The Quiet Yearning to Start Over
A friend once told me, from a rooftop in Bangkok with the city’s relentless traffic humming eight floors below, that she sometimes imagines boarding a plane and simply never returning. What followed surprised me: she actually apologised. She apologised for having an inner life, for entertaining the thought of escape. This reaction—the reflex to excuse oneself for dreaming—reveals more about our collective mindset than the daydream itself.
Such thoughts are far from rare. They’ve surfaced in conversations with a lawyer in London, a nurse in Manila, and a man in a Sydney pub who had played by the rules for three decades yet felt unfulfilled. What stood out universally was the quick dismissal afterward—the insistence that these musings were silly, that they were fortunate, that others faced “real” problems. This common flinch hints at a broader psychological tension between who we are, who we want to be, and who others expect us to be.
Understanding the Self: Actual, Ideal, and Ought
Psychologists often describe the self in three parts: the actual self—our current identity and beliefs about who we are; the ideal self—our dreams, hopes, and aspirational versions of ourselves; and the ought self—the person we believe we should be, shaped by duties, obligations, and societal expectations.
Most people excel at living up to the ought self. It comes with a clear instruction manual: be reliable, pay the bills, call your mother on Sundays, don’t jeopardise relationships over fleeting moods. The rules are explicit and the consequences immediate.
In contrast, the ideal self offers no checklist or timeline. It whispers, “Be brave. Be interesting. Take the chance.” But since no one else is checking in on it, it often waits patiently in the wings while urgent, external responsibilities take center stage. For many, the ideal self’s desires are perpetually postponed, sometimes indefinitely.
Regrets That Last a Lifetime
Research by Shai Davidai and Thomas Gilovich, published in a study involving six different experiments (source), reveals a striking insight: the regrets that linger the longest are those related to failing our ideal selves rather than our ought selves.
Why? Because failures related to the ought self—like missing a deadline or letting someone down—can be remedied through apologies, reparations, or changed behaviors. These regrets fade with time, like potholes behind us on a road. In contrast, failures of the ideal self often have no clear resolution. There’s no one to apologize to, no wrong to right. They remain, stubbornly etched in our mind’s windshield, visible on every journey forward.
So when you find yourself lying awake at 2 a.m., revisiting the life not lived, it isn’t a weakness but rather your ideal self’s alarm system ringing loud and clear.
Why a “Good Life” Can Still Feel Hollow
Studies by psychologists Kennon Sheldon and Andrew Elliot have shown (source) that the goals we pursue for ourselves—those aligned with our personal values—fuel greater effort and lead to higher wellbeing upon achievement. Conversely, goals taken on out of obligation, guilt, or fear rarely bring satisfaction.
This explains the paradox of “success” that feels empty. The promotion comes, the accolades follow, yet late at night, standing alone in the kitchen, you wonder why the joy feels muted. The truth is, you’ve cashed a paycheck made out to someone else’s version of success.
The Pitfall of Beautiful Daydreams
However, fantasising alone is not the solution. Gabriele Oettingen’s extensive research (source) reveals that vividly imagining a wonderful future can actually sap the energy needed to achieve it. When the brain receives a taste of the reward in advance, it relaxes rather than mobilizes, reducing motivation.
This explains why daydreams can quietly replace action. The warm glow on a Tuesday night lowers pressure, and suddenly another year slips by without change.
Oettingen advises a simple remedy: picture the desired outcome clearly, then identify a specific internal obstacle you can address—for example, “I am afraid of what my brother will say”—rather than vague external factors like “the economy.” This honest confrontation is a powerful first step toward change.
What Evidence Says About Taking the Leap
Economist Steven Levitt conducted an intriguing experiment, asking over twenty thousand people stuck on major life decisions to flip a coin to settle their dilemma (source). Six months later, those whose coin toss prompted a change reported higher levels of happiness than those advised to stay put.
This study, while insightful, had limits: participants were already ambivalent, and happiness was self-reported. Levitt himself cautions against taking a coin toss as a life guide. Still, the findings suggest that when it comes to big decisions, humans tend to be overly cautious, often to their detriment.
Starting Ridiculously Small
Starting over rarely looks like a dramatic airport scene. More often, it begins quietly—like a Saturday morning hour spent on a secret wish.
Begin by writing down your wish in one sentence, in your own handwriting, with no audience. Identify one internal obstacle honestly. Then create the smallest possible test you can run within your current life—something manageable without quitting your job, moving cities, or announcing plans. Maybe it’s a class, or writing two hundred words before work.
The goal is information. Does this spark hold up outside your imagination? Some aspirations die at first touch, which is a kindness; others grow louder, demanding attention.
My friend never took that plane. Instead, she enrolled in a course she had pondered for years—and now, she can’t stop talking about it. Most who start over do so quietly, one small step at a time.
Source: Here
