The Regrets We Carry

Part Two of my three-part series: Lean Toward Yes

On Monday, I asked you to notice something.

When an opportunity appears, what’s your first instinct?

Yes?

Or:

No?

Today I want to tell you why I’ve been thinking about this so much.

It has to do with something every one of us accumulates if we live long enough.

Regret.

I have regrets.

You have regrets.

Anyone claiming to have lived an entire life without regrets is either extraordinarily enlightened or should perhaps be questioned under oath.

Some regrets are about things we did.

Things we said.

People we trusted.

Decisions we made.

Maybe a haircut from 1987.

Some things simply cannot be explained.

But there’s another category of regret.

The things we didn’t do.

And psychologists have discovered something fascinating about the difference.

What We Regret Changes With Time

Psychologists Thomas Gilovich and Victoria Medvec studied how regret behaves over time.

Their research found that in the short term, people often regret their actions.

We remember the mistake.

The embarrassing moment.

The decision that blew up spectacularly.

But over longer periods, something changes.

Our regrets increasingly center around inaction.

The opportunities we didn’t take.

The relationships we didn’t pursue.

The things we didn’t say.

The dreams we kept postponing.

That makes enormous sense to me.

Because when you try something and it goes badly, at least you get an ending.

You learn.

You adjust.

You recover.

Sometimes you eventually laugh about it.

But something you never tried doesn’t have an ending.

It has a question mark.

What if?

And what if can follow us around for a very long time.

Aging Changes the Equation

When we’re young, time feels almost unlimited.

I’ll travel someday.

I’ll write someday.

I’ll take that class someday.

I’ll start the business someday.

I’ll learn to paint someday.

I’ll reconnect with that friend someday.

I’ll go see that place someday.

Then life happens.

Careers.

Children.

Mortgages.

Parents.

Illness.

Responsibilities.

Tuesday.

And suddenly we’re looking at life from a different vantage point.

The future still exists.

But it doesn’t feel infinite anymore.

That’s not morbid.

It’s reality.

And I actually think acknowledging it can be incredibly freeing.

Because when we finally understand that time has value, we become much more careful about allowing fear to spend it for us.

There Are Some Things We Cannot Go Back For

This is perhaps the hardest part.

We like to believe opportunities remain available.

Maybe next year.

Maybe when things settle down.

Maybe when I feel better.

Maybe when I have more money.

Maybe when I’m less afraid.

Sometimes that’s true.

Sometimes it isn’t.

Our circumstances change.

Our bodies change.

The people around us change.

Someone moves.

Someone becomes ill.

Someone dies.

The invitation doesn’t come again.

The door closes.

And sometimes someday quietly becomes never.

I don’t say that to make anyone sad.

Quite the opposite.

I say it because you’re here.

I’m here.

Today is still available.

There Is Still Something Ahead

One of the things I find especially interesting in research on aging is the importance of continuing to have meaningful future goals.

Not merely memories.

Anticipation.

Something we’re learning.

Something we’re planning.

Something we’re creating.

Somewhere we’re going.

Someone we’re becoming.

I think that’s incredibly important.

Because one of the dangers of aging is allowing our lives to become entirely retrospective.

Remember when?

Remember that trip?

Remember when the kids were little?

Remember when we used to?

Those memories are precious.

But I don’t want all my best stories behind me.

I want to be able to say:

Guess what I’m doing next?

The Road You Actually Traveled

Here’s something else I’ve learned.

Some of the decisions I made weren’t perfect.

Some things didn’t work.

Some things ended.

Some things hurt.

Some things certainly didn’t unfold the way I’d imagined.

But I can look at those experiences and understand how they changed me.

There’s a story there.

A beginning.

A middle.

An ending.

Maybe even a lesson.

But the road we never traveled?

We don’t know.

And our imagination can make that road increasingly beautiful as the years pass.

Maybe that’s why missed opportunities have such staying power.

We never get to find out.

Ask Yourself This

So today I want to give you a different question to carry around.

When you’re considering something and your instinct says no, ask:

If I say no to this today, might I someday wish I had said yes?

Not every time.

Not every opportunity.

Not every person.

Wisdom still gets a vote.

But so should possibility.

And Friday, I’m going to tell you what I’ve decided to do about all of this.

It’s very simple.

I’m going to lean toward yes.

Not recklessly.

Not foolishly.

But deliberately.

And I think maybe we should all start making a different kind of bucket list.

I’m calling it a Yes List.

We’ll make one Friday.

— Julie Bolejack, MBA |Author | The Bloom Again Collection

If you’re enjoying this series, share it with someone who might be carrying a what if of their own.

You’ll find my books, podcast, writing and more at JulieBolejack.com, where you can also subscribe to this newsletter.

And I’ll leave you with this:

Don’t give fear the authority to spend your remaining time.