Regret and Authenticity

“Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.”

― Søren Kierkegaard

I often find myself dwelling on regrets, especially at night. I cringe at the perceived missed opportunities and mistakes and desperately wish I had behaved better. However, the quote by Kierkegaard above reminds me that making different choices would not have reduced the number of my regrets.

Even though choosing not to get married might have brought me financial benefits, it would have meant missing out on the experience and holding onto idealistic fantasies about finding true love. If I hadn’t faced failure and emotional distress while working in a First Nations community, I would have criticized myself for not having the courage to try. If I had put more effort into my university studies, I would have regretted not taking the opportunity for personal growth and enjoyment. So, if regret is unavoidable, how should I live? Kierkegaard suggests pursuing authenticity. But what is authenticity, and how can I embody it?

Authenticity is the quality of being true or genuine. Applied to life, it involves self-awareness, honesty, consistency, courage, and responsibility. So, to live authentically, I must attend to each of these factors.

My journey to self-awareness has been slow. I have often avoided it and instead opted for distractions and self-deception. Ironically, my failures help me: I face internal and external reality when my environment refuses to support my illusions. So, I now know that I am not mathematically gifted. I’m easily distracted. I sometimes run from responsibility. I often take criticism poorly. However, I’m good at seeing context. I’m persistent. I tolerate pain well.

I value honesty. However, I’ve found that some environments don’t support it. While married I discovered that honest feedback was often penalized; I was unaware of the tacit understandings that underpin that institution. So, I now live alone and keep a small circle of friends who reward honesty.

Given my distractibility and tendency to flee responsibility, maintaining consistency is difficult. However, since retiring I have simplified my life. My tasks are basic, and my cat reminds me when I stray from some of them. Thus, lowering the demands I place on myself and attending mindfully to daily life helps me maintain consistency.

I can be cowardly. However, I also know that I have a pattern of facing my fears. I don’t know where this trait comes from but I’m grateful for it. Also, I draw inspiration from the many great and small who gracefully approach difficulty and danger. I seek to learn from their examples. I am not Nelson Mandela, but I can invoke his memory when I feel like fleeing a piano recital.

As stated previously, I often avoid responsibility. So, I’ve reduced their number. Now I have a small set of basic expectations. One key expectation is that I will be honest. Another is that I will provide for my cat to the best of my ability. Further, I strive to employ my talents ethically. Hopefully, this is evident in my writing.

By attending to these factors, I seek to live authentically. Aligning my actions with my values, I am less influenced by the vicissitudes of culture and fashion. Of course, as indicated above, I will still have regrets, but at least I can say I “did it my way.”