I have a friend who totally left the “hamster wheel,” and it intrigued me personally. After much experience, much reflection, and deep self-reflection too, he just jumped off of the infinite wheel of striving that was running him endlessly into a lonely grave.
I’ll tell you a little more about him.
He’s been an achiever and over-achiever his whole life, starting very young. He’s always been a fierce competitor and a person that hates to lose and hates to be in the same conversation with the status quo. He worked extremely hard to be at the top of his class in high school. Did the same thing in college and picked a profession that he made sure was extremely lucrative. All of which there is nothing wrong with at all. Hard work is honorable and should be rewarded accordingly.
As he settled into his profession and started to reap the rewards of years of hard work, he did what we’re all conditioned to do. He began buying things. A structure with four walls to sleep in, something decent to drive around in, and a few toys to play with on the weekends. They were initially mediocre and affordable things. But as you may know part of the conditioning is always looking at bigger, better, prettier, more and in result. We’re constantly busier.
The concept of “The American Dream” was presented to us in the early 1900s. We were intentionally fed images and ideas that the only and truly successful life resulted in a plot of land in the suburbs, a house with a white picket fence, our family and golden retriever standing on lush green grass in the front yard. They told us that until we achieved this image, we hadn’t really made it and couldn’t possibly be happy.
Later in the century, specifically the 1980s, television shows started surfacing that purposely flashed before our eyes the lives of glamour and luxury. “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” showed us multi-million-dollar mansions, yachts costing far more than our simple residence that were full of love and laughter. Lives of extreme luxury that the famous were living were presented to us weekly. Many of us, or our parents, watched these shows weekly while becoming more discontent with our simplicity. Many set out to achieve what they saw on television and did it no matter the personal cost. The real personal cost they were paying wouldn’t be seen until years later.
In the process of bigger and busier. Our home lives suffered, our relationships and marriages became increasingly distant. The home full of love and laughter was now hollow, with only echoes of other conversations and sounds of slamming doors. The family dinner table slowly disappeared as we spent more time striving for bigger, with much less time forming strong family bonds. We accrued debt on stuff instead of spending our most valuable resource. Our time.
The new slogan became, “Not now son, your dad’s busy with extra work.” Meanwhile our children slowly found refuge in everything else besides a strong family unit. Overtime erased the children’s time. We did give them the bigger home in a better zip code to live in. Alone though. The better zip code had an unseen, tremendous price tag to our personal and private lives. This is generally speaking of course and without any condemnation or judgement passed. The “people” who formed this system of discontentment and endless running on the hamster wheel that they built. Built it with this desired end in mind.
So, back to my friend.
He called me one day and said, “I’m finally at the end of myself. I’m hopping off of the hamster wheel. I’ve been running on this thing; to gain more things and it wore me down to a zombie. I’m selling my toys, downsizing from the excess, paying off the debts and going back to a simple life. Working less, loving more, picking back up hobbies I once loved and eating dinner with my family again. Something I haven’t done in a decade.”
“Never get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.” – Dolly Parton
