Maybe it’s just my relative youth, but it has occurred to me that I don’t actually think that I have any regrets.
I mean: in some ways, it would have been nice to transition before puberty, but can I honestly say that doing so in High School would have been preferable? Probably not.
I might also think that the graduate program I chose was perhaps not the best fit for me. But if I had gone elsewhere, then I would never have met all manner of amazing people, so I don’t regret that either.
Likewise, I might not have chosen sciences over humanities in the first place, if I had known that (contrary to what I had spent my life being told) a STEM degree would not, in fact, guarantee me decent employment. But I can’t truthfully say that I’m sorry to know so much more about how the Universe works at its most fundamental level than I otherwise would.
But more generally than any of these specific examples would suggest, I think that the main reason that I can avoid regret is that I consider trying to understand the world to be my mission in life. And since fear, pain, isolation, boredom, suffering, failure, anxiety, anger, and despair are just as much a part of the world as are happiness, contentment, interest, ecstasy, friendship, excitement and triumph, even the bad parts of my life can bring can bring me closer to that goal.
They also make me a better writer.