When I took Psych 101 freshman year, I always brought a 3-subject notebook to class. Within a few days, I realized there was no need for note-taking, since all the lecture material was on D2L. The only note I ever took in that notebook was a memorable line muttered by my foul-mouthed professor:

“You do a lot of disgusting shit by the time you’re 40.”

At the time, I wasn’t sure if this was true. Two years later, I’m only halfway to 40, but I stand behind my professor’s sentiment.

We’re all guilty of lying, cheating and half-assing, but the question is, do you regret this “disgusting” behavior?

Last week, I read in the New York Times that a bunch of Midwest researchers called up 370 ordinary middle-aged Americans and asked them this question:

“What’s your biggest regret?”

The results showed that most adults regretted romantic and educational opportunities gone to waste. Intrigued, I was compelled to get answers from our own age group. With that in mind, I asked a handful of my friends to make a list of their top three regrets. Not surprisingly, some opted out of the question, but most were open books, sparing no details about the things they wish they could take back.

Some wish they’d studied harder. Some spent too much money and saved too little. Some continue to beat themselves up for cheating on wonderful boyfriends. Some are haunted by rumors. A few regrets were concentrated in the basement of frat houses, obviously. Some simply wish they hadn’t consistently spread themselves too thin.

None, however, had any regrets pertaining to things they did not do.

Next, I decided to turn the tables and sift through my memories for some rocks of remorse I was sure I had.

My cursor flashed in the empty, bulleted word document as replays of my less-than-great decisions rolled behind my eyes. If I was making a list of mistakes, I would’ve been typing too furiously for that cursor to even be seen.

But regrets? That’s a different story.

To me, mistakes are like baby brothers making a mess of everything when they first enter our world. Sometimes they feel more like burdens than gifts, and it’s scarily tempting to wish for the tranquility you had before they barged in.

But give it some time, and your mistakes grow on you. Instead of blowing spit bubbles, they start making sense. All of a sudden, they’ve got a purpose. And craziest of all, you’re kind of fond of them.

I guess the key to that peace is trust. Trust that your mistakes will turn into something great. When a major or a relationship doesn’t feel right, get out of it. And once you’ve made up your mind, don’t leave any room for regret.

While you’re at it, picture your life without all its screw-up moments. Imagine having no incredible stories to tell at the dinner table. Imagine what a fool you’d be without all the lessons you’ve picked up with every stumble and misstep. What would you be worth if it wasn’t for your mistakes?

That study in the New York Times suggested we’ll all share the same regrets after we’ve had our “over the hill” birthdays.

I don’t think so.

Instead, I think we will begin to realize that our foolishness was wisdom in a cocoon. We’ll thank the skies we tested out “disgusting” behavior because the initial regret we experienced was reason enough to never do it again.

I think, instead of being a bunch of graying mopes with regrets of long-lost high school sweethearts and missed chances, we’ll be a brilliant generation who gathered every ounce of wisdom in the best way possible: by living.