By Scott Reddoch
We each get 86,400 seconds per day. The same amount goes to the prince and the pauper. The human life is extremely short. Empires have spent fortunes searching for the fountain of youth. Science and medicine look for ways to extend our lives. But even still, we get about 4,000 weeks.
Nobody makes it out alive.
So once we accept the reality of this, we can start really looking at how we spend our time. We have a lot less than many think.
When I heard I didn’t have much left, I reflected on how I spent mine. Turns out I feel like I mostly wasted my years.
Here was my plan: Spend about 17 years in school, work 40, and hope that I have 15 years left in me for retirement. Of course retirement has become increasingly fleeting to many Americans.
When we do get to retire, many don’t have money or have neglected our health during the “working” years, or both.
We spend most of our lives trading time, and sometimes that trade is not always kind.
I missed a lot of friend and family events working. The joke around the office was if you didn’t work Saturday don’t even think about working Sunday. If I was invited to your kid’s birthday party, I probably have to work. Same thing for your aunt’s funeral.
I remember skipping my own birthday celebration to go to the office. For my 37th birthday some friends had planned a dinner at this popular Mexican restaurant. They were going whether or not I attended. I don’t remember what I was working on. I said that I would go if I had time.
Before the strokes, I was eating at Brighston’s. I love that place. There was a young family next to me. Mom, dad and two kids—a boy and a girl, they were about five. The kids had their mom really frazzled. The dad seemed oblivious to his family and was taking work calls through the entire dinner. I am sure they matter to him, but not then.
I was thinking “wrong choice buddy.” He just kept blabbing on the phone.
Later, I had been in the hospital about a month when I really started thinking about how I treated time. I thought about the family in that restaurant. I would never be so rude to my loved ones. I worked a lot but I tried to be a good person. I looked like everything was fine but was I the dad in that restaurant? Had I been making the wrong choice?
I wasn’t on my phone through dinner but I was letting work dictate if I could even go to dinner. I missed so much.
I’m not able to kiss my girlfriend anymore. I can’t embrace my family. Walking, talking, laughing—we take it for granted. Most people don’t think “this is my last step” or “I will never laugh again.” The last thing that I thought about in the hospital was what was happening at work.
Sure I had wasted a lot of moments with work. I was chasing money and status and at the time didn’t see the problem. But that wasn’t quite it. That’s just the PC answer that is widely accepted. I wasn’t really chasing anything. I was running from something.
I was running from myself.
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