By Peh Zhi Ning (25A01B)

Last Friday, I was in a Shi Li Fang with a good friend, chatting with each other amidst mala-spiced steam and distant music, when she asked me, “If you could redo your life, what would you change?” 

What sprouted from this relatively random question was an hour-long conversation – we dug up all sorts of memories. Familial arguments, subject combinations, broken-off friendships, failed confessions, wasted time… I remember my friend laughing, a sad and nostalgic peal, as she said, “I could have been an astrophysicist.” 

I had matched her declaration with my own could-have-beens – trials I hadn’t gone for, experiences I didn’t try, risks I feared taking. Despite how little we’ve lived, our laundry list of regrets was surprisingly long and detailed, with innumerable plans of redemption already in our minds. By the time the soup in our pot simmered down to dregs, we had woven together perfect lives, without misstep or mistake – without regret. 

For every crossroad we had passed, we toyed with the alternate choice, as though we could piece back together the already-broken wishbones. It was therapeutic, in a way, to air out every poor choice I’ve made in the past eighteen years of my life and to imagine a life entirely without regret, where every could-have-been was fulfilled. 

Could-Have-Beens 

Could have been. Could-have-been. Made up of “Could”, the past tense of the conditional ‘can’, “Have”, the present-perfect auxiliary verb, and “Been”, the past participle of ‘be’, it speaks of a past situation that was possible, but did not come to be.

I’m certain that just by reading the phrase, without even trying, memories, events and choices you’ve made would have appeared in your mind – the conditions you hadn’t met, and the resultant paths you didn’t take. The phrase itself, although innocuous, often carries a weight of contemplation, of missed opportunities and failed potential. 

The Psychology of Regret

Regret is, ultimately, a human tendency. Counterfactual in nature, regret blossoms from the imagined or idealised outcome that did not manifest in reality. Thus, regret is the realisation and recognition that something ideal did not occur, with the reason behind this deemed to be due to one’s actions (or inaction).

According to journalist Kathyrn Schulz, regret requires two things – agency, and imagination. Agency, in making the decision that led to this undesirable outcome, and imagination, in picturing an alternate (better) reality. 

The imagination and the thought processes required to feel regret makes regret inherently human, where every night spent awake regretting is a reflection of our ability to hope and desire a different outcome. 

Psychologists theorise that there are two types of regret: 

1. Action-based regret, from bad actions taken, and
2. Inaction-based regret, from lack of action taken.

Often, the type of regret one feels more strongly depends also on the time lapsed after the decision. In the short run, people tend to regret their actions taken, and in the long run, the actions not taken. Regret stands out in emotions and memories, as it is persistent, far more than other emotions. Where other memories exhibit faded emotional responses after time, regret tends to latch on to one’s shoes like congealed mud. 

While action-based regret is more intense in the short run, it triggers improved behaviour, and acts as a reminder not to commit the same mistake again. For example, getting a bad tattoo or buying a bad waffle flavour combination. 

In contrast, however, inaction-based regret is most often the type that haunts people for years after the event has passed, with studies showing that inaction regret tends to elicit feelings of wistfulness, longing and despair, unlike action regret, which tends to evoke intense feelings of anger, shame and fear. When asked to reflect upon their life, participants in a study reported feeling greater regret towards inaction, rather than actions taken. 

Especially in cases where people were given great opportunities, the lack of action in taking these opportunities continued to sting them for years after, where the potential happiness and ideal outcome continued to rub them wrongly – like an uncut size tag. 

As we grow up, of course, what we regret changes as well. Youthful regrets of classroom politics and broken friendships give way to missed job opportunities, spurned romances, and then to neglected health, forgotten family, etcetera, etcetera. Work, romance, health, family, friends, money…the list never ends. How regretful. And yet this design is still very human. 

Don’t Regret Regretting

To live is to regret. It is as inevitable as breathing. Every day, we make countless decisions. To wake up when your alarm rings, or to bury your head in your pillow again. To wave to that person you aren’t sure you’re friends with, or to walk quickly by. To watch your Economics lecture, or to go to sleep. 

Every choice comes with opportunity costs, every path a forked tongue with endless other possibilities. Maybe you’re late for school. Maybe that person didn’t wave back. Maybe you fell asleep in your Economics tutorial the next day. Every choice comes with potential regret. 

However, regret is, in fact, a good thing. It has been theorised that humans evolved to feel regret in order to learn from their mistakes, as an emotional feedback mechanism. (E.g.: Caveman eats bad mushroom. Caveman regrets. Caveman does not eat bad mushroom the next day.) 

While we are (probably) not using regret as a survival mechanism anymore, regret still plays a huge role in guiding our decisions and ensuring optimal outcomes. Living with regret means acknowledging one’s mistakes, and hopefully growing from said mistakes. I know this sounds awfully ‘Growth Mindset Wall Poster’, but it is as much a reminder to you, as to myself. 

Face Forward

Every ‘Could-Have-Been’ is also a ‘Have-Been’, and a ‘Will-Be”. The grass is always greener on the other side. Sure, in our mala-addled frenzy, our clever, big-brain solutions to these regrets would have solved all of our problems, leaving us at our A-game, ideal life. 

However, every choice we have made, good and bad, has led us to where we stand today. If my friend had, indeed, taken Physics over Biology four years ago, we would never have met, and we would never have had this exact conversation that led to this article. 

I, admittedly, spend quite a lot of my time ruminating in regret. What if I hadn’t gone to RI? What if I hadn’t taken Arts? What if I hadn’t said anything then? What if I had tried harder all those years ago? What if I could do everything over again, but just better? Who could I have been? 

However, just like how rhetorical questions aren’t of any use in Literature essays, these questions aren’t of much use in my life. It is ridiculously easy to drown in regret, to spill words and tears into Google Docs and tissue paper, and to wish for physically impossible miracles or time machines. But this isn’t possible or sustainable. 

So, go for that experience. Try for that CCA. Speak to that person. If it doesn’t go well, swallow that regret and metabolise it into new action. We are sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, with our whole lives awaiting us, and it isn’t any fun living if you’re busy regretting.