In this months blog I have been reflecting on ‘regret’. Regret is an emotion that, unlike its more fleeting extended family members, can stay with us for the entirety of our lives. It comes to us at the lowest point and whilst its attachment to our souls can be light enough to bear; it can often be so burdensome that learning to live with it can take a lifetime. However, when we accept its encumbrance, it can facilitate healing and, in some ways, let us experience what it means to be a truly vulnerable, imperfect, humble and hopeful human. There are times though when we would do anything but confront regret, but we can’t change the past – so why does wrestling with regret often mean trying to unpin ourselves from that we have no earthly power to manage?
We can regret our own past actions, past actions of others, future actions and acts not even committed. I remember many years ago, fresh out of theatre school, I was asked by my former drama teacher if I would like to pop back to my old secondary school and lead a GCSE drama class. As the topic was ‘movement’ one such exercise involved watching each other walk around the room to try and determine a character trait. One girl walked a couple of circles and as we watched I made a mental note to ask her why she had her arm tucked into her jumper during the whole exercise. When she stopped (to a trickle of applause) I fully realised, she only had one arm. The words ‘why was your arm tucked into your jumper’ were literally forming in my mouth, awaiting a single draw of air to make them real. I gobbled them up. But here I am, some 30 years later, regretting the thought and, even more bizarrely, regretting ‘what might have happened?’
And it is this facet of ‘regret’ which I find the most puzzling. What might be the possible ‘good’ in mentally revisiting something we regret? What might be the reasons we ponder so on how things ‘should’ve been’ if only we had the chance to do it again?
Why do we regret that which we cannot change?
At its best – regret is a teacher. A harsh teacher, but an honest one – and one who knows that the lessons learnt will last a lifetime. Regret can inform us on how to do better or act better should a similar situation arise. Regret teaches us to be humble and to seek forgiveness of others when those sorrowful feelings are authentic and deeply felt. At its best – regret makes us better people. In some ways, it hoists us to the highest part of our humanity: selflessness.
But that’s some monolith of an ideal to scale. When you reflect on the periods or episodes in your life when your actions have had negative consequences for yourself or for others – have you always managed the high level of reflection and communication needed to obtain the sagacity of regret along with the vulnerably to accept its enlightening potential – or do you just wish you could’ve rappelled back down, gone back and done it differently?
There could possibly be some good in revisiting a regretful episode to glean some learning from it. Maybe there’s a puzzle element in this recounting and revisiting that could have some value. Maybe if I had said x instead y then z would not have happened which ended up being a negative and uncomfortable experience. Maybe, if having said y instead of x your pet cat ‘Tiddles’ may have found the power of speech and finally had the chance to tell you that they’ve had ‘proper’ tuna and that ‘Whiskas Tuna’ tastes nothing like the real thing. You see what else we can do when we permit ourselves an unobtainable fantasy? There is a difference between learning about ourselves and connecting with a wrong-doing and reimagining a fantasy world where everything turned out right in the end.
It is our nature to wish things could have gone better. I cannot begin to tell you how many arguments I win in my head whilst showering in the morning. I mean I am slaying my interlocuters. It’s embarrassing really. But when the shower is turned off and I realise that that the sound of blood rushing to my head was drowning the sound water beating against it – I am no better off, I am no wiser for the exercise.
And yet, it is still done. We still revisit, recount and replay knowing full well that the scenario in our heads my change, but the reality stays the same and there is no replay only repair; there is no redo…only regret.
So, what exactly are we ‘regretting’ when we refuse to accept that which has already happened? Clearly, there is the regret of the negative outcome and to whomever that had afflicted. There is also the regret that our character has been stained by the event – maybe to such a degree that no ‘walk-back, double down, 90-degree cotton spin cycle’ could ever shift it. So, to some end, ‘regret’ here could be that we hadn’t spotted a way out. If we are replaying the incident in our heads, we are not searching for a solution (for that is impossible to attain) we are searching for an excuse – a way of viewing it differently. To this end, when we replay and revisit – we are not wishing for a better outcome or seeking the learning moment, but instead – like a pit-bull defence attorney, stalking a witness and eyeing a changeable jury – we are searching for the evidence to prove we were not in the wrong. Ultimately, we are seeking an acquittal from regret and move to the less serious crime of ‘well, I’m sorry I made you feel that way’. If we can sidestep the impending ‘regret verdict’ – that could seem like a win.
Because that’s the problem with regret – its finality. Once we are tried, we are sentenced. Maybe the desperate actions of replaying and recounting could be the first steps in a grieving process – denial – for if we’ve wronged, we know what comes next – and it ain’t always nice. It’s like a sprawling dark theme park, mournful and sullen with rides upon rides, each one requiring you to experience an emotion that’s unwelcome, uncomfortable and may possibly require another turn. But ride them we must for if we fully accept our culpability and enter our guilty plea- there’s no turning back. You gotta buckle up and settle in. The journey through regret is ours to take, but not always ours alone.
It’s irrational to relive the past and believe that in doing so it will change. It’s disingenuous to relive and replay an event, if we were totally culpable, in order to win out on a technicality so as to avoid the longevity of discomfort regret can bring. If we choose to regret that which we cannot change, it is most likely to no positive end. What is done, is done.
Regret, instead, is the beginning and not the mournful end.
Conclusion
I would bet that accepting blame, pushing through its challenges and actively seeking to repair has actually levelled you up. There’s something about the truthfulness and vulnerability of owning our constant imperfection that provides an opportunity for growth. To touch the face of perfection rather than don its mask. I would also bet that not every regretful episode has been profoundly despairing, with some finally yielded a positive nurturing mindset. The consequences of our negative and regretful action don’t end with everyone looking peeved and the rolling of credits to a melancholic piano. How regret informs an ‘ending’ is unknown. But a mindset that personal growth, nurtured through the repair to those harmed can be known and that such a mindset reminds us that our ‘ideal-self’ is not always an abstract fantasy.
StoatAubergine 
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