When Yeahs Become Regrets

A couple of things I want to clear up in today’s post.

First, I want to make it clear that not all screens are bad.

I have been harping on digital distractions a lot lately in these articles. What I am really pointing to is my particular challenge with seeking distraction instead of doing things I know I would be happier doing.

That said, I think John Lennon was right:

“Whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

If I were severely addicted to alcohol, for example, and found that I could control the urge to drink by binge-watching shows, then by all means, binge away.

The key is to replace something that is not serving you well with something that serves you better. Then keep doing this until you find the right balance for the kind of life you want.

For example, the story of my grandfather giving up cigarettes in favor of little mint candies.

Candy is not great for you. It has zero nutritional value and can rot your teeth. But as a trade-off, it is way better than cigarettes… probably. At least it was for him.

I think the same thing can be said for our Yeahs.

Sometimes we say Yeah to something that doesn’t end up serving us well.

But does that mean we shouldn’t have said Yeah in the first place?

I don’t think that is true in every case.

It depends.

And I want to dig into that question more.

The second thing I want to clear up is that even though I often find YouTube deteriorating in quality, annoying, and frustrating, I also find value in it.

This is similar to the “Dude voice” I wrote about in yesterday’s post.

Sometimes it is worth watching.

Sometimes it is worth listening.

Case in point…

The other day, I watched a pretty good YouTube video by a guy Lee brought to my attention. His name is Ronnie Christian and his channel is called A Resilient Life.

Ronnie is in his upper 60’s, retired, and seems to be loving his life. His channel appears to be about helping younger people benefit from what he has experienced and learned during his journey to financial independence and retirement.

Anyway, the video was about eight purchases retirees regret making.

He mentioned things like buying a larger house than they need, purchasing a timeshare, providing too much financial assistance to children and family members at the expense of their retirement portfolio, and recreational vehicles of all sorts—campers, boats, four-wheelers, and the like.

For this last category, recreational vehicles, he gave a great example of the relationship between what I am referring to as our Yeahs and our regrets.

He said he owns a boat.

He has had it for 15 years, it is completely paid off, and because they live near the water in the Florida Panhandle, it has been a genuine source of enjoyment and pleasure for them.

But here is the important part:

He said he will never buy another one.

According to Ronnie, the old saying about boat ownership is true:

B.O.A.T. stands for “Break Out Another Thousand.”

The relationship between our Yeahs and our regrets is a rich topic, and I want to come back to it tomorrow and perhaps the following day.

There are two follow-up topics I definitely want to cover.

First, I will outline some purchases I have made that were Yeahs—or that I thought were Yeahs at the time—but later became regrets.

What did I learn?

And what would I do differently now?

Second, I want to share an exercise I completed during the pandemic.

The exercise was designed to help uncover core values and identify the goals that mattered most to me.

The prompt was simple:

What 10 things will I regret NOT doing in the next 10–20 years?

I will share what I learned, what I actually did during the five or six years that followed, and whether I would approach any of it differently today.

Perhaps you want to spend a little time with those questions yourself.

Tomorrow, or the next day, I will share how I approached the exercise so you have an example to work from.