CLEARing Regret
Using the CLEAR Method when you wish you could go back
The Scene
Marcus didn’t expect it to matter so much.
It wasn’t a blowout...just a moment.
They were talking after a long week, and his friend opened up about something he was considering doing.
Marcus didn’t agree.
He responded too quickly.
A little sharp.
He figured he was just being honest.
The conversation moved on, but something shifted.
Over the next few weeks, the texts slowed.
The calls stopped.
And now, months later, they don’t really talk at all.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It just faded.
And Marcus keeps thinking:
“I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“It probably made him feel judged.”
“I pushed him away.”
But the thought that won’t leave is:
“I should’ve handled that better.”
The Claim
This is the thought that Marcus keeps coming back to.
It sounds like a reasonable reflection.
But beneath it are several assumptions:
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That he could’ve responded perfectly, in real time
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That this single moment caused the entire fallout
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That his friend’s silence proves the damage was irreparable
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And that the friendship would still be intact...if only he’d done better
It feels like he’s just being honest.
But it’s not just honesty.
It’s blame.
Quiet, steady blame...disguised as maturity.
The Lie
The thought “I should’ve handled that better” seems wise, but it’s shaped by distorted thinking.
Let’s walk through what’s hiding inside it.
Should Statements
Marcus believes he should have said the right thing.
That he should have had the insight, calm, and awareness to handle the moment better...even while tired and distracted.
But if that were true, then every man would be expected to respond to every emotional moment with perfect grace, even when he doesn't know how important the moment is until it's already passed.
Reason asks: How were you supposed to know it mattered, if no one told you?
You don’t get to see what mattered until you’re looking backward.
You’re judging yourself with information you didn’t have at the time.
Personalization
Marcus is assuming that the friendship faded entirely because of him.
That one comment ended everything.
That the outcome was fully his to control.
But if that were true, then his friend had no agency, no chance to reach back out, no ability to say, “That bothered me,” or “Are we okay?”
Reason asks: If the friendship could fall apart from one imperfect moment, was it really strong to begin with?
Friendships are two-way.
If it ended silently, that silence belongs to both of them.
Catastrophizing
Marcus believes this was the critical moment...the one thing that undid it all.
But if that were true, then no friendship would survive missteps.
Every comment would be a test.
Every awkward moment a fracture.
But real friendships bend.
So Reason asks: Is this really the end? Or just a hard moment you’ve made absolute?
These distortions make Marcus feel like he failed.
But what they’re really showing is that he cares.
And care can be the start of something better...not proof that all is lost.
The Evidence
Marcus hasn’t stepped back far enough to see the whole picture.
Yes, his comment was a little sharp.
But it wasn’t cruel.
And it came after a long day.
He was worn down, not trying to wound.
His friend didn’t say, “That hurt me.”
He didn’t speak up.
He just faded out.
And the truth is: this wasn’t their first disagreement.
They’d had worse.
They’d gotten through things before.
There was no big betrayal...just a single, uncomfortable moment that maybe neither of them knew how to talk about.
What else is true?
Life gets busy. People drift.
Silence doesn’t always mean anger.
Sometimes it means distraction.
Or depression. Or uncertainty.
But it doesn’t always mean you failed.
Marcus didn’t choose to lose the friendship.
He just didn’t recognize a moment that needed more care.
And now that he does, he can still act.
The Alternative
The original thought was:
“I should’ve handled that better.”
A more Reasoned and empowering version might be:
“That moment didn’t go how I wanted, but I can learn from it, and I can still reach out.”
Or:
“I spoke too quickly. That doesn’t make me a failure. It means I’ve got more growing to do. And I’m doing it.”
He can’t erase the moment.
But he doesn’t need to.
He just needs to carry the lesson forward clearly, honestly, and with care.
The Role of Reason
Reason doesn’t say “It wasn’t a big deal.”
It says: It mattered, but it wasn’t final.
You don’t become a better man by obsessing over what went wrong.
You become one by deciding to live differently now.
Regret is a signal, not a sentence.
It tells you where to pay attention.
And if you listen, it leads you forward.
Regret shows up in many forms for men. So let’s walk through one more scenario, and apply the CLEAR method to find our way through it.
Another Face of Regret
Not all regret comes from what we said or did.
Sometimes, it comes from what we missed...what we weren’t there for.
The Scene
James didn’t think this time would be different.
His grandfather had been in the hospital before.
He always recovered.
So when James got the call, he didn’t drop everything.
His mom had said, “You might want to come.”
It didn’t sound urgent.
James was exhausted.
Work was packed.
He figured he’d go that weekend.
There would be time.
But there wasn’t.
His grandfather died two days later.
And now James keeps thinking:
“I should’ve gone.”
“He might’ve been waiting for me.”
“What if he died thinking I didn’t care?”
“Everyone else was there...but I wasn’t.”
But the thought that stays lodged in his chest is:
“I failed him.”
The Claim
James has grief.
But grief isn’t the problem.
The problem is what he’s telling himself about that grief.
He’s not just mourning the loss. He’s condemning himself over it.
Of all the thoughts circling in his mind, this is the one doing the damage:
“I failed him.”
That’s the belief shaping the weight he’s carrying.
And it’s the one that has to be challenged.
The Lie
The belief “I failed him” doesn’t come from clarity.
It comes from distortion.
Let’s break it down.
Should Statements
James believes he should have gone.
That he should have known this time would be different.
That he should have done the right thing...even though he didn’t know it was the last chance.
But if that were true, then every man would be expected to recognize the end before it arrives.
To read between the lines.
To act as if they knew what was coming...even when no one did.
Reason asks: Did anyone say, “This is it”?
They didn’t.
He made a decision based on what he knew.
That’s not failure.
That’s being human.
Personalization
James is acting like his absence changed everything.
That his grandfather’s final hours were defined by who wasn’t there.
But if that were true, then nothing else mattered: not the peace of the moment, not the family that was there, not the years of love before the end.
Reason says: Your absence is part of the story. It’s not the whole story.
You mattered.
But so did everything else.
Emotional Reasoning
James feels guilt, so he assumes he must have done something wrong.
But if that were true, then all guilty feelings would be proof of guilt.
And we know that’s not how emotions work.
Reason pushes back: Is this grief? Or is this judgment dressed up as love?
Just because you feel like a failure doesn’t mean you were one.
Guilt is not always a sign you failed.
Sometimes it’s just love with nowhere to go.
The Evidence
James hasn’t let himself look at the full picture.
But it’s there.
He had shown up...again and again...throughout his grandfather’s decline.
He visited often.
He helped.
He listened.
He made time when it was hard to.
His grandfather lit up when James entered the room.
Told the nurses about him.
Thanked him, out loud, for coming.
The day he passed, he wasn’t alone.
Other loved ones were there.
The room was calm.
There was no cry for James.
No unfinished conversation.
No urgent demand that went unanswered.
James missed a moment.
Not the relationship.
What he had with his grandfather wasn’t erased by absence.
It was built over time.
And it still matters.
The Alternative
The original thought was:
“I failed him.”
But a more honest, Reasoned alternative might be:
“I missed that moment, but I was there through so many others. And that still counts.”
Or:
“I can’t go back. But I can let this shape how I live, how I show up, and what I value now.”
Regret doesn’t mean he failed.
It means he’s awake now.
And that’s a gift.
The Role of Reason
Reason doesn’t dismiss regret.
It digs underneath it until it finds what’s true.
James can’t rewrite the ending.
But he can carry it forward in a new way.
He can let it teach him how to act now, while the people he loves are still here.
Not from fear.
Not from guilt.
But from wisdom.
That’s what regret is for.
Closing Reflection
Regret tells you that you blew it.
That it’s too late.
That you missed the one thing that mattered.
But Reason says: You’re still here.
The path didn’t vanish. It just changed.
You can’t go back and walk it differently...but you can walk differently now.
That’s not a small thing.
That’s everything.