Is Life Too Short to Be Unhappy or Is It Too Long to Be Miserable?

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Abstract

nother area where people suffer for decades. I’m forever impressed with people who give time the middle finger and do a complete career transition later in life.As a teen, I let my insecurities and overbearing parents steer my university education away from my goals. Back then, I was fascinated with biotechnology and all the weird shit we could do with it. Could I make a chicken with lips? Could I then make the best, long-lasting lipstick on those lips? Fuck yeah, I could.Instead, I went down a path that is of zero interest to me (software development). My résumé shows a solid career path. Right now my job is suicidally boring but it pays me well for the very little work that I do and it allows me the freedom I need with my kids. A big name company keeps trying to poach me for a position that I would love but the responsibility and extra bandwidth of a new role isn’t something I can take on at this point in life.And so, here I am, riding out at least five more years until my kids are self-sufficient and I can stop stabbing my eyeballs every day at my job. That seems like such a long time to continue suffering in career misery but the trade off is worth it.I have a friend with one child, she’s torn between her career and a second child. She knows with her eggs’ expiration date, it’s now or never. She’s stuck like many of us working women are: does she focus on her career because that’s what fuels her passion or does she focus on her family which is the meaning of life? She’s learned the hard truth that unless you’re Marissa Mayer with a nursery built next to your office, women choose between children and careers. For my friend, choosing another child means sacrificing career satisfaction for what feels like an eternity.<h2 id="1cd7">Time flies when you’re having fun</h2>My takeaway from this pandemic is that time is a construct. Way back in the olden days (March 2020), staying at home for a few months seemed simple. Anne Frank spent over 2 years in a cramped hidden bunker, we could live without Costco food samples for a while, right? As we approach month 8, I’ve learned that when you’re miserable, time moves so much slower.</p

Options

When everything opens up, will we see a shift in people pursuing interests and hobbies they otherwise pushed aside? Will more people travel because they realized “we can always go on that trip next summer” isn’t a guarantee? Will family members make more efforts to see each other to make up for lost time? I suspect self-indulgence will skyrocket when this pandemic ends (for fuck’s sake, when will it end?!).Coronavirus has taught us that tomorrow is not promised. Even when you’re still alive.If you’re grappling with ending your marriage, hats off to you my friend. You’re being asked to gamble on both more time of misery as well as giving up the short window of happiness you have left. It’s daunting and scary. Time is the only thing that no amount of money or resources can ever bring back.When time is spent unhappy, it takes parts of your soul along with it. That’s why I can’t spend years longer working on my marriage. Whether it’s going by too slow or too fast, I need whatever I have left to be happy.<div id="4a1b" class="link-block">

      <a href="https://readmedium.com/are-you-alone-yet-married-3c222e20061c">

        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>Are You Alone, Yet Married?</h2>
            <div><h3>Feeling single and alone in a marriage.</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*FXmU-klCI03GjWod)"></div>
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    </div><div id="0ee3" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://readmedium.com/dead-bedrooms-are-about-more-than-just-sex-f8f71ddbb78c">
        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>Dead Bedrooms Are About More Than Just Sex</h2>
            <div><h3>I should know. I’m in one.</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*Dky33kYI4ryfZ4Tp)"></div>
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Which one is it?

When are we allowed to start our real life? (Photo by JESHOOTS.COM on Unsplash)

I’m in prime midlife crisis mode. I’m leaving my husband, recovering from my billionth cosmetic surgery procedure (one more punch on the card and I get a free smoothie), and I’m contemplating the second half of my life before death.

I’m in a quandary trying to wrap my head around justifying why I want to finally get a divorce instead of trying to fix the marriage for the sake of my kids. On one hand, I’ve spent so long being unhappy. I have only a few short years before my body and brain start biodegrading (once menopause hits, it’ll be downhill from there). I don’t have a lifetime ahead of me to make mistakes anymore. I don’t have time to “wait and see". I have barely any time left with my youth and mental capacity.

Yet, on the other hand, it’s also that waiting even longer feels like forever. Wait another five years to see if my marriage will work? I’ll be 48. Forty eight years before I can finally live the path that I want to choose for myself? Waiting any more time is a fucking eternity.

I’m at the apex of some weird time shift. Everything is going by too fast and too slow all at once.

And yet, when it comes to blowing up your family, one should wait forever and act as slow as possible. The guilt is horrific. I should theoretically be able to wait ten more years until my kids are adults, right? Ten years is a long time. It’s all I have left so I might as well take a blowtorch to my youth, energy, original kneecaps, and sense of adventure. If I don’t take the plunge now, then there’s no point in doing it later.

Career choices

Time and misery aren’t exclusive to relationships. Jobs are another area where people suffer for decades. I’m forever impressed with people who give time the middle finger and do a complete career transition later in life.

As a teen, I let my insecurities and overbearing parents steer my university education away from my goals. Back then, I was fascinated with biotechnology and all the weird shit we could do with it. Could I make a chicken with lips? Could I then make the best, long-lasting lipstick on those lips? Fuck yeah, I could.

Instead, I went down a path that is of zero interest to me (software development). My résumé shows a solid career path. Right now my job is suicidally boring but it pays me well for the very little work that I do and it allows me the freedom I need with my kids. A big name company keeps trying to poach me for a position that I would love but the responsibility and extra bandwidth of a new role isn’t something I can take on at this point in life.

And so, here I am, riding out at least five more years until my kids are self-sufficient and I can stop stabbing my eyeballs every day at my job. That seems like such a long time to continue suffering in career misery but the trade off is worth it.

I have a friend with one child, she’s torn between her career and a second child. She knows with her eggs’ expiration date, it’s now or never. She’s stuck like many of us working women are: does she focus on her career because that’s what fuels her passion or does she focus on her family which is the meaning of life? She’s learned the hard truth that unless you’re Marissa Mayer with a nursery built next to your office, women choose between children and careers. For my friend, choosing another child means sacrificing career satisfaction for what feels like an eternity.

Time flies when you’re having fun

My takeaway from this pandemic is that time is a construct. Way back in the olden days (March 2020), staying at home for a few months seemed simple. Anne Frank spent over 2 years in a cramped hidden bunker, we could live without Costco food samples for a while, right? As we approach month 8, I’ve learned that when you’re miserable, time moves so much slower.

When everything opens up, will we see a shift in people pursuing interests and hobbies they otherwise pushed aside? Will more people travel because they realized “we can always go on that trip next summer” isn’t a guarantee? Will family members make more efforts to see each other to make up for lost time? I suspect self-indulgence will skyrocket when this pandemic ends (for fuck’s sake, when will it end?!).

Coronavirus has taught us that tomorrow is not promised. Even when you’re still alive.

If you’re grappling with ending your marriage, hats off to you my friend. You’re being asked to gamble on both more time of misery as well as giving up the short window of happiness you have left. It’s daunting and scary. Time is the only thing that no amount of money or resources can ever bring back.

When time is spent unhappy, it takes parts of your soul along with it. That’s why I can’t spend years longer working on my marriage. Whether it’s going by too slow or too fast, I need whatever I have left to be happy.