Past decisions cascade into consequences, both intentional and not

My friends and I, we are at an age that demands introspection. We’ve lived long enough to collect mistakes, to accept our strengths and faults, to understand that the right amount of rumination is never wasted. We finally know what gives us joy and what allows us to flourish — though we may not always apply those hard-earned lessons.

So, it came as no surprise when a friend emailed me a book recommendation. A university professor, she moved cross country for a new career and raised a family thousands of miles from where both of us attended school and cut our professional baby teeth in newspapers.

The book “makes me miss the life we might have lived had we stayed in Florida,” she mused. “At times, it seems like a parallel universe.” Super Bowl season, she went on to explain, always reminds her of her winter wedding, in which I was her matron of honor 39 years ago.

Her wistful words carry a universal truth we don’t always admit to. Who among us hasn’t inhabited, however briefly, a parallel universe? If I had selected Y instead of X, where would I be now? Had I chosen A over B, would my career have turned out any differently? This is an exercise in imagination, yes, but also a recognition that past decisions invariably cascade into consequences, both intentional and not.

Twenty-four years ago this month, for instance, I agreed to accompany my BFF to a party. I did so reluctantly and only because she, fearful of going alone, insisted on it.

Turns out, the decision was life-changing. I met The Hubby there.

On the flip side, I buckled to parental pressure and stayed home for my first two years of college, majoring in the practical instead of the fanciful. Forty-eight years later, I wish I had been bolder, more confident and audacious.

Either way, both decisions have had an outsized influence on me.

Albert Camus, the French philosopher and writer, spoke from experience when he said, “Life is a sum of all your choices.” The choice of where we live. What we study. Who we marry. How we respect (or abuse) our bodies.

My friend’s email reflected this in abundance. Which may be why she told me about what she’s reading, “The Power of Regret: How Looking Backward Moves Us Forward,” a self-help book published in February. In it, author Dan Pink, a former Al Gore speechwriter, points out that entertaining regret isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If employed correctly, the emotions it elicits can lead us to a more satisfying life.

This concept, however, goes against what most of us have been taught. Regret is not a state of mind we crave or cherish. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve told myself — or heard others tell me — to let go, to release, to relinquish what’s behind in order to move forward. In fact, it’s uniquely un-American to dwell in the past.

“A good life has a singular focus (forward) and an unwavering valence (positive),” Pink writes about our wellingrained no-regret policy. “Regret perturbs both. It is backwardlooking and unpleasant — a toxin in the bloodstream of happiness.”

And yet, Pink believes that, tempered with self-forgiveness and compassion, regret helps us make better decisions. Since July 2020, he has collected more than 17,000 regrets on his World Regret Survey site and divided these into four categories: foundation (if only I’d done the work), boldness (what I didn’t do), connections (relationships I let fall by the wayside) and moral (people I’ve hurt).

I suspect each of us can check off at least one category. I know mine most definitely. Now,

I’m brave enough to admit it: boldness.

Which is yours?

Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.