Why Regrets Are Good (And People Who Say Otherwise Are Wrong)
There’s a vapid sentence people like to say in interviews and late-night conversations.
“I have no regrets.”
It’s supposed to signal courage. Backbone. Fearlessness. A life lived without hesitation.
We often admire that person. That’s because we’re also suckers for a polished lie.
Because unless you’re emotionally anesthetized or profoundly unreflective, you have regrets. If you’ve loved people. If you’ve raised children. If you’ve built anything that matters. You have regrets.
There was a time when I claimed I had none.
In my earlier, pre-reflective era, I wore that sentence like armor. I said it to sound strong. I said it to sound finished.
I was lying.
When my kids hit puberty, I once announced that I had only one regret as a parent: asking them to smile in pictures. Looking back at childhood photos, I noticed how many of their smiles were fixed. Polite. Performative. It made me wish I had captured their real moods instead.
So I framed that as my only regret.
It was a lie dressed up as insight.
Of course I had others. Hundreds of them. But admitting that felt dangerous. It meant admitting I had failed in ways that mattered.
At the time, “no regrets” meant: I’m fine. I’m strong. Don’t look too closely.
The truth is, I have many regrets.
Regrets are good teachers
I regret things I said when I was tired and sharp-tongued and too sure of myself. I regret pretending I didn’t have regrets. I regret moments when I chose work over tenderness.
For years, I regularly chose productivity over presence.
Once, my son came to me while I was working at the dining table. He wanted me to watch him jump and mark how high he could go with a pencil. This would mean tracking his progress. It would have taken minutes and led to years of connection between us as he developed the skill. I said not now and didn’t engage – not even much eye contact. Now, I don’t even remember what I was working on. But I remember his face when I turned away.
That’s a real regret.
And it’s one of the reasons I know for sure that having regrets isn’t a failure. Regrets are good when you let them teach you.
I regret not listening sooner.
My daughter told me more than once that she was being bullied on the school bus. She asked if she could take the subway instead. I brushed it off. It took the third request and the crack in her voice for me to understand how much she was hurting. Any amount of time spent dismissing your child’s pain is too long.
That’s another real regret.
Sometimes I still see its impact on her. Or maybe I’m projecting. But when I mess up with my kids, they remember it. And more importantly, I remember it.
Regrets are good for self relfection
Some regrets live in my parenting. Others live in friendships I didn’t protect well enough. Some live in versions of myself that confused confidence with wisdom.
What did I do with them?
I apologized.
I tell my children when I get it wrong. When I raise my voice. When I use a sharp tone. When I overreact. I name it. I own it. I say I’m sorry.
At first, this took effort. Now it’s automatic. The benefit isn’t just faster repair. It’s fewer mistakes. Not zero mistakes. I’m human. But fewer.
These conversations aren’t empowering. They don’t make me look impressive. They make me honest. And honesty is more powerful than bravado.
Regrets are good markers for change
Here’s what “no regrets” culture gets wrong. It confuses certainty with maturity.
Regret isn’t weakness.
Regret is data.
It’s the record of having paid attention after the fact.
For years, one of my biggest patterns was not asking for clarification when something set me off. Someone would say something. My nervous system would spike. I’d feel a pang. Then I’d shut down. I told myself I was being “low drama.” I was actually avoiding vulnerability.
Now, when I feel that pang, I ask, “What do you mean by that?”
Most of the time, I learn that my interpretation was wrong. Instead of withdrawing and building resentment, I stay present.
That change came from regret. From seeing the cost of my old pattern.
This is another reason regrets are good. They show you where your patterns are failing you.
Changing you for the better = why regrets are good
When I sit with my regrets now, they don’t feel like accusations. They feel like teachers.
They taught me how fragile trust is. They taught me how easily power slips into carelessness. They taught me that love requires maintenance.
Most importantly, they taught me how to apologize without bargaining.
Not: I’m sorry, but…
Not: I’m sorry if you felt…
Just: I’m sorry. I see it. I own it. I’ll do better.
Living well isn’t about being flawless. It’s about being conscious.
Conscious of your patterns. Conscious of your impact.
Now, when I realize I’m affecting someone, I turn toward them. Sometimes I say, “What does support look like to you right now?”
I learned to ask that because I faced my regrets. I learned that cheerleading isn’t validation. And validation isn’t always support.
That insight came from getting things wrong. Over and over. Until I stopped pretending I hadn’t.
That distance between who I was and who I’m becoming is called regret.
And it’s good.
It means I’m still learning. Still flexible. Still reachable.
I don’t trust people with no regrets. I trust people who can name them. Learn from them. Build something better because of them.
I have regrets and I’m grateful for them. Because now I understand something I didn’t before. Regrets are good when they make you more honest, more accountable, and more alive.
They’re proof that I’m paying attention now.
Sources with evidence that regrets are good
Need more data to prove to you that regrets are good? Click here for an article that illustrates how regret can encourage thoughtful and thorough decision-making and increase awareness of past errors so people can avoid repeating them. This supports the idea that regret is informative rather than only painful.
You can also click here for a peer-reviewed article explains that regret pushes people toward revised decision-making and corrective action that often improves future outcomes. It’s widely cited in decision-making and behavioral science research, making it a strong backlink for your piece.
