Yes, I Have Regrets.

There’s this idea floating around—especially in self-help circles—that living without regret is some kind of badge of honor. That the goal is to charge forward, fearless, proclaiming, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

But here’s the thing: I would change things. And I’m not ashamed to say that.

I have regrets. Deep ones. Sharp ones. Soft, lingering ones that show up in the background of sleepless nights.

That’s being human.

My current self regrets things my former self said, or didn’t say.

Things I tolerated when I shouldn’t have.

Things I avoided because I was afraid.

People I hurt.

Opportunities I let pass because I didn’t think I was ready—or worthy.

But here’s the grace in it:

That former version of me, the one I sometimes wince to look back on, was doing the best she could. With what she knew. With what she had.

She made choices out of survival. She wasn’t trying to sabotage her future. She was trying to make it through the day.

So yes, I have regrets. But I don’t use them as weapons. I use them as teachers.

To claim a life with no regret is to deny evolution. It’s to pretend that the person you were ten years ago had it all figured out—which, let’s be honest, they didn’t.

Regret, to me, is a sign that growth has occurred. It means I’ve become someone who sees more clearly. Someone who knows better now.

And maybe that’s the most human thing of all:

To look back with both sorrow and compassion.

To hold your past self accountable—but gently.

To say: You could’ve done better, but I understand why you didn’t.

And then keep going.

Forward. Wiser. Still learning.

—

With regret, and grace.

July2025