Stop taking life so seriously

"Stop taking life so seriously."

That was the message I received last month, and I couldn’t just scroll past it. It made me pause and really think. Why does that hit so hard? Why do I take everything in life with such intensity—my workouts, my writing, the future of my unborn children? Even this client who keeps piling unreasonable demands on us?

It's like life is constantly pressing down from all sides, always demanding my seriousness.

But then I started reflecting on why. Why do I let the weight of all these things hang so heavily over me?

I discovered that the roots go back to childhood. From early on, two core “truths” were drilled into me: life is fragile, and life is finite.

When we’re young, our parents love us so much that their natural instinct is to shield us from harm. Yet, unintentionally, that love plants seeds of fear. We grow up being told to avoid every small danger. Climbing a tree could lead to a broken leg. Walk outside barefoot, and ants will sting you. Talk to strangers, and something terrible might happen. This kind of love turns into a protective shield, but in the process, we start seeing life as something that could shatter at any moment.

Then society steps in, reinforcing this idea that life is fleeting and delicate. We’re taught, in science, religion, and daily life, that our time here is limited. So naturally, the message becomes: make the most of it. But that doesn’t mean we’re taught to enjoy it. Instead, it often translates into constant busyness, a relentless chase for more. We rush to capture every moment, take endless photos, videos—anything to hold onto the life we feel is slipping through our fingers. We’re rarely encouraged to be present, to just live in the now. Instead, we're conditioned to always be worrying about what's next.

So I find myself here, decades into this mindset, and the challenge now is how to undo it. How do I step back and shift this perspective I’ve carried for so long?

I’ve started to realize, as I look back over the course of my life, that I’m anything but fragile. Life didn’t break me. It’s tested me, yes, multiple times, but here I am still standing tall after all those trials. Yet despite knowing this, I still have to work on getting every bone and muscle inside of me to truly believe that I am not fragile.

As for the idea that life is finite? Sure, my body won’t last forever, but I believe in something more. I believe my soul is timeless, eternal. And if that’s true, why am I rushing? Why am I so caught up in reaching some arbitrary finish line? I don't need to be in the best shape of my life this summer, or even next summer. I have the luxury of time—of building a routine that becomes part of my life over the next few years, rather than frantically forcing it all into one.

And if my soul is going to live on, then what’s the urgency? Why am I letting this life weigh so heavily on me? It’s not about cramming everything into this short time. Maybe the real answer is to savor it, to let go a little, and trust that everything doesn’t need to be so serious.

Maybe, just maybe, life is meant to be lived a little lighter.