Advice From My Grandmother That Will Change Your Life

She had cancer, survived, and became a different person.

My grandmother (father’s mother) is one of my most favorite people in the world. She gave me essential advice that changed the way I view life at 22.

But first, let me give you some context about her.

She became a grandmother when she was only 42. She gave birth to my father when she was 21 in Moscow, Russia. In turn, my father went on to repeat the feat and had me when he was just 21 — that’s a year younger than I am now, writing this.

But she was a shitty grandmother. And she knows it.

She didn’t bring us (my sister and I) presents. She didn’t spend time with us. She was busy building her life, saving her (second) marriage, and launching a business. She was also very irritable (especially with kids) and smoked like a chimney.

In Russian, there are two forms of ‘you’ — a formal vy- and friendly ty-.

You usually call your friend and relatives by ty- and use vy- for talking with teachers, older people, or someone you want to keep a social distance with.

I called my grandmother by vy until I turned 15.

But when five years ago she had cancer, survived, and became a completely different person.

In just over a year, my grandmother quit smoking — a life-long habit from her twenties — , turned vegan, stopped being negative, and became a devout Christian.

It’s always amazing how people can become completely different versions of themselves when a sudden external event causes a perspective shift.

Looking back, I see that I never blamed her for being a bad grandmother.

She wasn’t ready to be a grandmother at 42 — nobody is. She wanted to keep living her life, not be playing the role of a grandmother who bakes cookies and spends her weekdays watching telly.

And after her sudden transition, my grandmother and I became very close.

When we discussed her story with her, she told me it was as if her life-threatening experience with cancer told her, “Here’s your new chance. Now do everything right.”

Of course, she is still not perfect — nobody is. (My sister still can’t stand her.) But to this day, we meet once every month for lunch.

My grandmother listens to my stories, gives me life advice, and sincerely tries to help. I don’t always agree with her (her Soviet upbringing sometimes shines through), but I am happy to have someone I can pour my soul to.

At our last meeting — when I came to Moscow for a short while before going back to London — she gave me advice that made me think about speed.

“Why are you rushing so much?”

“What do you mean, grandma?”

“I mean, I don’t get it. Everyone is so fast. I used to be fast. But now I am 65, and I simply don’t get it. Go slow.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to get everything done?”

“You’ve got your whole life in front of you! You’re only 22.”

“Yeah, but I want things…Sometimes, I feel like I am not fast enough.”

“No, you’re too fast. You see, everyone gets a limited energy resource in their life. People are like loaded guns. And if you waste your potential early, you die early. You end up with no ammo. Just look at the many stories of geniuses who shined early in their career and then either committed suicide or went into obscurity.”

“I see.”

“Don’t waste your energy too quickly. Use it wisely.”

“I will, grandma.”

I thought of Kurt Kobein, Chester Bennington, Ernest Hemingway, and many others who had so much potential and shone so bright but died at the peak of their career.

I don’t want to be like them.

When you’re young and full of energy, it can often feel like you’re not going quickly enough. Thirty (or forty or fifty) can feel an eternity away as if it’s an age after which nothing matters anymore.

But when you turn 65 — like my grandmother — you gain perspective. (That’s why talking to older people is so essential.)

You see how ridiculous the worry of the young is.

You see how important it was to cherish those moments of youth, to be grateful for the life you’ve been given, instead of worrying about money, success, fame — all of those things that come later in life and that don’t matter as much.

And you learn that:

There’s no nobility in speed.

Eventually, everyone ends up in the same place.

You get a limited energy supply in your life. Use it wisely.