Youth tend to act first and reflect later. This may explain why many young people spend a fair bit of time regretting ‘sins of commission’, or things they’ve said or done. These ‘sins’ are usually the result of impulsive actions, poor decisions or simple social missteps. Feelings of regret may arise from cruel words hurled at parents, a fight with a sibling, a reckless purchase, a cringe-worthy message sent to an ex at 2 am, or a job impulsively quit.
The sting of these regrets is sharp because the actions are still fresh, and their consequences are still unfolding. But that very newness can be a blessing too as it gives the youngsters a chance to view their regret as a painful but much-needed nudge to change course and make better choices moving forward.
Regret doesn’t abandon people as they age; it simply changes form.
Older folks wrestle with remorse too, but it’s inevitably tied to ‘sins of omission’ rather than commission. Their regrets revolve around inaction, not action, and linger like a gentle, persistent ache triggered by missed opportunities and unfulfilled dreams.
Older adults rue the journeys they didn’t take, the businesses they didn’t start, the money they didn’t save, the books they didn’t write, the emotions they didn’t express…
Sadly, there is no possibility of corrective action here. These regrets are not a motivator for future change but a source of sorrow for a life that could have been.
Are all the regrets justified? Probably not. People have a tendency to romanticise the path not taken. But no one knows for sure that life would have been rosier on the untrodden trail, do they?
Psychologists say all actions occur in context. Individuals make decisions based on the values and information available to them at that time. Sure, it would have been nice to make brilliant life choices at 30 and end up super successful and deliriously happy at 50. But you didn’t know then what you know now. Forgive yourself. It’s only hindsight that’s always 20-20.
For me, the biggest regrets are not linked to my career or money or any material goods. They’re linked to the people I’ve lost to death. I regret the time I didn’t spend with them, the phone calls I didn’t make often enough, the occasions I wasn’t more patient. But most of all, I regret the questions I didn’t ask them, and my heart aches for all that I’ll never know.
So, if there’s one piece of advice I could give people younger than me, it’s this: ask your parents, relatives and older friends about all that’s precious to them. Seek out their singular memories, let them tell you how they would like their life to be celebrated. Enquire about their career choices. Understand what makes them tick. Tell them what they mean to you and ask them what you mean to them. Build yourself a hedge against a future of unanswered questions.
As for your feelings about the people who are already gone, remember it’s normal to feel guilt and sorrow for things left unsaid or undone. Acknowledging this pain is the first step in processing it.
You can also re-frame the narrative. Instead of dwelling on the things that didn’t happen, focus on the moments that did. Get together with their friends and family and swap anecdotes and remembrances. Your memory bank will be richer for it.
Finally, honour the dead with your actions. Volunteer for a cause they cared about, learn a skill they valued or simply live a more meaningful life in their memory. You may not shrug off all your regrets but, with time, they may morph into a quiet companion that reminds you gently of what’s really important in life.