Last month at my book club, Dorothy shared a dream that captured everyone’s attention. “I keep dreaming I’m packing for a trip, but I can’t find my suitcase. When I do find it, it’s full of unworn clothes, still with the tags on,” she said. “I’m 73, and those clothes represent all the versions of me I never wore.”
That moment resonated. It seems that after 65, we often face a deeper kind of regret. It’s not the regrets of our youth, the mistakes we made, but rather the regrets of the lives we didn’t fully live—the dreams we tucked away, waiting for the “right moment” that never came.
The Weight of Postponed Dreams
Just a few years ago, while cleaning my basement, I found a box labeled “When I Have Time.” Inside, there were Italian language tapes from years ago, nearly-finished projects, and a journal filled with the same goal I wrote year after year: “Take the art class.”
Psychologist Eva M. Krockow notes that “Regret is a self-focused negative emotion about something that has happened or been done by us.” But now, at 70, I see that much of my regret comes from missed chances, not through active choices but through endless deferrals.
When my kids were young, I kept telling myself I’d travel after they left for college. Then, after retirement. After my husband’s health improved. By the time I finally booked a trip to Italy, I was asking if there were rooms on the ground floor instead of wondering where the locals dance.
At the time, it all felt responsible. I thought good mothers didn’t abandon their kids for selfish adventures. We tend to store our dreams like overdue tasks, always promising we’ll get to them later.
Unfinished Conversations
Research shows that older adults often regret inactions more than actions, especially missed relationships and opportunities. We cope with these feelings in various ways, but the burden lingers.
I think about my mother, who passed away with stories I never heard. There were moments when I noticed her eyes light up or glaze over, but I never asked her to share her memories. I told myself we’d have a long chat one day over tea. That day, however, never came.
She died while I was teaching. I realized I had spent years discussing the importance of living life fully, yet I treated my own life like a rehearsal, always waiting for the right time.
The Myth of the Perfect Moment
What’s striking about this regret is the logic behind it. Postponement doesn’t feel like rejection; it feels like practicality. I remember when my colleague Sarah invited me hiking for years. Each time, I found an excuse—busy weekends, work stress. Eventually, Sarah moved away and hiked the Pacific Crest Trail without me.
When she sent back pictures, she wrote, “Remember when we were going to do this together?” I realized I had always intended to join her, but I kept delaying until it was too late.
Deferred Dreams and Their Impact
At 45, I started writing a novel about a woman who leaves to become a lighthouse keeper. I stopped after only 17 pages because life kept interrupting. When I finally opened that drawer last year, the pages were yellowed. The story I once envisioned no longer felt possible, and the person I am now has different stories to tell.
This regret also extends to how our choices affect the ones we love. My son recently found my essays post-retirement and remarked he never knew I wanted to write. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. I hesitated, realizing I hid my ambitions to be a responsible parent. In doing so, I taught him that adults focus on duties over dreams.
Learning to Embrace Life
Mary C. Lamia, a psychologist, points out that “Regret is reflective and backward-looking.” However, our bodies remind us to live in the present. I avoided dancing for years because I felt too heavy or too old. After knee replacements, I finally danced at my granddaughter’s wedding, slowly but happily.
I thought about how often I sat and watched others dance, promising myself I’d join in the next time. But there may not be many next times left.
At 70, I’ve stopped waiting for the perfect moment. I write with aching hands, travel with medicine in my bag, and have difficult talks with my children. The versions of myself I postponed haven’t disappeared; they’ve aged with me.
If you’re in your 40s, 50s, or 60s, remember: waiting for the right moment is a myth. Every delay is a choice. The conversations and adventures you keep deferring are not waiting for a perfect day; they’re here now, even if imperfectly.
After 65, regret isn’t just about aging. It’s about realizing we played it safe, waiting for someone else to call us to the stage when we were meant to direct and star in our lives.
For more insights on this topic, check out this article from Psychology Today. It dives deeper into the emotions tied to regret and offers ways to cope with them.
