Lesson #1: Know Your Priorities. You Have One Life To Live Them Well.

Unfortunately this isn’t an attempt at being super intense in my first post — my year actually started on this note with an unexpected death in the family.

I got the call while at work on what would end up being the final day in my engineering job. Needless to say, the scene that followed was ugly — I absolutely lost it. Despite the fact that I pulled off a convincing reenactment of an exorcism, my coworkers overwhelmed me with immense support and kindness. They walked me out of the building, talked to my boss, and called my boyfriend to let him know what had happened. A few even offered to give me a ride home.

My grandpa and I were close. I’m not going to exaggerate and say that it hit any world records, but it was stronger than the average grandparent-grandchild relationship. I’ve been able to see him multiple times a year throughout my life, and I even lived with him and my grandma during the summer before college. We’ve been close ever since that summer.

In Memory of David Fitton

He loved the Red Sox. We believed that we would be the best commentary duo if NESN ever gave us the chance. He played ball with me and followed my softball career religiously. He made me eggs for breakfast, where we would eat outside and share the paper. He empowered my drive to become an engineer — eventually we would even share a legacy at his old company.

Grandpa was a serious, hard-working, and loyal man with the right edge of silliness. He shared his knowledge of math, history, sports, and literature. He also shared his deviled eggs, the ones that we would stealthily take at the local Friday social hours. And he loved me deeply, just as he did with all of his grandchildren.

Things Left Unsaid

Yet, I postponed in telling him about my plans to leave engineering with nothing else lined up. I kept putting it off, not wanting to risk the pain of seeing disappointment in the eyes of someone I respected. Of all of the children and grandchildren — there are a lot of us— I’m not only the one engineer, I also worked at his old company. Any way I spun it, it felt like a double whammy.

The closest I got to telling him was quickly confirming my plans to quit over a Facetime call at Christmas. Either my parents or one of my aunts had (thankfully) let him know, and he simply wanted to understand my reasoning. I promised to call him back to chat about it soon. I never got around to having that discussion.

Death and Priorities

Why didn’t I call back? My instinctive drive to be a people-pleaser held me in limbo. A better question would be: why do I prioritize people-pleasing more than my self-improvement? Admittedly, this scenario is only a small example of a missed opportunity. But the question still begs for a deeper look.

The topic of priorities and death have been discussed at length for centuries. Everyone knows that nothing helps you appreciate the beauty of life more than death.

You will find this philosophy summarized eloquently:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”— Mary Oliver.

You will also find it summarized bluntly:

“You and everyone you know are going to be dead soon. And in the short amount of time between here and there, you have a limited amount of fucks to give. Very few, in fact. And if you go around giving a fuck about everything and everyone without conscious thought or choice — well, then you’re going to get fucked.” — Mark Manson

Let’s focus on the latter (for what it’s worth, I love both quotes). This comes from The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. If there’s one self-help book you plan to read this year, let it be this one. It’s like a polite slap in the face that helps you to really, honestly think about your life.

The part of the book that challenged me the most was the theory that we must accept the inevitability of death. He reminds us that death is the only certainty in our life — everything else maintains some level of risk of falling to shit. In the world of priorities, certainties should be treated as checkpoints. Death would qualify as the final checkpoint. Accepting death is accepting our journey on this course. It serves as a beacon, and we should to orient our lives and priorities towards it.

I personally love this theory — I find other theories to be abstract and lacking in vigor. This approach forces you to create your own incentive by accepting something difficult yet unavoidable.

Your One Wild and Precious Life

My grandpa loved his family. He celebrated over 50 years of marriage with my grandma, and he always made time for his loved ones. He worked hard, building an admirable engineering career in the process. He believed in keeping his word, honoring his commitments, creating structure, and continuously learning. These were his priorities — and they lead to a damn good life.

I had to accept the death of my grandpa this year, and I will continue to try and accept the inevitability of my death. This will be a challenge (you know, I kind of want to live for quite awhile longer) but a necessary one to provide the incentive for prioritizing the things that matter most.

So, I will continue to fight my obligatory, people-pleasing habits when they conflict with more important values —my health, helping others, self-improvement, and making a significant impact.

As it turns out, my grandma had discussed my move with grandpa. Both of them supported me and encouraged this need for exploration. They trusted me and my decision, even if they didn’t understand it. Turns out, I had nothing to fear. But I also had nothing to regret — one missed conversation ended up giving me an incredibly valuable lesson.

These stories are part of the ‘Lessons From My Accidental Gap Year’ series. Each one reflects a specific experience over the course of the last year. While these would not be considered polished philosophies, I do believe that they provide a solid foundation for improvement.