The Illusion of Regret and the Science of Closure

At thirty, I often find myself reflecting on the choices I have made and the paths I have taken. These moments of introspection bring a spectrum of emotions—a quiet voice within acknowledges the weight of past decisions, smiles with a hint of nostalgia, and, despite lingering uncertainties, finds the strength to declare: I have no regrets.

Each choice I made was guided by my values and principles, shaped by the information available to me at the time. I committed myself fully, working diligently to honor those decisions. And yet, when the outcomes did not align with my expectations, I could not help but wonder—Would I have chosen differently if I had known what lay ahead?

Life often presents us with choices that seem equally viable, forcing us to make decisions based on intuition, logic, or a blend of both. In those moments, we select the path that appears most promising, believing it to be the right one. Yet, as time passes and circumstances unfold in unexpected ways, doubt creeps in. We begin to question: What if I had chosen differently? Where would I be now?

I, too, once indulged in such thoughts—until I had a realization that reshaped my perspective.

During a particularly challenging period, when my aspirations felt distant and my ambitions seemed to be slipping away, I voiced my disappointment to my husband. I confided in him:

"I wonder how my life would have turned out if I had chosen the other path. What opportunities did I miss? What growth did I forgo? Who might I have become?"

He listened patiently before offering a response that would forever shift my outlook. Holding my hand, he said:

“If your present self could travel back in time to observe an alternate version of her life—one where she made a different decision—she would lose all memory of her current reality. By stepping into that alternate past, she would become part of that timeline, with no knowledge of the life she left behind. She wouldn’t know what she was comparing it to, nor would she have the awareness to question whether she had made the "right" choice.”

I never considered myself to be particularly smart in science and mathematics, but my artistic mind grasped the concept effortlessly. The way he explained it, the way he framed his words—it all just made sense to me. That’s when I realized that regret is, in many ways, an illusion—one born from the impossible assumption that we can exist in multiple realities at once, comparing them with full knowledge of the present. But life doesn’t work that way. And with that realization came an immense sense of relief.

From that moment on, I no longer saw past decisions as sources of doubt but as necessary steps that led me to where I am today. Science and logic, with their unwavering clarity, offered a path to peace.

Concepts from physics, such as the multiverse and parallel universes, provide an intellectual framework for understanding life’s uncertainties. If, as the many-worlds theory suggests, every decision spawns a new reality, then all potential versions of myself exist simultaneously yet remain fundamentally inaccessible to me. The only reality I can experience is the one unfolding before me. That’s why they say, 'Live in the present.'

This realization granted me a profound sense of closure—one that emotions alone could not provide. It reinforced the idea that our decisions, whether they lead to expected outcomes or not, are valid simply because they were made with the best judgment available at the time. Life’s natural flow cannot be micromanaged; it must be trusted. And in that trust, joy and fulfillment find their rightful place.

Trust is hard; it’s not easy. But when life presents us with two choices—positivity or negativity—we often lean toward the negative because it’s easier to sit in sadness and misery. I have felt that. But I have also realized that I would rather flow with life than resist it. Lao Tzu* taught that when we let go, we make space for what we might become. So, as I release who I think I am, I step into who I am meant to be. I take the risk, not by fighting or running, but by choosing to move with life instead of against it.

I hope this helped. : )

*Lao Tzu (Laozi), the ancient Chinese philosopher and founder of Taoism (Daoism).