I can’t remember the last time I let the world pass me by. The last time I found a place to sit and think, and stay away from the churn, the rush and the panic. It’s probably been at least a year. Maybe more.

I know the effect this has on me. I’m not able to focus, when I’m working on my business, or my writing, or my health. I’m always evaluating the destination, and how far off it seems, and how I can get there faster.

There’s a sense that if I do take a step back, I’ll run out of time. It’s as though I’m aware that my final destination is the same as yours, and the same as Thurber’s. But knowing that hasn’t made me feel any sense of calm. It hasn’t made me aware of the moments that I should enjoy.

My Mum always taught me that you have to celebrate your victories and your losses. The small ones, as well as the big ones. She introduced a culture, a tradition in our family, of finding ways to celebrate the milestones in your life that come with changes.

I think it was her way of reminding us that every moment mattered.

One of the traditions was Break-Up Ice Cream. When one of us had been through a break up with our girlfriends, we knew that Mum would have a container of Sarah Lee Triple Chocolate ice cream waiting at home.

She’d crack it open, and we’d sit down and watch a movie together, and eat delicious ice cream. We’re not much for talking, in my family, but that tradition always said more to me than a big speech.

The past few years haven’t been easy. They’ve been pretty taxing. I know there’s always a raging debate in the comments of my blog posts, around how much of what I say is really authentic, and how much of it is marketing. The thing is, it’s all genuine.

In the past 10 years, I’ve seen companies that I truly believed in fall apart. I’ve had the carpet pulled out from under me more times than I can take. I’ve been deeply in debt and I’ve struggled with alcohol. I’ve dropped out of law school, toured with a band, written for a platinum record, and advised some incredible startups.

I think if I had paused, to celebrate those moments — and celebrate them as they happened — I might have been happier.

When a relationship ends badly, there are always three stories.

There is the one you tell, where you tried to do what was best for them, but they hurt you and shattered you.

Then there is the one they tell, where they tried to do what was best for you, but you hurt them and shattered them.

The thing is, these two stories tend to be about a good person and a bad person. We become so caught up in these narratives that we forget about the individual moments within them. Suddenly it seems hard to separate the good times from the bad.

It is almost impossible to remember when you walked arm in arm, or kissed overlooking the ocean, without remembering the accusations and recriminations that tore you apart when everything came to an end.

In the meantime, while you’re crying and mending, and trying to make sense of what has happened, everything changes. Perhaps in tiny ways. Perhaps in every way. The restaurant where you had your first date closes down.

You find a hole in the sleeve of your Black Flag shirt. And then one day, after all of these changes have slowly wiped away a little of the pain without you even realizing it, you start to tell the third story.

The one about two people who hurt and broke each other, over a certain period of time, by trying to hold onto something that they should have let go.

The one without a destination. Without a mad rush. The one that’s just made up of moments. Because we’re all going to end up the same way, and the only thing that makes us different is the way we spend our moments.