Never Have I Had the Urge... To Feel Buyer's Remorse

What happens after the decision is made?

In this Season 1 Finale of Never Have I Had the Urge, I reflect on the moments that come after we say yes—the purchases, the risks, the relationships, and the choices that can leave us questioning everything.

From everyday experiences like a bad haircut or buying something that didn’t live up to expectations… to life-changing decisions involving marriage, risk, and personal growth… this episode explores the quiet, often unspoken feeling of buyer’s remorse.

But is it really about regret?

Or is it about understanding the difference between what we thought we wanted… and what we actually needed?

Through personal reflection, relatable scenarios, and powerful “what if” moments inspired by previous episodes, this season finale brings everything full circle—shifting the focus from the urge itself… to the reality that follows.

Because sometimes the most important question isn’t:
“Should I do this?”

It’s:
“What comes after I do?”

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

And just like that, we're here. The season one finale of episodes. And if I'm being honest with you, I didn't know if I'd make it this far. Because when this started, I had nothing. No background in journalism. No background in podcasting. No experience behind a microphone. No real understanding of how any of this worked. Social media? I was a novice at best. I still am in a lot of ways. This wasn't something I had mastered. This was something I stepped into. And there were moments, real moments, where I didn't want to do it. I didn't feel like recording, didn't feel like editing, didn't feel like showing up at all. Moments where walking away would have been easier. But I didn't. And somewhere between episode 1 and right now, episode 12, something shifted. Not everything, but just enough. Enough to keep me going. Enough to sit down, press record, and trust that something would come out of it. This first season was never about getting it right. It was about not quitting, about showing up, even when I wasn't sure why I started it in the first place. And maybe that's the question, isn't it? Because how many times in life do we start something only to wonder later, why did I do that? A decision, a purchase, a moment, something that felt right at the time, but doesn't sit the same afterward. That feeling when clarity shows up late, when the excitement fades, and you're left sitting with the choice you made. That feeling has a name, Buyer's Remorse. And if I'm being real with you, there were moments during this journey where I almost felt it here too. Not as someone who has it all figured out, but as someone who started, stayed with it, and is still here. And if season one was about taking that first step, then season two, that's where we start walking with purpose. Hey everyone, my name is Victor, and this is Never Have I Had the Urge to Feel Buyer's Remorse. You know, buyer's remorse is a funny thing because most of the time it doesn't show up before the decision. It shows up after, after the papers are signed, after the keys are handed over, after a ring is brought, after the words I do are said, and after the jump is made. It waits until the noise dies down, until the cheering stop, until the lights come back on, until the crowd goes quiet and goes home, until you're sitting there alone with the thing you wanted, and suddenly wondering, did I really want this? Did I really need this? That's the strange thing about an urge. In the moment, it can feel like clarity, it can feel like courage, like love, like fate, adventure, like justice or curiosity. But sometimes, once the moment passes, once the dust settles, and once the smoke clears, once the receipt is in your hand and the return window starts closing, what looks like desire starts to feel a whole lot like debt. And not always the kind you pay with money. Sometimes you pay with time, sometimes with peace, sometimes with trust, sometimes with your name, and even a lot of times with your heart. Sometimes with the version of yourself you thought you were becoming, and maybe that's what this first season of Never Have I Had the Urge has really been circling all along. Not just the urges I've never had, but the question that comes after every urge someone does answer. Was it worth it? Because some choices come with the price tag, others come with consequences, and some actually come with both. And if I'm being honest, this wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Not the mic, not the editing, not the late nights trying to figure out how all this even works, not the idea of putting my voice, my thoughts out into the world. I never had the urge to start a podcast. I've never had the urge to become a content creator. I didn't wake up one day thinking, this is what I want to do. And yet, here I am. A few months in, still figuring it out, still learning, still building something I didn't even know how to start not too long ago. And there are moments, quiet moments, where that crushed question starts to creep in. What's next? Not in a loud way, not in a regretful way, but in that subtle, almost uncertain way. The kind of question that doesn't shake you, but sits with you. Because once you start something, once you put something into motion, you don't always know where it's going to lead. And that's where it would be easy to let something like buyer's remorse settle in. To start second-guessing the time, the effort, the energy, to wonder if it was worth starting at all. But every time that thought shows up, I find myself doing something different. I look back, not too far, just enough to see clearly. Four months ago, I didn't know any of this, didn't know how to record, didn't know how to edit, didn't know how to structure an episode, didn't know how to put something out there and let it be heard. And now I do. Not perfectly, not completely, but enough to keep going. And maybe that's the difference. Maybe buyer's remorse doesn't always come from making the wrong choice. Maybe it comes from forgetting why we made the choice in the first place. Because when I stop and really look at it, this doesn't feel like something I regret. It feels like something I'm still growing into. And as long as I can see that, as long as I can recognize the progress before the doubt gets too loud, before the questions start to take over, then maybe buyer's remorse never really gets a chance to settle in. There's a moment, it doesn't matter what the decision is, there's always a moment right before it becomes real. Not when you're thinking about it, not when you're talking about it, not when you're imagining how it might feel. But that exact second when the thought turns into action, when the pen touches the paper, when the card gets swiped, when the words leave your mouth, when the decision can't be taken back. That moment doesn't usually feel like doubt. It feels like certainty. It feels like you've figured something out, like you've arrived at the answer, like all the thinking, all the back and forth finally led somewhere. And sometimes it even feels like relief. Because the question is gone, the waiting is over, you don't have to wonder anymore. You chose. But what we don't always talk about is how quickly that feeling can change. Because once the decision is made, once there's no more what if, a different kind of awareness starts to set in. You start to see things you didn't see before. You start to notice details that didn't matter a moment ago. You start to feel the weight of something that just seconds earlier felt light. And it doesn't always hit all at once. Sometimes it's subtle. A thought that lingers a little longer than it should, a feeling that doesn't quite match the moment, a question that shows up after the answer, the answer was already given. Did I rush that? Did I think this through? Did I see everything I needed to see? And now you're no longer standing at the edge of decision, you're standing inside of it, living with it, looking at it from the other side. And that's where something shifts. Because before that moment, you were in control of the choice. After that moment, the choice starts to control you, it starts to influence what comes next. It starts to carry consequences you can't always predict. It starts to define a path that didn't exist before you took that step. And maybe that's why that moment feels so powerful. Not because of what you gain, but because of what you give up. You give up the option to go back, you give up the comfort of uncertainty, you give up the space where everything was still possible, and in exchange, you get reality, you get something real, something solid, something that now exists because you said yes to it. But reality doesn't always feel the way imagination does. Before anything becomes a decision, it usually starts as a feeling, an urge, something you notice, something that catches your attention, something that little by little starts to grow. And the more you look at it, the more it makes sense. You begin to justify it, you begin to picture it, you begin to build a version of it in your mind that just feels right. And what started as a simple thought or an urge turns into something that feels necessary. I need this. This makes sense, this is the next step. But most of the time, that feeling isn't coming from a place of clarity, it's coming from influence, from what we see, from what we hear, from what we're told something is supposed to mean. A car isn't just a car, it's status, it's success, it's a reflection of how far you come. A house isn't just a place to live, it's stability, it's security, it's the idea that you finally made it somewhere. An engagement ring isn't just a ring, it's a promise, it's expectation, it's a moment that's supposed to feel a certain way, look a certain way, be remembered a certain way. And when you combine all of that with emotion, with timing, with pressure, with opportunity, it becomes really easy to mistake desire for direction. Because now it's not just about wanting something, it feels like you're supposed to want it, like this is what comes next, like this is what people do, like this is what makes sense, and once that idea takes hold, once it settles in, you don't always question it, you move with it, you follow it, you act on it. Not because you slowed down and really asked yourself if it was right, but because everything around you made it feel right, and that's where it gets tricky. Because when the want is built on something external, something influenced, something shaped by expectations, it can feel solid in the moment. But later, when the moment passes, when the emotion fades, when you're left with the reality of what you chose, that same feeling can start to shift. And what once felt like certainty can start to feel like something else entirely. Because sometimes we don't regret the thing itself, we regret the reason we wanted it. And when you realize that, when you see the difference between what you truly wanted and what you thought you were supposed to get, that's when the weight of the choice starts to show up. Not all at once, but enough to make you stop and think, was that really mine? Or was it something I picked up along the way without ever questioning it where it came from? And if you've never asked that question, if you if you never take the that moment to separate the two, then that feeling, that subtle shift, has a way of growing quietly, steadily, until one day, you're not just questioning the decision, you're questioning yourself. And that's a different kind of weight to carry because that's not just about what you chose, it's about why you chose it. And when those two things don't line up, that's when the feeling starts to settle in. The one that doesn't always announce itself right away, but shows up later when everything else gets quiet. And sometimes it's not the big decisions that hit the hardest, it's the small ones, the everyday ones, the ones that don't seem like they should matter much until they do. Have you ever walked into a barbershop or a hair salon, sat down in that chair, and asked for something new, a style you saw on someone else, a look that seemed to fit just right, a fade, a bob, something clean, something sharp, something that like good on everybody else. And then they turn the chair around. You look in the mirror, and for a second, you don't even recognize yourself, and the only thing running through your mind is oh MG, what did I just do? I know I have. Have you ever gone out and brought something new? An outfit, a pair of shoes, something that looked perfect on the on the rack or on a mannequin, or even better on someone else. You saw it, you pictured it, you convinced yourself, yeah, that's me, gotta have it. And then you get home, try it on. Stand there for a second and realize it doesn't look the same, doesn't feel the same, doesn't fit the way you thought it would. That's buyer's remorse. Have you ever said said yes to passion in the moment, in the heat of the moment, because it felt right? Because the energy and the chemistry was there, the timing was there, the opportunity was right in front of you, and then later, when everything slowed down, you started to replay it over and over again, wondering if you move too fast, if you miss something, if you should have just waited a little longer. That's buyer's remorse. Those moments, they don't come with contracts, they don't come with paperwork, they don't come with long-term commitments, but they still carry something real, because even in those small decisions, there's still a version of expectation, a version of yourself you thought you were stepping into, and when that version doesn't match reality, even in something as simple as a haircut or a shirt or a quick decision you made without thinking twice, that feeling shows up. Buyers remorse, quick, honest, unfiltered, and maybe that's why those moments matter, because they're small enough to recover from, but real enough to recognize. They remind you that it doesn't take a life-changing decision to feel that shift, the second of doubt, that quiet pause, that look in the mirror where everything becomes clear, not in a dramatic way, not in a life-altering way, but in a way that makes you stop and say to yourself, Yeah, I felt that. That the feeling doesn't care about the size of the decision, it only cares about the difference between what you expected and what actually showed up. And when you start to recognize that feeling, not just in the big moments, but in the small ones too, you begin to see something else. That it's not just about what we choose, it's about what could have happened if we chose differently. Because every urge, every decision, every path we step into has another version sitting right next to it, the one we didn't take, the one we don't always think about until later. And that's where those what if startups start to show up. Not as regrets, but as reflections. Because think about it. Have you ever said yes to something big, something life-changing, and then later found yourself wondering what it would have looked like if you said no? Or on the on the other hand, have you ever walked away from something only to question if that was the moment you were supposed to lean into it, to stick and stay, to work it out? That's where this season starts to come back in focus, not as stories, but as choices, because each one carried a moment where things could have gone differently. Marriage? Have you ever rushed into something caught up in the moment, the excitement, the emotion? Only to wake up and feel the weight of what that decision actually means. Not just the moment, but everything that comes after it. And that's where buyer's remorse begins. Or taking that leap. Standing at the edge of something unknown, heart racing, adrenaline high, everyone watching. Have you ever jumped into something without fully knowing what was waiting on the other side? And halfway through it felt that shift, that moment where excitement turns into realization. That's where buyer's remorse begins. What about chasing something that didn't belong to you? Something that looked easy, looked worth it? Have you ever taken something figuratively or literally, thinking it would feel one way, only to realize it didn't feel right at all? And that's where buyer's remorse begins. Or staying when you should have left, riding something out, thinking you can handle it. Have you ever held on to something longer than you should have, and somewhere along the way realize you weren't in control of it anymore? Or digging, looking for answers, looking for something deeper, snooping, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and finding more than you were ready for. Something you couldn't unsee or unknow. And that's where bias remorse begins. Or finding yourself in a situation where all eyes are suddenly on you because of one decision, one moment, one choice. Have you ever made a move like that that changed how everything and everyone looked at you? Even chasing things we fully don't understand, curiosity pulling us forward. Have you ever followed a thought, a belief, an idea so far? Have you ever allowed someone to talk you into saying or doing something you regretted afterwards? Something that you didn't realize how far you had gone. On until you try to come back, and that's where that buyer's remorse begins. And maybe that's what all of this really comes down to, not just the decisions themselves, but the awareness that comes after. Because those moments, those what ifs, they don't exist till you pull backwards. They exist to show you something, to give you perspective, to remind you that every choice carries more than just the moment you made it in. It carries everything that comes after. And once you see that clearly, once you really understand it, you start to move differently. Not slower, not fearful, but aware. Because now you're not just thinking about what you want, you're thinking about what it leads to. And that awareness might be the one thing that keeps that feeling from ever fully settling in. And maybe, just maybe, that's what all of this has really been about. Not just the urges we never had, but the understanding of what happens when we act on some of them. Because every decision, big or small, carries something with it. Not just the outcome, but the awareness that follows. And if you've been here from the beginning, if you walk through these moments, these stories, these reflections, then maybe you've started to notice it too. That's that it's not about avoiding every mistake, it's not about getting every decision right. It's about recognizing the moment for what it is before it becomes something you have to live with. Because buyer's remorse isn't always loud, it doesn't always show up with regret, sometimes just a quiet realization, a shift, a moment where you see something clearly that you didn't see before. And if you can catch it there, if you can sit with it, learn from it, understand it, then maybe it doesn't have to become something that holds you back. Maybe it becomes something that moves you forward. Because at the end of the day, there was never just about the things I didn't do. It was about understanding the weight of the things we chose to do, the paths we step into, the moments we say yes to, the decisions we make when everything feels right, the awareness that comes when we realize what those decisions really meant. And if there's one thing I've learned through all of this, it's that the goal isn't to live without ever questioning a decision. The goal is to live in a way where those questions don't stop you from continuing forward. Because growth doesn't come from getting everything right, it comes from understanding what you got wrong and choosing to keep going anyway. And remember, behind every want lies an urge. Behind every urge, there's a need. Until next time, thank you for joining me on Never Have I Had the Urge. I'm your host, Victor Jimenez. Have you got any never have I had the urge show ideas of your own? Share them with me. I'd love to hear. Send them to hello at never have I had the urge.com. Thank you.