If You Have No Regrets, Maybe You Haven’t Been Paying Attention

When someone tells me they have no regrets, I can’t help it. I see a person as bottled up as carbonated water, one twist cap away from exploding.

Come on. Everyone has regrets—at least occasionally. The trouble is, telling someone you do has become a breach of emotional etiquette akin to admitting failure.

The expression “no regrets” even has its own hashtag with over 4.5 million posts. It’s also a popular tattoo, though ironically, many people with tattoos do regret getting them years later.

I’ve learned to avoid using the word regret in a sentence altogether—just in case someone is compelled to coach me on the art of “letting go,” which, honestly, irks me as much as a loud talker in a quiet place.

But what if the culture of having no regrets has become a way to avoid dealing with our truths? Are we afraid of regret because it forces us to confront our anger, mistakes, and missed chances?

Regret: The Word and Its Weight

We can call it insight. Longing. A missed chance. But let’s be honest—it’s still regret. Softening the language doesn’t make it disappear.

The word itself comes from the Old French regreter, meaning “to weep or lament.” Its early use wasn’t about self-condemnation. It was about reflection. About reckoning. It meant you actually felt something.

And clearly, we still do. A recent survey found that nearly one-third of baby boomers have regrets that have haunted them for more than three decades, and they still think of them as much as three times per month.

That’s more than occasional. That’s a lot of regret to carry around.

Not All Regrets Are Created Equal

Some regrets are fleeting. When I wake up in the middle of the night with heartburn, I regret my meal choices. But deeper regrets—the kind tied to love, identity, or missed opportunities—are harder to shake. These regrets are far from simple.

Journalist Daniel Pink found that regrets of inaction (things we didn’t do) outnumber action regrets 2:1, especially as we age. He says that action regrets may be softened with “at least” thinking (“At least I have wonderful children”).

According to Pink, most regret falls into one of these categories:

Foundation: I should’ve been more responsible.

Moral: I knew it was wrong and did it anyway.

Connection: I didn’t reach out and the relationship faded.

Boldness: I played it safe when I should’ve taken the risk.

These are the regrets that not only sting, but can linger.

Occasionally though, someone tries to rewrite the ending. Alfred Nobel got that chance. Regret didn’t crush him, it redirected him. The inventor of dynamite, he supposedly reevaluated his legacy after reading a premature obituary that called him “The merchant of death.” He was so pained about how he might be remembered, that he created the Nobel Prizes to honor those who provide the “greatest benefit to mankind.”

What Women Over 50 Regret—And Why It Matters

We don’t talk enough about the regret women carry—the big stuff that doesn’t fade over time tied to love, ambition, and sacrifice.  When I asked women over 50 to share their biggest regret, their answers came quickly. They were personal, painful, and still present.

“I was always a pretty good-looking woman,” said Virgina, 69. “And being attractive served me well. I was raised to attract a man and have a family and a big beautiful house.” But the beauty was only on the outside. “I stayed in an abusive situation. I knew I needed to take my children and get out, I was just afraid. I wish I’d realized earlier that my biggest asset was my brain, not my looks.” Eventually, Virginia came to understand that she had much more power over her life than she thought. “I got a job and worked my way up until I was a senior vice president making more money than that man,” she said.

Four years ago, Cathy, 66, made a difficult choice to remove herself from her family. Her older siblings, as adults, ignored, belittled, and gaslit her. To keep the peace, she didn’t speak up. Until at age 60. “Yes, 60,” she said. “I’d had enough. I regret that I wasn’t stronger.” Now, the trauma lingers, she said, and “there are many triggers.”

When Anna, 55, had her first child, she was partway through a second master’s degree and felt lucky to be able to quit teaching to focus on raising him. Over time, that luck turned to regret for not budgeting for childcare so she could finish her degree and return to work. “I would have a pension now,” she said, “and could have enjoyed the satisfaction of career success when my kids became more self-sufficient.”

Regret as a Tool

Regret is thought of differently across cultures. In Japan, hansei is a daily ritual of reflecting on failure, taking responsibility for your actions, and making a commitment to improve. It’s considered a healthy practice.

Here in the U.S., women with regret are often told to “let it go” and be forgiving, that regret is unhealthy. But are we letting go of our pain—or our power? What if our regrets are the exact places where our wisdom—and outrage—live? And what if they’re key to helping us evolve as individuals and a society?

Which brings me back to whether or not regret is a bad thing. Yes, it can be toxic, according to Dr. Amy Summerville, if it becomes “habitual.”

When that happens, it’s more like regret jail—and nobody wants to be there.

Not every regret can be fixed, but some can provide clarity and inspire action. If you’re ready, write the regret down. Ask what it reveals about what still matters to you. Then, use that insight to guide what comes next.

We Regret Because We Care

Philosopher Herbert Morris called regret a kind of “moral residue”—a trace of what once mattered deeply. If we’re willing to examine our regrets, we may find they’re more than just our darkest moments. They point to the life we still want to live.

And let’s be honest—if Adele gets to call a thousand times to say I’m sorry, the rest of us can admit we’ve got some unfinished business too.