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Living with Regrets
12 years ago
On the eve of 2013, it feels like I should be looking ahead to the future, but instead my mind has been mulling over the past.
I'm sure there are some folks who go through life without having any regrets, but that cannot be true for the vast majority of us. Sooner or later, we all make mistakes. And some of those mistakes are bound to be larger than others. It would take supreme self-confidence to believe that you could have done nothing better to avoid those mistakes -- confidence that would probably be crippling in other areas.
Anyways, let's assume that most everyone has regrets. That is, things in their past that they wish they could change.
My question, the question I have been thinking about, is this: If we are resigned to living with the reality of regrets, what purpose do they serve, if any? Are they the debris of our lives that we have to shake from our shoulders as we carry on? Or are they the landmarks and signposts that guide us on our way?
I suppose the obvious or conventional answer is that of course they are there to teach us, like all mistakes are. The biggest mistakes are the ones that we remember, that have the most reverberating consequences, and are the most likely to shape us into the future. Still, I'm not sure if the enduring pain that makes regret what it is is entirely a learning mechanism. You might expect that once you recognize your error or wrongdoing, you might have some satisfaction in what you have gained. And yet, regret can linger long after the fact, like an open wound.
I will offer one example that is fairly mild:
When I was in college, in order to fulfill a science requirement for my major, I took a class in the physics of music. It was not an entirely frivolous choice, since I did want to have more exposure to physics to satisfy my curiosity, despite my repeated shortcomings in math. Nonetheless, I think it's fair to say that I approached the class rather casually as an elective course. As part of the final grade, our assignment was to construct a musical instrument of our own, and present it to the class with an explanation and demonstration.
Perhaps it was my lack of imagination, or perhaps I just didn't grasp the material deeply enough to make the proper connections, but I struggled to come up with any suitable ideas. Eventually, I settled on what I considered to be my last resort: a rubber band 'guitar' made out of a shoebox. It's still humiliating to admit -- a 20-something student at a top university and I'm building something that a first-grader could make in two minutes as a final exam.
I don't actually remember what I said when I brought it to class. All I remember is furtively looking at the other students to see if they did the same thing. I couldn't decide what was worse: being one of ten students all with the same bad idea... or being the only one. As it happens, it was the latter. I got up, awkwardly presented my shame, and sat down miserably.
In the end, from what I recall, I passed the class. I got my degree and my life has moved on. As far as I can tell, this episode hasn't altered the course of my life meaningfully one way or another. And yet, when a news story on the radio comes on talking about local artisans building experimental instruments, I can barely listen to it, since it reminds me of that episode, where the quality of my work fell so far below my own standards.
Did I learn anything from this that was worth this lingering shame? Frankly, I've either blocked most of it from my conscious memory, or simply forgotten it over the course of years. Did it make me a better student? Maybe, but looking back on my history, I've always been quite scrupulous in attending classes and completing my exams, both before and after. By no means was this a sort of 'wake-up call' that shook me out of an academic slide. As a matter of fact, in my freshman year of college, I took another elective class where I simply did not DO the final term paper and failed the class, and while I am not proud of that, it scarcely shames me like this instrument project did. And aside from those two episodes, I'm happy to stand by my academic record, even if my grades were hardly perfect.
So, if I don't feel like I'm learning much from these these regrets, would it be better to simply forget about them, and leave them behind? Are they utterly worthless? After all, as embarrassing as it was for me in class that day, nobody today would know anything about it or think anything less of me because of it, unless I told them about it like I am doing now.
As unsatisfying as it is, I suspect that the truth lies somewhere between. Regrets are probably only worth holding on long enough to determine if there IS anything worth learning, and then setting them aside. Somehow. I guess in this case, simply talking about it is my attempt to cope with this particular memory. Of course, it's the pain that makes them hard to face in the first place.
What about you? Do you live a life free of regrets? Or do they have a force on your life? You obviously don't have to share the details... I'm more curious about how you deal with them.
I'm sure there are some folks who go through life without having any regrets, but that cannot be true for the vast majority of us. Sooner or later, we all make mistakes. And some of those mistakes are bound to be larger than others. It would take supreme self-confidence to believe that you could have done nothing better to avoid those mistakes -- confidence that would probably be crippling in other areas.
Anyways, let's assume that most everyone has regrets. That is, things in their past that they wish they could change.
My question, the question I have been thinking about, is this: If we are resigned to living with the reality of regrets, what purpose do they serve, if any? Are they the debris of our lives that we have to shake from our shoulders as we carry on? Or are they the landmarks and signposts that guide us on our way?
I suppose the obvious or conventional answer is that of course they are there to teach us, like all mistakes are. The biggest mistakes are the ones that we remember, that have the most reverberating consequences, and are the most likely to shape us into the future. Still, I'm not sure if the enduring pain that makes regret what it is is entirely a learning mechanism. You might expect that once you recognize your error or wrongdoing, you might have some satisfaction in what you have gained. And yet, regret can linger long after the fact, like an open wound.
I will offer one example that is fairly mild:
When I was in college, in order to fulfill a science requirement for my major, I took a class in the physics of music. It was not an entirely frivolous choice, since I did want to have more exposure to physics to satisfy my curiosity, despite my repeated shortcomings in math. Nonetheless, I think it's fair to say that I approached the class rather casually as an elective course. As part of the final grade, our assignment was to construct a musical instrument of our own, and present it to the class with an explanation and demonstration.
Perhaps it was my lack of imagination, or perhaps I just didn't grasp the material deeply enough to make the proper connections, but I struggled to come up with any suitable ideas. Eventually, I settled on what I considered to be my last resort: a rubber band 'guitar' made out of a shoebox. It's still humiliating to admit -- a 20-something student at a top university and I'm building something that a first-grader could make in two minutes as a final exam.
I don't actually remember what I said when I brought it to class. All I remember is furtively looking at the other students to see if they did the same thing. I couldn't decide what was worse: being one of ten students all with the same bad idea... or being the only one. As it happens, it was the latter. I got up, awkwardly presented my shame, and sat down miserably.
In the end, from what I recall, I passed the class. I got my degree and my life has moved on. As far as I can tell, this episode hasn't altered the course of my life meaningfully one way or another. And yet, when a news story on the radio comes on talking about local artisans building experimental instruments, I can barely listen to it, since it reminds me of that episode, where the quality of my work fell so far below my own standards.
Did I learn anything from this that was worth this lingering shame? Frankly, I've either blocked most of it from my conscious memory, or simply forgotten it over the course of years. Did it make me a better student? Maybe, but looking back on my history, I've always been quite scrupulous in attending classes and completing my exams, both before and after. By no means was this a sort of 'wake-up call' that shook me out of an academic slide. As a matter of fact, in my freshman year of college, I took another elective class where I simply did not DO the final term paper and failed the class, and while I am not proud of that, it scarcely shames me like this instrument project did. And aside from those two episodes, I'm happy to stand by my academic record, even if my grades were hardly perfect.
So, if I don't feel like I'm learning much from these these regrets, would it be better to simply forget about them, and leave them behind? Are they utterly worthless? After all, as embarrassing as it was for me in class that day, nobody today would know anything about it or think anything less of me because of it, unless I told them about it like I am doing now.
As unsatisfying as it is, I suspect that the truth lies somewhere between. Regrets are probably only worth holding on long enough to determine if there IS anything worth learning, and then setting them aside. Somehow. I guess in this case, simply talking about it is my attempt to cope with this particular memory. Of course, it's the pain that makes them hard to face in the first place.
What about you? Do you live a life free of regrets? Or do they have a force on your life? You obviously don't have to share the details... I'm more curious about how you deal with them.
Regret is a tool really, used right it can move us and others away from poor choices, used wrong, it can absorb us.
I live with my regrets every day. Actions I should of taken, things I should have said. Actions I should not have taken, things I should have held my tongue on. Do they weigh me down? Sometimes. But I hardly say they're useless.
When I dwell on them, I'm usually reminding myself of what I was, vs what I am. When you built a very out of place and, in your mind, sub par project, You were in a situation for which you were not overly prepared, for which you were not suited. Since that time, have you gone into situations without that lingering feeling of "I should be ready for this" being much more acute?
Same with my regrets. THey are not so much lessons on what not to do, as much as reminders of where we've been. Things we could have done better. Those points of sickening disjointedness that leave us reeling when they bubble back to the surface. Yet they are the same as any memory. There might not be a direct 'lesson' to be learned, but the ability to regret poor actions allows us to also embrace the good ones. You cannot know good without evil. You cannot have light without shadows. The contrast is the lesson, it is the point.
If you don't appreciate where you've failed, you can never appreciate where you succeeded.
Or perhaps I'm just tired and rambling. I hope it makes sense.
Not sure I really tackle my regrets head on as I don't feel they necessitate such correction (or, seeing as I lack a time machine, cannot go back for a mulligan). Maybe I just haven't stretched my neck out enough as an older-dino to truly get burned and feel regret that truly stings? Perhaps I'm very lucky there!
The only exception would be not truly appreciating all my parents did for me while growing up during my youth, only in retrospect did I understand. I've tried to let my parents know I've learned how shortsighted I was as a wee-raptor (well, maybe not those exact-words~) and that I am ever-grateful for them. Maybe it's a drop in the bucket, or perhaps it's all they'd really wanted to hear all along.