Things I Know at 43 That I Wish I Knew at 23

At 23, I thought 43 was old.

Not old old. But definitely the age where you're supposed to have your shit figured out.

You have the career. The house. The money. The relationship. The retirement account. You know what you're doing, why you're doing it, and presumably you've stopped making stupid decisions.

I'm 43 now.

I have some unfortunate news for 23-year-old me.

Nobody knows what the fuck they're doing.

You just get better at recognizing which problems matter, which ones don't, and which ones you created entirely by yourself.

I've gotten some things right.

I've gotten plenty wrong.

I've started over more than once. I've changed careers. I've made money and wasted money. I've loved people, lost people, raised kids, buried people I loved, gone back to school in my 40s and spent enough time wondering what if I'd done this differently? to realize that question rarely changes anything.

But there are things I know now that I genuinely wish somebody had explained to me when I was 23.

So if I could sit across from that kid for an hour, this is what I'd tell him.

1. Twenty Years Is Going to Pass Whether You're Ready or Not

At 23, twenty years sounds like another lifetime.

It isn't.

It's fucking Tuesday.

One minute you're wondering what you're going to do with your life. Then somehow you're looking backward at two decades of decisions that didn't feel particularly important when you were making them.

That's the dangerous part.

Big outcomes usually aren't created by one gigantic decision.

They're created by hundreds of boring little ones.

The money you didn't invest.

The class you kept saying you'd take next year.

The relationship you knew wasn't right but stayed in anyway.

The trip you kept postponing.

The workout you skipped.

The phone call you didn't make.

None of those feels life-changing on a random Wednesday.

Stack enough Wednesdays together and suddenly you're 43.

Time doesn't give a shit whether you've made up your mind.

It keeps moving.

2. Start Investing Before You Think You Can Afford To

This one pisses me off because the math is brutally simple.

When you're young, you tend to think:

I'll invest when I make more money.

Then you make more money.

And somehow your expenses mysteriously learn how to make more money too.

There's always another car.

Another bill.

Another trip.

Another thing you “need.”

Meanwhile the most valuable financial asset you'll ever have is quietly disappearing:

time.

I didn't take full advantage of mine.

If I could change one financial habit from my 20s, it wouldn't be finding the perfect stock or predicting Bitcoin or discovering some magical investment.

It would be much more boring.

Put money away automatically. Every paycheck. Don't touch it. Increase it when your income increases.

You don't need to be brilliant.

You need to start.

Twenty-three-year-old me would've hated that answer.

Forty-three-year-old me understands it.

3. Making More Money Doesn't Fix Bad Money Habits

There is a special kind of stupidity involved in thinking the solution to spending too much money is simply making more money.

Ask me how I know.

Income can hide financial stupidity remarkably well.

You can have a good salary and still feel broke.

You can own nice things and have absolutely no breathing room.

You can look successful while every paycheck already belongs to somebody else before it hits your account.

More income is powerful.

But only if some of it stays yours.

Learn the difference between being able to make the payment and being able to afford the thing.

Those are not remotely the same.

I wish I'd understood that sooner.

4. Your Career Is Important. It Is Not You.

At 23, careers feel permanent.

Pick the right one.

Climb.

Get promoted.

Make more money.

Become something impressive.

There's nothing wrong with ambition. Work can give you purpose, pride, friendships and a very good life.

But your job will take as much of you as you're willing to give it.

And organizations have an incredible ability to continue functioning after you leave.

Your kids don't work that way.

Neither do the people who love you.

Be good at what you do.

Take pride in it.

But don't confuse your occupation with your identity.

Someday somebody else will sit in your chair.

Nobody else gets to be your kids' dad.

5. Being Busy and Moving Forward Aren't the Same Thing

This took me way too long to understand.

You can work constantly and still go nowhere.

Overtime.

Errands.

Bills.

Appointments.

Projects.

Emails.

Obligations.

You finish one thing and immediately replace it with another.

It feels productive because you're exhausted.

But exhaustion isn't progress.

Sometimes the thing that actually moves your life forward is boring:

Paying down the debt.

Finishing the degree.

Going to the gym.

Saving the money.

Making the phone call.

Having the uncomfortable conversation.

Doing the same useful thing for months when nobody is applauding.

Activity feels productive.

Consistency actually is.

6. Take Care of Your Body Before It Starts Sending Invoices

At 23, your body is basically an irresponsible landlord.

You abuse the property and somehow nobody sends you a bill.

Sleep four hours?

Fine.

Eat garbage?

Fine.

Drink too much?

Fine.

Stop training for six months?

You'll probably survive.

Eventually management changes.

Suddenly your back has opinions.

Your knees have terms and conditions.

Your doctor starts ordering tests whose names you recognize.

And “I'll get back in shape eventually” starts sounding considerably less convincing.

Train.

Eat reasonably well.

Sleep.

Get your shit checked.

You don't have to become obsessed with longevity or spend your life terrified of dying.

Just don't spend the first half of your life borrowing health from the second.

7. The Person You Love Can Still Be the Wrong Person for You

This one would've been difficult for younger me to understand.

Love matters.

It matters a lot.

But love by itself doesn't automatically create a healthy relationship.

Two people can genuinely love each other and still be terrible together.

Compatibility matters.

Communication matters.

Timing matters.

Values matter.

How you fight matters.

How you repair things after you fight matters.

Whether you feel safe being yourself matters.

And sometimes walking away doesn't mean the relationship was fake.

It means the relationship ended.

There's a difference.

8. Starting Over Isn't Failure

I've had chapters of my life end that I absolutely did not expect to end.

When that happens, starting over feels humiliating.

You look around at people who appear to have stayed on the correct path and wonder where exactly you fucked yours up.

But you're never actually starting from zero.

You bring experience.

You bring scars.

You bring better judgment.

You bring knowledge of what didn't work.

And hopefully you bring enough humility not to repeat every stupid decision you made the first time.

Starting over at 40 isn't starting again as the person you were at 20.

You're starting with twenty years of data.

Use it.

9. Go Back to School If You Want To

There's something uniquely strange about doing homework in your 40s.

You finish working.

Deal with everything else life requires.

Then sit down and discover that somebody would like a discussion post by Sunday night.

Fantastic.

But I wish younger me understood something:

Education doesn't have an expiration date.

Neither does changing direction.

You aren't “behind” because you're learning something later than somebody else.

If it takes you four years to finish something, you're going to be four years older either way.

You might as well be four years older with the degree.

10. Take the Trip

Not every trip.

Don't put a vacation on a 29% credit card because some asshole on a motivational Instagram account told you experiences matter more than money.

That's stupid.

But when you can reasonably afford it?

Go.

I've forgotten a lot of things I've bought.

I remember places.

I remember road trips.

I remember looking out airplane windows.

I remember ridiculous things my kids did hundreds or thousands of miles from home.

I remember conversations.

I remember scenery.

I remember laughing until somebody couldn't breathe.

Eventually your kids stop being little.

Eventually your parents get older.

Eventually you get older.

There will always be another object to buy.

You don't always get another summer.

11. Take More Pictures — But Occasionally Put the Camera Down

This sounds contradictory coming from someone who loves photography.

Take the picture.

Especially of people.

Photograph your kids doing ordinary shit.

Photograph your parents.

Photograph your friends.

Photograph your house.

Photograph the stupid car you loved.

Photograph the dog.

One day the boring photographs become the important ones.

But after you take it?

Put the camera down sometimes.

You don't need 400 photographs of every experience.

You need to actually experience some of it.

The photograph should remind you of the memory.

It shouldn't replace it.

12. Call Your Parents

You think there's plenty of time.

There isn't.

That's all I'm going to say about that.

13. Your Kids Aren't Interrupting Your Life

They are your life.

That doesn't mean you stop being yourself.

You should have interests.

Friends.

Relationships.

Goals.

A career.

Things that belong to you.

But kids have a way of asking for your attention at the least convenient possible moment.

You're working.

You're tired.

You're trying to get somewhere.

You're trying to finish something.

And they're asking you to look at something completely ridiculous.

Look anyway.

One day they stop asking as often.

I don't think anyone lies on their deathbed wishing they'd spent less time laughing with their kids.

14. Most People Aren't Thinking About You Nearly as Much as You Think

This would've saved me an incredible amount of unnecessary stress.

What will people think?

Probably nothing.

They're thinking about themselves.

The embarrassing thing you said?

They forgot.

The mistake you made?

They're busy worrying about theirs.

The decision you're afraid people will judge?

Half of them aren't paying attention and the other half don't have to live with the consequences.

Take advice from people you respect.

Listen when criticism is deserved.

But don't build your life around an imaginary jury.

They aren't coming home with you.

15. You Will Survive Things You Were Certain Would Break You

There will be moments when your life doesn't look anything like you expected.

Relationships end.

People die.

Money disappears.

Plans fail.

You disappoint people.

People disappoint you.

Doors close that you were absolutely certain were supposed to stay open.

And in the middle of it, you'll think:

How the fuck am I supposed to come back from this?

Then somehow you do.

Not immediately.

Not cleanly.

Sometimes not without scars.

But eventually the thing that once consumed your entire life becomes something you can talk about without feeling like you're standing inside it.

That's worth remembering when the next bad thing happens.

You've been convinced the world was ending before.

It wasn't.

16. Don't Spend Your Entire Life Preparing to Live

This might be the biggest one.

Save for retirement.

Plan ahead.

Be responsible.

Build something.

Take care of your family.

Do all of that.

But don't turn your entire life into preparation for some future version of it.

I'll travel when...

I'll buy the motorcycle when...

I'll get in shape when...

I'll spend more time with the kids when...

I'll take photography seriously when...

I'll go back to school when...

I'll be happy when...

There will always be another when.

The trick, apparently, is preparing for tomorrow without sacrificing every fucking today to get there.

I'm still figuring that one out.

What I'd Tell 23-Year-Old Me

I don't think I'd give him a twenty-year blueprint.

He wouldn't follow it anyway.

I certainly wouldn't have.

I'd probably tell him something simpler.

You're going to fuck some things up.

Some badly.

You're also going to do things you're incredibly proud of.

You're going to become a father.

You're going to discover that the things you thought defined success don't always matter as much as you thought they did.

You're going to lose people you thought would always be there.

You're going to meet people you haven't met yet who will become enormously important to you.

You're going to start over.

More than once.

And you're going to be okay.

So save more money.

Take care of your body.

Call your parents.

Take the trip when you can afford it.

Take the picture.

Put the camera down.

Tell people you love them while they're still around to hear it.

And when your kid asks you to stop whatever you're doing because he desperately needs to explain something involving Pokémon, Cheez-Its or a completely incomprehensible YouTube video—

listen.

Twenty years goes faster than you think.

And apparently 43 isn't that fucking old after all.