At some point in my young life, my mother said, “Regret is a painkiller for fools.”
I don’t recall asking her to explain herself, but I believe she referred to two possible responses to one’s past.
First, there is the sadness and lingering wish that comes with mistakes or missed opportunities.
Second, the regretful apology some offer after injuring you.
Whatever mom intended, her choice of words and the way she spoke them revealed bitterness—even contempt—for those who allowed themselves to be preoccupied with the unchangeable past.
The guidance implicit in those six words described her attitude toward life. There was no looking back at the days gone by, except as a complicated experience. Instead, she lived in the present.
Beyond defending her family, Jeanette Stein offered intolerance and unforgiveness to those who injured her, writing them out of her life without the possibility of reconsideration or return.
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We can grieve losses and mistakes. Often, we can apologize. In the absence of direct communication with the injured party, confession is available. Both therapy and some religions encourage it.
Yet long past disappointments must be approached differently. The “if only” quality of self-blame and lost time is often addressed by recognizing at least three things.
Life does not permit the fulfillment of every wish, and chance can change everything.
People tend to exaggerate the perfection and transformative virtue of the road not taken. The avenue not pursued often towers over everything else we accomplished. It shimmers in our idealizing imagination. The path we chose, in contrast, is imperfect: the wrong choice, so we believe.
One must make the most of what the world offers in the moment, accepting our imperfect wisdom and limited ability to predict the future.
Recognizing the remaining possibilities is the essential next step.
Add to this formula Rilke’s poetic reminder of what to do:
You must change your life.
Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor and Stoic philosopher, offered similar advice:
Waste no more time arguing (with yourself) what a good man should be. Be one.
Now on to a gentleman named James. The YouTube video below offers a six-minute example of a wistfully regretful life, but not a desperate one. This chap describes his history and what disappoints him about himself as he reflects upon the darkness and shadows of his past.
Despite James’s self-denigration, I hope you notice a tiny spark of possibility. More about this after the video.
James wears his Scot bonnet tam with a flair. It reinforces his impeccable taste. This Irishman lived on three continents and moved from his country to London. At the same time, he tells the interviewer that he is “the greatest failure who ever walked the planet earth.”
Another might say his tale is more than usually interesting.
Our hero’s list of failures includes no profession, no money, no wife, and no friends. He is the “could have been” man.
With enough money to be stylish, the care he takes in using the photographer’s name, and the gift of making people laugh, James is not without talents.
His biggest problem might be a preoccupation with what could have been, himself, his loneliness, and a belief that his story is over.
Over or yet to be?
As Rilke and Marcus tell us, the ink is not dry, and blank pages in the book of our lives stare back at us, waiting.
Write.
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The top image is a 1916 self-portrait of Egon Schiele.
Having regrets is not a bad thing, especially when they lead to life lessons that prompt us to make positive changes.
I like the phrase “regretful apology,” because it accurately describes an insincere attempt. People who say, “I’m sorry if I offended you in some way,” imply we’re being insensitive rather than owning up to the specific behavior/incident they need to apologize for. The reality is they quite likely know what they’ve done and can’t cop to it.
Agreed about regrets put to good use, Pete. Yes, the “political apologies” are miles from genuine ones. The best book I have read on how and why to apologize is Aaron Lazar’s “On Apology.” It is a terrific book, but, as you suggest, is not what the “regretful apologizers” want any part of. Thanks.
I love the idea that the ink is not dry and there are still blank pages. Thank you, Dr. Stein. The James video is so poignant. I feel regret strongly, not in the same ways, of course. But the blank pages still beckon.
Thank you, Lori. Yes, James’s situation is touching. I don’t know what became of him once the YouTube video came out, but I imagine he received opportunities he had not recently encountered. I hope they relieved him of some of his regret. I am glad to know that the blank pages still beckon for you, Lori.
Caro dottor Stein,
Your text made me cry, Mr James video made me cry.
Even if, as pointed out by you and Lori, still blank pages await for us to write on.
I’m since months sinking to the bottom (it’s why I disappeared from commentaries on your posts).
A great amount of profound traumas in a relatively short timeframe.
The worst, unbearably tragic and traumatic, concerning my family.
I feel the impulse to vomit when writing this simple word which could, should be one of the most precious in any language.
Famiglia.
Still playing concerts every week for my oldies. But Joy is not present. Kicking up my backside each time (I ask for forgiveness in case this expression were to sound vulgar in English, which isn’t my mother language).
A hint of joy nevertheless appears, and emotion and even tears.
So it’s no complete despair.
Life can be so burdensome, sometimes, so close to the desire it’ll be over…
One would so much need a dottor Stein at his side…
Well: let’s kick up my backside and bike for a bath in my river.
Con affetto, dottor Stein.
I am very sorry for the suffering you have been through and its continuation, Micaela. I wish my video had not evoked more of it. The people for whom you play still have the joy implicit in your art. I hope the sadness in you life begins to dissipate before long. I will be thinking of you.
Grazie du cuore, caro dottor Stein. 🙏
Oh my goodness. The chance encounter captured in the video…the raw unfolding on camera as James spoke to Chris like a long lost confidante. Tears at times as I watched, Dr. Stein. Feeling privileged to witness a moment of meaningful connection. A reminder of how many people carry palpable regret. I wonder now about James. Wishing him well. ❤️
Thank you, Vicki. I wonder about James, as well, and hope something good came out of the experience. As you will understand, it seems to me that there are at least two levels to his troubles. The first is the fact of the multiple defeats he lists for us. The second is how they came to be, including how his choices and his approach to other people might have influenced his current situation, and what he might yet do about them. We only know the surface, the brief recitation that leaves him (and us) unhappy. There is doubtless more.
Agree…agree…including his compelling disclosure, street side with a stranger. So much to wonder about…certain there is much more to his story. ❤️
I had lived a life of much regret and pain, so when I came across the concept that I’m always in the place I need to be, for my growth and betterment, it helped me release that burden of angst I had carried for so many years.
Having been severely criticized and abused in my younger years, I absorbed that I was always wrong, that no matter what I did was the wrong choice, and I suffered the consequences from other people. Regret was a part of my life, I severely chastised myself for everything I did and was.
The whole thought concept of being in the right place lifted that burden I had been struggling to survive under. It was freeing and allowed me to focus on what was happening in the present moment without always layering on severely judgement.
It is clearly in your interest to see your situation as the right place for you to be, Tamara. I cannot say that I often encountered this solution among my patients. The method of adaptation for one person might not work for another, and therapists are trained and experienced in making our own adaptations to fit what each individual needs. The world is a complicated place. Continued good wishes, Tamara.
Dr. Stein, thanks for sharing these words of wisdom. The following comment especially resonated with me: “One must make the most of what the world offers in the moment, accepting our imperfect wisdom and limited ability to predict the future.” Though there have been many other paths I may have taken, I’ve done the best I can to move forward with what I got.
The photographer’s conversation with James, emotionally alone since the age of four, brought me to tears. The Beatles song, Eleanor Rigby (All the Lonely People) came to mind. All alone. No wife. No friends. So much regret. So much self-criticism. Two plays written and sitting in a drawer for twenty years. Yet he captured the attention of a stranger by the way in which he carries himself in the world. The photographer’s YouTube video has, so far, captured the attention of 215,000 viewers. What does this say of our society?
Thank you, Rosaliene. To respond to your last question, I would guess the number of viewers of the video offers us a commentary on the numerous persons who carry regret, and the chance to take a look at whether another person suffers in the same way. As you suggest in your first paragraph, you have made (I should say) daring choices and learned to move forward on the paths that became available. I, too, think you have done well under the circumstances, and I believe we all do well if we can accept that this very human outcome is in the nature of what it means to be a human being. Your empathy for James also says much about your humanity. I suspect that among James’s 215,000 viewers there have been many tears shed, making a quiet, unknown, unseen club of those who wish him well.
I appreciate your kind response, Dr. Stein <3
Thank you for this, Dr. Stein. This is all so profound and touching. “The ink is not dry, and blank pages in the book of our lives stare back at us, waiting.” It’s quite interesting to observe how many people allow themselves to become tangled in or ensnared by their past, effectively prohibiting them from moving forward and moving on. Beautiful musings for the weekend.
Thank you, Erin. Yes, we do get “tangled in or ensnared by (our) past.” I think you’ve identified several of the tasks we all face: to recognize what has entangled us or how we have entangled ourselves, to free ourselves of the ensnarement, and to make sure our next few steps don’t take us to another, similar entanglement! All the best, Erin.
Wow, that video of James is fascinating. Here’s to getting those plays published! He does seem to have character and I’m glad that Chris noticed that.
Rilke and Aurelius have some powerful things to say about it. Thanks for the thought-provoking essay, Dr. Stein.
Thanks, Wynne. I am glad you watched the short video. James seemed to spill himself open up to a point, as if he had been hoping for someone to listen to his story. We can only wish him good luck and a consoling path.
First, I found myself wondering why you chose a drawing by Egon Schiele as the art for this blogpost? I love Schiele’s work, but struggled to see the connection.
Regarding the topic of regret, I wonder if there are important insights to be gained in considering our regrets. If we simply move on and “write”, without understanding why we made the choices that have led to regret, do we lose the opportunity to gain self-knowledge? Is acceptance even possible without that understanding? I love the idea of gaining closure by accepting our imperfect wisdom and imperfect ability to predict the future … Wonderful blog post. Thank you.
First, Rhonda, thanks for your thoughtful comments. My view of my blog is that I am not writing a book or any complete discourse on whatever topic I choose. There are always other ways to look at the world, and I encourage that, as well as allowing myself to do it, too.
I put up lots of images on my blogs, as you know. Not all have a strong tie to the subject. Rather, I enjoy the images and learn more about art by searching for them.
That said, there is a connection between Schiele and the photo of James, as well as the stories of their lives. Schiele died at age 28 due to the Spanish Flu. He took risks, including a lifestyle that got him jailed for the way he lived, his public relationships with women, and paintings that included nudity.
To my mind, in contrast, James, seems a hesitant man, the kind of fellow who, perhaps unfairly, would be unseen in most crowds. To the good, he wasn’t lost to the photographer.
Nonetheless, James is an old man, one who doesn’t have infinite time to either come to terms with his past or to take action that he will feel good about. His plays have not been made public, at least as far as we know. James lives a quiet life in contrast to Egon Schiele.
You are certainly correct in saying that there are things to learn in life, why we make the choices we do, why we choose the people who inhabit our life, and why relationships fail, etc.
If James were younger and I were his therapist, I’d take considerable time asking questions of the kind that I just referred to. And, I would do it in part because he might make some of the same mistakes if not encouraged to first understand himself more.
Since James isn’t young, I’d hope that he would be a fast learner and be able to relaunch himself before too long. My take on him (certainly not based on any clinical evaluation) is that he is stuck, and has been going around in sorrowful circles about his failures and regrets for quite a while already. It doesn’t sound like doing so is productive.
I hope the above addresses some of your thoughts and questions in reading my post. Your commentary here is always welcome.
Wow, James really opened up to Chris. I think Chris just wanted to take a photo, but what an incredible conversation and confession it was. It seems to me that he actually had a good life, and the things that he said that he regretted, like speaking his mind—which he did throughout the video—go back to your point about how “People tend to exaggerate the perfection and transformative virtue of the road not taken. The avenue not pursued often towers over everything else we accomplished. It shimmers in our idealizing imagination. The path we chose, in contrast, is imperfect: the wrong choice, so we believe.” It is really sad that at this point of his life, James is not enjoying the road taken and is still longing for what he thinks is the perfect path. Excellent post, Dr. Stein.
I agree with your observation about Chris ending the conversation when James probably wanted to continue it. I treated several individuals who, like James, spilled out their life story without awareness that this will drive away most of us on a first encounter, and unable to explain why they are alone.
If we assume for a moment that James was, unconsciously, trying to find another adult who would offer the warmth and kindness his mother reportedly never gave him, the blank spaces in the picture we have of him start to fill up.
Of course, I don’t know him, so I don’t advise banking on this. In any case, I think you might have a good eye for human nature, Edward. Thanks for this conversation about James.
You’re very welcome, Dr. Stein. I think you are right about those blank spaces. I felt a lot of mixed emotions while listening to him.
Well said, Edward. Much the same for me.