Living with the Gift of Regret

19 Oct Living with the Gift of Regret

Some years ago, I was asked to name my greatest fear.

I didn’t even have to give it a thought.

“Regret,” was my immediate response.

By this I meant, I did not want to live haunted with regret of things I shoulda, coulda, woulda done.

As I see it now, being in alignment with this guidepost is a vital ingredient to living an inspired life.

Getting burnt by regret came to me early, when I was in 8th grade.

As it happens, it was a result of an incident that might seem insignificant.

But, when I was 13 years old, small things could feel big and earth-shattering.

It all started with something good that happened.

Johnny-O asked me to the 8th grade Homecoming Dance.

To me, Johnny-O was the cutest boy in my class.

I was over the moon with delight.

My mother sewed me a corduroy vest and a floor-length polyester skirt to wear. My older sister ironed my long hair. Mother allowed me a speck of “rouge” on my cheeks, a little mascara, and some soft pink lipstick.

Then off I walked into the dream of my first big girl event.

For all the excitement preceding it, I have no memory of dancing with Johnny-O. No memory of drinking punch, or talking to him or our classmates at the school gymnasium the night of the dance.

My clearest memory is of feeling heartbreaking regret.

I have a memory of standing with Johnny-O and looking at the ream of butcher paper with tempera painted rainbow or castle or some such thing. Painted by classmates on the Homecoming Committee, it served as the photo-op backdrop for dance pictures.

Couples we knew stood waiting to have their pictures made in front of this backdrop.

Then, Johnny-O turned to me. “You wanna get a picture made?”

Dance pictures cost fifteen dollars. Money was a concern to everybody I knew then, in 1972. My practice at the time was to deny wanting something if it actually cost money. If a second offer was made after I’d refused it, then my rule was I was free to accept. Usually, this system worked to my advantage well enough.

So, after Johnny-O asked if I wanted to get a picture made, I said, “No, that’s okay.”

Then, I waited.

And waited some more.

Silence.

Johnny-O said nothing more.

My heart sunk like a stone in my stomach, where it stayed the rest of the night, poisoning the whole experience for me.

I had wanted a picture with him.

The morning after the dance, my mother asked, “So how was the dance?”

In retrospect, I can imagine that she was hoping to hear about the delights of the evening of her daughter’s first school dance.

Instead, I burst into tears.

Well, that makes it sound like I was a little teary, now doesn’t it?

Um, no. I was hysterical! Crying that ugly-face-can-barely-breathe kind of cry.

Almost unable to get words out between sobs, I somehow made my mother understand my heartache.

She tried to console me, telling me that it was okay. I would always have my memories, she said.

No luck; the crying intensified.

It seemed there was no end to my wailing.

This behavior was so out of character for me, it must have startled Mother.

She patted me, tried to distract me, and offered me food.

Nothing worked.

I was beside myself.

Here’s how desperate she must have felt: She came up with a scheme.

“Listen,” she said, “It’s only 10:00 in the morning. That backdrop will still be up. You know the Homecoming Committee hasn’t gotten over there yet to clean up.” At the time, we lived across the street from my school. Continuing, Mother said, “I’ll call the principal. He’ll let us into the school. C’mon. You get dressed in your clothes from last night. We can call Johnny-O. We’ll go over there together. And I’ll take a picture of y’all.”

Wow! What a plan.

It was such an out-of-the-box idea that the shock of it interrupted my sobs.

For a moment, I even considered doing it.

Then, I knew.

There were no do-overs.

Not only was the plan a no-go for me because I would have been mortified for Johnny-O to know how crushed I felt.

But, more importantly, it was a no-go because returning to the scene would never matter.

It could never be the same as the moment we had stood in together the night before.

I recall that my jagged breathing settled as I considered this.

My heart hurt for the loss of the moment, yes.

But I wouldn’t try to recreate it.

That one moment was gone. Forever.

The reality of the loss of a precious moment in time and the searing regret of not having said ‘yes’ to it has become a compelling force in my life.

The gift of suffering those emotions was that I knew I never wanted that experience again.

Its memory fueled the courage I needed to leave the practice of law, and to begin a different career, and has encouraged my resolve in many other life choices.

Still, the pace of life and distractions within life can pull me away from my intention to live in alignment with my own heart’s desires. And, the consequences of the regret that follows still stings.

So, we benefit from reminders that prompt us to return to those intentions.

One such reminder was finding the work of Bronnie Ware in her 2012 book, The Top Five Regrets of the Dying.

Ware was an Australian nurse who worked in palliative care. In her book, she documents conversations about life and death that she had with her dying patients. Through those conversations, Ware witnessed recurring themes of regret at the end of life, which she culled into a list of five most common reasons for regret of life as lived. (Read more about this in her blog.)

As I read it, the list of regrets can be boiled down to two ways of living that tend to leave one regretful at the end of life:

One: living life guided by ‘shoulds;’ living life constrained by rules of obligations or to please others.

Two: living life without having said ‘yes’ to what truly matters, to the one living that life.

The blessing of Ware’s work is that it gives full permission and loud encouragement for us to

1) Pay attention to our hearts’ deep wishes; and

2) Become solid in our intentions for living in alignment with those wishes.

Stay tuned for Part Two of this topic. Next time, we will discuss ways to become intentional in living without regret.