It’s 2:04 a.m., and I’m still at the office, sitting in front of my computer. I’ve been going to bed early for months, but tonight I broke that habit. I know I need sleep, but my mind won’t stop working. In fact, I wanted to keep getting things done so badly that I left work at eight and came back at ten. Yes… I know I’m weird. As I finish a few things I had on my to-do list, my mind keeps wandering.
Anyway… I’m going home, and I’ll continue writing there…
(…)
I’m home now.
This isn’t an article like any other. And I promise I’m not drunk, nor have I taken any substances. I’m simply letting my thoughts flow.
Maybe I’ll publish this, because some time ago I promised myself I would share what I feel. Tonight I’ve been thinking about that idea of the perfect life we chase. About how we believe that once we get a certain job, earn a certain amount of money, or reach a certain position, we’ll finally be happy. And yet, many times, we achieve things we once wished for and still feel like something is missing.
I’ve also been thinking about work. About how we can spend years following schedules, waiting for Friday, a vacation, or a day off. Sometimes I feel like we’re rats running on a wheel. We stay busy and tired, and we don’t always stop to think about where we’re going.
As an interesting fact, did you know that the expression “rat race” was already being used in the United States in the 1930s? The psychoanalyst Erich Fromm reflected on a related idea: the risk of spending our lives trying to have more—more money, possessions, or status—while neglecting the experience of being: loving, sharing, and taking part in meaningful activities. I loved his book, To Have or To Be?
Psychologists Philip Brickman and Donald Campbell also proposed the idea of the “hedonic treadmill” in 1971. It describes how people can become accustomed to improvements in their lives, so that the initial satisfaction of an achievement fades over time. It’s related to the idea of always chasing the next goal, although it doesn’t mean that everyone inevitably returns to the same level of happiness.
I’m not saying that work is bad. I like to work. I like having projects, imagining possibilities, and putting effort into something. But I wonder at what point work stops being a part of our lives and starts becoming our entire life.
What happens to our families while we’re busy? What about the friends we tell, “We have to get together,” only to let months go by? What about the people we miss but don’t reach out to because of pride, fear, or because we think there will always be time?
Sometimes missing someone doesn’t mean we should go back into their life. Some relationships ended for a reason, and some distances are better respected. Sometimes we work to fill that emptiness. But there are also people we could call, hug, or simply ask how they’re doing. People who are still there, even though we act as if they always will be. And the truth is, we don’t know how much time we have with them. We don’t know how much time we have ourselves, either.
Thinking about that makes me wonder whether I’m enjoying my life or if I’m too focused on building the one I want for the future. Because I have dreams—many of them—and I want to work toward them. But I don’t want to achieve them one day and discover that, in the meantime, I let my life pass me by.
I want to learn to enjoy what I have now: a conversation, a meal with someone I love, a quiet afternoon, or even a moment like this one, sitting at home, writing down what’s going through my mind at two in the morning.
I don’t have a perfect conclusion. I suppose I don’t need one. Maybe I just needed to remind myself that it’s okay to be ambitious, but it’s also okay to stop, look around, and live a little before our lives come to an end.
Anyway… now I’m finally going to sleep.
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