Recently a friend shared this youtube video. It’s some 68-year-old guy relaying the lessons he learned in the past 20 years For me, it was jaw dropping, and frankly, pretty sad. 

Here’s the high points as written by my artificially inteligent friend:

1. Time is Finite: At 68, you realize time doesn’t run out dramatically; it “evaporates quietly.” The 20 years between 48 and 68 is only about 7,000 days, so stop spending them carelessly.
2. Work is Not a Safety Net: Work will consume every part of your life—family, health, and joy—unless you actively protect those boundaries. No job will ever provide the ultimate peace you are looking for.
3. Stress Accumulates Like Debt: Stress isn’t just background noise; it compounds over decades and shows up in your blood pressure, sleep, and moods later in life. Managing it is a strategy, not a weakness.
4. The Goal is “Enough,” Not “More”: Freedom isn’t found in accumulating more status or money, but in subtraction and needing less. Defining what is “enough” early on allows you to reclaim your life.
5. Health is an Irreplaceable Asset: Your health requires maintenance to ensure independence. You don’t want to reach retirement only to realize you sacrificed your body to get there.
6. Stop Performing for Others: Most people are too busy with their own fears to worry about you. Once you stop trying to look successful for an audience, you can finally relax into yourself.
7. Start Your Exit Plan Early: Don’t wait until your mid-50s to figure out how to leave the grind. Start looking for options and defining your “enough” amount as soon as possible.

Again, this hit me hard. 

My first thought was “it took this guy 68 years to realize this shit???!!”. Fuck man, number 1, from which all the others follow, became incredibly clear the first time someone tried to blow my head off. Number 6 came shortly after the realization of how short and fleeting time here is. A few years later, and a few more times through the wringer, slugging it out for 30 years seemed like a pretty stupid way to waste this fleeting life. And yeah, health is kinda important. Especially when being in better shape than the other guy means you’re not the one in a body bag.

Like, everyone knows this shit, right? Right?? Oh wait…..

I think I’m getting better at adulting or whatev, because this time it only took a minute to realize I’ve yet again fallen prey to the false consensus effect.

Guessing most are like that 68-year-old guy; they don’t realize this shit until the end is a lot closer. Which is normal. Duh. Of course people won’t learn the above stuff until the sun starts to go down.

Which reminds me of how lucky I’ve been. Sure, I’m damn thankful I’m still alive. 

But I’m just as grateful to have almost died a bunch. 

Flashbacks aren’t fun, but they sure help you keep perspective. The problem is, I have no idea how to communicate this to most people effectively. I guess I could grab people, shake them, and yell “Everyone you love is going to die. You are going to die. SOONER THAN YOU THINK. WAKE. THE. FUCK. UP.”

I see dead people

If you haven’t watched The Sixth Sense, know that Bruce Willis is dead the entire move. There, now I’ve spoiled it. You have 107 minutes of your life back.* Spend it on something more worthwhile, like maybe watching Star Trek or SG-1. 

Anyways, I was telling my wife the other day how lucky I feel to have mildly intense flashbacks of many of the dead people I’ve seen. 

One is this 15-year-old kid who’d robbed a bunch of people, and shot a few of them. We chased him all over the city, and he wrecked out hitting a curve too fast. His body flew 50 feet after his truck rolled a few times. I stood over him and listened to his last sputtering breaths as he stared into nothingness. 

Another is a friend of mine who went off the rails. We got sent in on an emergency assault after he implied he’d kill his wife, then dropped from the radar. As soon as the intel came together, we rushed to his house, kicked in his doors, and realized we were hours too late. Murder suicide. It’s weird to see the cold bodies of people that you used to get coffee with. 

There are a few guys whom according to the PC language of my new field, I would describe as “person permanently experiencing quietus” after we helped facilitate their expedited transition to such a state. Because, you know, they tried to kill us first. 

Young lady electrocuted after crashing into a breaker box. SIDs kids. Week old DOA’s covered in flies. On and on. After seeing it a bunch, it’s pretty easy to see how thin the veil is. Coupled with the occasional brush with death, it doesn’t take much to imagine your own demise, or the last breath of those you love. 

I still take it all for granted, and fall into the habit of thinking this will last forever. Then the memories come back, and gently remind me nothing is guaranteed. Thankfully, this is most days. I hug my kids, kiss my wife, and make sure whatever I’m doing matters. At least to me.

After doing all the therapy, much of the above has shifted from full on flashbacks to just intrusive memories. When I see that kid splayed out on the ground, my body doesn’t think it’s ten years ago. It’s just a memory that won’t go away. Having studied the mental health stuff, it’s possible further treatment may help to reduce such occurrence. But I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to wake up some day, and realize my life has slipped by. If anything, I wonder how I can get more people to remember their mortality without all the side effects. A big part of me doesn’t want my kids to go down this path. But I hope like hell they don’t sleepwalk through this beautiful, crazy life. 

I’m guessing most people are like that 68-year-old youtuber. I don’t know what to tell you. “Be 18 when a war starts” isn’t really a plan for action. I guess you could buy a skull charm bracelet (not an affiliate link, seriously, don’t buy this. Fuck you Ryan 😉.) to remember the impermanence of it all, but that seems pretty stupid. 

Best I can tell you is to seek out the reality of how bad shit is. Maybe go be a child advocate,  volunteer at a hospice, or get an EMT cert and work a few shifts a month?  Make a difference, and you probably won’t get killed. You’ll lose some sleep, but at least you won’t realize 20 years went by in a blink. 

Anybody got any other ideas?

*I don’t actually hate the Sixth Sense. I just enjoy being an asshole sometimes.