Regrets of not doing: what research says and how not to collect them

What people regret most, and what the dying regret, are questions asked so often that the reason is easy to see: we want to know in advance, while there is still time to change something. The best-known source is a book, not a study. Bronnie Ware, an Australian palliative care nurse, spent years with people in their last weeks and wrote down what they said most often. Among her recurring themes: living by other people's expectations, working less, saying what you feel, keeping friends, letting yourself be happy. These are the observations of one attentive person, not a sample and not an experiment, so they are best read as good stories rather than statistics. Still, they share a feature that psychologists have tested in the lab: almost all of these regrets are about things that did not happen.

What do people regret more: what they did or what they did not do?

In 1995 Thomas Gilovich and Victoria Medvec pulled together work on regret and proposed a picture that became a classic. What we regret more depends on the distance from which we look. Soon after an event, what hurts is what we did: acted too fast, said too much, spent it for nothing. Looking back over years, what comes to the front is what we did not do: did not call, did not go, did not try.

In the short run people regret actions more sharply; in the long run, inactions.

The authors give several reasons, and none needs a textbook. A bad decision can be explained, justified, turned into a lesson: it happened, so there is something to tell. An inaction never ends. It stays an open "what if" with no answer. And missed chances pile up: in a lifetime there are fewer things we did than things we did not.

Is it true that people only regret what they did not do?

Here is the honest part of the story. Daniel Kahneman pushed back: in his view the picture is less clear-cut, and the claim that inaction is regretted longer depends on which regrets you ask about and how you count them.

In 1998 the three of them, Gilovich, Medvec and Kahneman, wrote a joint paper and partly agreed. Regrets about inaction come in two kinds. Some are wistful: warm and sad, with a flavor of "wouldn't that have been something". That kind of sadness about what never happened may not torment anyone, and can even add something to a memory. Others are hot: a sharp "why didn't I, when I could have". Hot regrets about inaction usually involve a real chance that was missed by one's own choice.

There is no final verdict here, and inventing one would be wrong. The debate is not closed, and the popular line "people regret what they did not do more than what they did" is only partly true. More precisely: viewed from far enough ahead, an inaction has a chance of becoming the most lasting regret, but not every such regret hurts.

What do people regret longest?

One more study adds a detail. In 2018 Shai Davidai and Thomas Gilovich looked at people's most enduring regrets and asked what they connect to: the ideal self (who you hoped to become, what you dreamed of) or the ought self (what you were obliged to do by someone's rules, yours or others'). Their main finding: the most lasting regrets are more often about the ideal self, about unfulfilled hopes, than about broken obligations.

That fits what Bronnie Ware heard. People do not regret unwashed laundry. They regret a life with less of what they felt was theirs.

How not to collect regrets: a page called "what I keep postponing"

A practical thing follows. Unlike regret about an action, regret about an inaction can almost always still be prevented, before it becomes regret. All it takes is one journal page, once a month.

Title: what I keep postponing. Under it, three parts, or just three short paragraphs.

1. What. Name what sits in "someday": call, go, start, finish, say. One sentence each, no excuses.
2. Why not now. One honest word: scary, no time, embarrassing, not sure. At this step the reason often turns out to be out of date.
3. One small step this week. Not "learn the language" but "find a group and sign up for a trial class". The step should take under an hour and not need perfect conditions.

The limit matters: take one item, not the whole list. A list of ten postponed things turns into a reproach, and reproach is a poor motivator. One step a week adds up to about fifty steps a year. It sounds modest, but that is fifty times that something undone became done.

How to tell whether to act or just let it be sad

Not everything undone calls for action. This is where the distinction drawn by Gilovich, Medvec and Kahneman helps. Three questions show which kind yours is.

• Is the door still open? You can call an old friend after ten years of silence. You cannot become an Olympic champion after forty. If the door is closed, the regret stays a sadness. You can live through it, write about it, but there is nothing to "fix".
• Is it about my values or someone else's? If you want it yourself, not because "that is what one does", it is the ideal self, and those are the regrets that last. If the motive is "so that nobody judges me", the step can safely be postponed or dropped.
• Is it an action or a state behind it? Sometimes "never getting to Italy" really means "I want more freedom". Then the goal can be reached another way, not necessarily that one.

If the door is open and the wish is yours, this is the case where sadness is better turned into a step. If it is closed, something else helps: write down what exactly you miss and what that says about you. Often a regret about the unlived hides a value you can express differently. Sorry you did not become a musician? Maybe you need more music in your life, and that does not require a stage.

Once a month: reviewing what you keep postponing

The second habit is shorter than the first. At the end of the month, open the page and answer three questions.

1. Which step got done? Even a small one counts.
2. What stayed on the page, and why? If an item moves over for the third month in a row, that is a signal: either shrink it to a laughable size or strike it honestly. Striking it is also a decision, and it saves energy.
3. What would I not like to regret next month?

Three questions, five minutes. The aim is not "to have no regrets": that is out of reach and becomes a source of anxiety itself. The aim is more modest: that what you might later regret comes into view at least once a month, while there is still something you can do about it.

What to read next

If a page is not enough, you can talk to yourself across time. There is a separate piece on a letter to your future self, with a question that fits this topic well: "what did I decide and want you to check". For telling what matters when time feels short, see what matters if time were short. And the thought of finitude without gloom is covered in memento vivere.

What it comes down to is fairly simple: much of what people regret later can still be changed while it lies ahead. You are, for now, in exactly that case.

FAQ

What do people regret at the end of life? According to Bronnie Ware, a palliative care nurse, the most common themes were living by other people's expectations, working too much, unspoken feelings and lost friendships. These are one person's observations, not a study.

Do people regret actions or inactions more? Gilovich and Medvec (1995) found that actions hurt more in the short run and inactions in the long run. Kahneman disagreed, and in their joint 1998 paper the authors agreed that some inaction regrets are wistful and others are hot.

How do you avoid regretting what you never did? Once a month, list what you keep postponing and pick one step for the week that takes under an hour. If the door is already closed, writing down which value was behind the wish helps more than a step.

What to do with a regret that cannot be fixed? Write down what exactly you miss and what that says about your values, then look for another way to express them. Not every regret calls for action: wistful sadness about what never happened can simply be part of memory.