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Regret is not dangerous or abnormal, a deviation from the steady path to happiness. It is healthy and universal, an integral part of being human. Regret is also valuable. It clarifies. It instructs. Done right, it needn’t drag us down; it can lift us up.
human beings also hold what amounts to a portfolio of emotions. Some of these emotions are positive—for example, love, pride, and awe. Others are negative—sadness, frustration, or shame. In general, we tend to overvalue one category and undervalue the other.
Nearly all regrets fall into four core categories—foundation regrets, boldness regrets, moral regrets, and connection regrets.
We can visit the past and the future in our heads. And we can tell the story of something that never actually happened. Human beings are both seasoned time travelers and skilled fabulists. These two capabilities twine together to form the cognitive double helix that gives life to regret.
“To live, it seems, is to accumulate at least some regrets.”
Counterfactuals can point in either of two directions—down or up. With “downward counterfactuals,” we contemplate how an alternative could have been worse. They prompt us to say “At least . . .”—as in, “Sure, I got a C+ on that exam, but at least I passed the course and don’t have to take it again.” Let’s call these types of counterfactuals At Leasts
The other variety are known as “upward counterfactuals.” With upward counterfactuals, we imagine how things could have gone better. They make us say “If only . . .”—as in, “If only I’d attended class more often and done all the reading, I’d have gotten a much better grade.” Let’s call these counterfactuals If Onlys
whatever joy the silver medalist may feel is often tempered by tortuous thoughts of what might have been had she only lengthened her stride, adjusted her breathing, pointed her toes, and so on.
Two decades of research on counterfactual thinking exposes an oddity: thoughts about the past that make us feel better are relatively rare, while thoughts that make us feel worse are exceedingly common.
by making us feel worse today, regret helps us do better tomorrow.
1. Regret can improve decisions.
2. Regret can boost performance.
Even thinking about other people’s regrets may confer a performance boost.
3. Regret can deepen meaning.
For instance, conducting a “midlife review” focused on regrets can prompt us to revise our life goals and aim to live afresh.
framing regret as a judgment of our underlying character—who we are—can be destructive. Framing it as an evaluation of a particular behavior in a particular situation—what we did—can be instructive.
“If you have a broken heart, it means you have done something big enough and important enough and valuable enough to have broken your heart.”
“my body is NOT a temple it’s a STORAGE UNIT for my REGRETS.” @ElyKreimendahl, Twitter, 2020
Foundation regrets. The first deep structure category cuts across nearly all the surface categories. Many of our education, finance, and health regrets are actually different outward expressions of the same core regret: our failure to be responsible, conscientious, or prudent.
Boldness regrets.
we are much more likely to regret the chances we didn’t take than the chances we did.
Moral regrets.
Connection regrets.
Connection regrets arise any time we neglect the people who help establish our own sense of wholeness. When those relationships fray or disappear or never develop, we feel an abiding loss.
Foundation regrets sound like this: If only I’d done the work.
To identify a foundation regret in yourself or in others, listen for the words “too much”—whether they attach to consuming alcohol, playing video games, watching television, spending money, or any other activity whose immediate lure exceeds its lasting value. Then listen for the words “too little”—whether they describe studying in school, setting aside cash, practicing a sport
Boldness regrets sound like this: If only I’d taken that risk.
The pain of boldness regrets is the pain of “What if?” Thomas Gilovich, Victoria Medvec, and other researchers have repeatedly found that people regret inactions more than actions—especially in the long term.
when we act, we know what happened next. We see the outcome and that can shrink regret’s half-life. But when we don’t act—when we don’t step off that metaphorical train—we can only speculate how events would have unfolded.
At the heart of all boldness regrets is the thwarted possibility of growth. The failure to become the person—happier, braver, more evolved—one could have been. The failure to accomplish a few important goals within the limited span of a single life.
Moral regrets sound like this: If only I’d done the right thing.
Connection regrets sound like this: If only I’d reached out.
The prospect of giving compliments, Boothby and Bohns found, can make people skittish. They worry “their awkwardness is on display and that people are noticing—and judging—them for their many flaws and faux pas.” But in the experiments, people’s predictions—about themselves and others—proved way off. They drastically overestimated how “bothered, uncomfortable, and annoyed” the person receiving their compliment would feel—and underestimated how positively that person would react.5 It wasn’t awkward at all.
“pluralistic ignorance.” We mistakenly assume that our beliefs differ vastly from everyone else’s—especially when those private thoughts seem at odds with broader public behavior.
The lesson of closed doors is to do better next time. The lesson of open doors is to do something now. If a relationship you care about has come undone, place the call. Make that visit. Say what you feel. Push past the awkwardness and reach out.
Failures to become our ideal selves are failures to pursue opportunities. Failures to become our ought selves are failures to fulfill obligations
“Regrets of inaction last longer than regrets of action in part because they reflect greater perceived opportunity.
For action regrets, your initial goal should be to change the immediate situation for the better. That’s not always possible, but we have two ways to advance toward that goal. We can undo many such regrets: we can make amends, reverse our choices, or erase the consequences. Think of Jeff and his now fading tattoo. We can also respond to action regrets by using At Leasts to help us feel better about our circumstances.
How could the decision I now regret have turned out worse? What is one silver lining in this regret? How would I complete the following sentence? “At least . . .”
regret can make us better when we use emotions as a signal for our thoughts. When feeling is for thinking, and thinking is for doing, regret can perform its decision-enhancing, performance-boosting, meaning-deepening magic. Writing about regret or revealing a regret to another person moves the experience from the realm of emotion into the realm of cognition.
By normalizing negative experiences, we neutralize them.
So, drawing on the science of self-compassion, the second step in transforming our regrets is to ask ourselves three questions: If a friend or relative came to you with the same regret as yours, would you treat that person with kindness or contempt? If your answer is kindness, use that approach on yourself. If your answer is contempt, try a different answer.
Is this type of regret something that other people might have endured, or are you the only person ever to have experienced it?
Does this regret represent an unpleasant moment in your life, or does it define your life? Again, if you believe it’s worth being aware of the regret but not overidentifying with it, you’re on your way. If you believe this regret fully constitutes who you are, ask someone else what they think.
Our goal should not be to always minimize regret. Our goal should be to optimize it.
So, under the Regret Optimization Framework, when deciding a course of action, begin by asking whether you are dealing with one of the four core regrets. If not, satisfice. For example, if you’re buying lawn furniture or a(nother) microwave oven, that decision is unlikely to involve any fundamental, enduring human need. Make a choice and move on. You’ll be fine. If the decision does involve one of the big four, spend more time deliberating. Project yourself into the future—five years, ten years, at age eighty, whatever makes sense. From that future vantage point, ask yourself which choice will
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