Something that came up in a coaching session last week: Regret is a choice. I think I’d amend that now to say: Regret is also a choice.

It was in the context of making decisions, ones that visibly alter the trajectory of a life, and the fear that comes with that. For me the common fear is: what if I’m wrong? And where I’ve landed on that is that there probably is no wrong, but there are choices that foster more regret than others. Let’s get clarity from an example.

When I was 19 or so I decided that it would be a good idea to figure out what I would do for the rest of my life. I remember this moment with clarity—I was sitting in an apartment at Wolf Creek in Raleigh, right off of Western Boulevard, I had this huge black Dell desktop, the background on my computer was Strong Bad, and the Strokes had just released Room on Fire, which I was listening to on vinyl.[1]

I was thinking: I’ll either be a lawyer or a teacher. In my final years of high school I had become inspired by one of my social studies teachers, Mr. Morrison (who would, coincidentally, go on to be a lawyer), and I thought that might be cool. I’d also been told at some point that I liked arguing enough to be a lawyer.[2]

The moment of truth came when I looked up the average salaries. At the time lawyers were averaging something like $70k and teachers $40k (in my memory, at least), and that made the decision. I’d rather make more money than less.

I’d love to say that I talked to a career counselor or my parents or a mentor or friends and really listened to what they had to say. But I didn’t. I was 19, with brash overconfidence covering the ever-lingering self-doubt. And a good way to make a decision was to look at a webpage of salaries and go from there. Great. And considering I’m no longer a lawyer and I managed to accumulate quite a bit of debt from that endeavor, it might create some regret for me!

But the effects of that decision are, of course, way more complex. Deciding to go to law school made me a much, much better student. I had something to work for, I discovered where the library was, even if most of my time there was spent goofing off or horrible attempts at flirtation. My GPA went from 3.51 my first 3 semesters to 3.82 the last four. I graduated early. I go to law school. I’m a pretty good student entering, I’m a pretty great one by the time I leave.

And then life spins off in its wild ways. The years go by, I meet friends, keep some, move on from others. Graduate law school. Pass the bar. Move to DC. Fall in love. Leave lawyering. Move back to NC. Start teaching. Fall out of love. Stop teaching. And that only gets us to 2014!

So I guess I could regret having gone to law school, accumulating six figures of student debt, and not using the degree or license anymore. That would be a choice. But the beautiful thing is that it is a choice. We don’t have to regret things, especially choices like this. There are lessons to be learned there, sure, and regret helps illuminate some of those lessons.[3] But regret, post-lesson, loses its utility. Regret for lost years or lost money, at this point, only serve to make me forlorn. Regret also tends to be myopic—there’s as much there to be thankful for in my choice as to regret, and probably more on the thankful side.

A couple of other stray thoughts:

-You make once choice, and then you usually get to choose again. I could have left law school every single day I was there. I kept choosing to come back.

-It might be more helpful to frame may choices as: what opportunity do I want to learn from? This is much less weighty than: what do I want to live with for the rest of my life?

---

[1] Pretentiously.

[2] Kids, if anyone ever tells you this, it’s misguided. Arguing with people incessantly is just fucking annoying. Sorry to everyone I encountered ages 16-25.  

[3] The one I’ve kept ever since: listen to the people around you. Plenty of warnings were there, but I couldn’t hear them.