According to expert columnist Bea Appleby, regrets can have a silver lining

The burden of regret can weigh heavy on us, but recognising what these remorseful thoughts actually signify can be truly enlightening

As a therapist, I’ve spent many hours with people who carry the weight of regret. Some clients talk about it with shame, others are bolder and see regret as proof that they once dared. Often, it surfaces unexpectedly when life slows down; perhaps a pang of ‘what if’ during grief, or a painful awareness when facing life’s turning points.

I’ve also noticed that almost everyone believes they shouldn’t feel it. We live in a culture that idolises the mantra ‘no regrets’. It appears on T-shirts, in song lyrics, and social media captions as a slogan for fearless living. But, in my experience, the people who insist they have no regrets are often the ones most afraid of being hurt by them.

In the therapy room, I’ve come to see that regret isn’t a weakness. It’s a sign of growth. Rather than something to run from, or evidence of failure, it can be a reflection of our capacity to learn and evolve.

Research professor and author Brené Brown said in a 2015 interview: “Regret is a fair, but tough teacher. Regret, I think, is a function of empathy.” In other words, regret means we care enough to wish we’d done things differently.

Regret, when we allow it to speak, can be one of the most honest, and ultimately hopeful, emotions we have. It tells us that we now know better.

Recently a client going through a divorce told me: “I should have left years ago. I wasted so much time.” But, as we explored her story, what emerged wasn’t waste, but complexity. She had stayed because she hoped, and she didn’t yet know what she knows now. Her regret changed from a condemnation of her past self to a reflection of how far she’d come. Her past self did the best she could with the resources she had access to at the time, her present self simply saw things more clearly.

That’s the paradox at the heart of regret, it hurts precisely because we’ve grown.

The temptation, of course, is to turn that pain inward, into harsh self-judgement or shame. That’s where self-compassion becomes essential. When we hold regret with compassion rather than criticism, it becomes a path to growth rather than a dead end.

Regret isn’t only about choices made, it’s often about the passing of time. As we grow older, many of us become more aware of the paths we didn’t take, the versions of ourselves we didn’t live out. Irvin Yalom, an author and professor of psychiatry, has written extensively about what he calls ‘existential regret’; the sense that we haven’t lived as fully or authentically as we might have. In his book, Staring at the Sun: Being at Peace With Your Own Mortality, he suggests that we are not only afraid of dying, but of having not truly lived.

In this sense, regret can be a wake-up call. It invites us to consider: am I living in alignment with my values? What have I postponed? Where have I lost myself along the way? These questions are not always easy to face, but I’ve seen people explore them and find inspiration for important life changes.

This is why I don’t believe in the ‘no regrets’ philosophy. I believe in wise regrets – the kind that teach us who we are, and who we still want to be.

If you’re carrying a regret right now, rather than pushing it away, or burying it under shame, sit with it. Ask what it is trying to show you. What didn’t you prioritise? What did you need that you didn’t give yourself? What would it mean to choose differently now?

Regret is not the enemy of a good life, it’s part of what makes life meaningful. It shows us that we’re learning and evolving.