How to create a “life list.”
Fear and doubt love the inside of your head and heart. In the quiet recesses, your fear gets to appear larger and more complex than it really is. It gets to cast shadows that are exaggerated and twisted until you feel you’re fighting King Kong, instead of a single monkey on your back. Do you know what fear fears? Paper.
Fear is terrified that, in the light of day, you’ll take notes about your life. Fear would rather you jumble and tangle your thoughts inside until they seem too large to deal with, until you say, “I don’t know where to start!” And so you stop before you even begin. But today, we’re going to build a list. And this list is simple.
I first worked on this list with a 22-year-old guy who came to the second Quitter Conference we held in Nashville. We had breakfast in Cracker Barrel, and five minutes into our conversation he told me this:
“I’m in a funk. There are all these things I want to do, but I don’t know how to do them. I know this isn’t what I want to do with life, but I don’t know how to get out of it. It feels like quicksand. I am stuck. This isn’t the life I want to live, but I don’t feel like I can make a single move.”
Maybe you’ve felt like that before. You don’t have to be 22 to have that feeling. I’ve met 35-year-old dads who have told me, “I didn’t know everything you’re supposed to do as an adult. I got married. I had a kid. We bought a house. And I go to work everyday and sit in my cubicle and think, ‘this can’t be what my life is forever.’” I’ve met college students who were told that college was the “best four years of your life,” and it hasn’t turned out that way. They’re in a major they hate, headed toward a job market that is non-existent. I’ve met 60 year olds who tell me, “I’ve worked in a steel mill for 40 years. I don’t know what’s next, but I want there to be a next.”
No matter where you are in that range, if you’ve ever felt stuck, a list can be a great way to get started. And it’s simple.
Write down all the things you want to do. Make a long list of the dreams and hopes and aspirations you have. For my 22-year-old friend, here is what his list looked like:
1. I want to move out of my mom’s house and get a place of my own.
2. I want to get a job that’s not in the service industry. Inconsistent hours and pay are killing me.
3. I want to go back to college and graduate.
4. I want to start writing more.
Whether your list is longer or shorter than his, I guarantee fear is telling you the same thing it was telling my friend. “You are failing each one of those things right now.”
Every day, as long as his list stayed in his head and not on paper, my friend felt like his current situation was one of failure and funk.
Every time he’d pull in the driveway of his mother’s house, he’d think, “What a loser 22 year old I am living at home. I should have my own place.”
Every time someone would give him a dollar as a tip for valeting their car, he’d think, “I should have a real job where I don’t depend on tips.”
Every time he’d think about college or talk with a friend who was about to graduate, he’d think, “I dropped out of two colleges, I should go back.”
Fear is terrified you’ll write down your hopes because when you do, you murder your “Should list.” Your should list is the internal task list fear scrolls through everyday in attempt to tell you what you should be doing.
You should be a better parent.
You should have a happier marriage.
You should be finished with college.
You should have a better job.
You should be writing more or painting more or anything more.
The should list will dominate your present until you actually take a few minutes and write it down. It sounds a little crazy, but should lists tend to morph into dream lists when they come in contact with paper.
Once you’ve got your list down, and it won’t be perfect, add the “reality filter” to it.
Go through your dream list and add a quick note about your current circumstances. Here’s what my friend’s list would look like.
1. I want to move out of my mom’s house and get a place of my own.
(Reality = I don’t have the money right now to rent my own place.)
2. I want to get a job that’s not in the service industry. Inconsistent hours and pay are killing me.
(Reality = There are other retail jobs I could apply for.)
3. I want to go back to college and graduate.
(Reality = I’ve missed the sign up for this current semester.)
4. I want to start writing more.
(Reality = The only thing standing in the way of this goal is me.)
It sounds morose to even mention the words “reality” and “dreams” in the same sentence, but it’s not. Figuring out where you are is actually the start of real hope. Because the next thing you’re going to do is ask your current circumstances some simple questions.
1. I want to move out of my mom’s house and get a place of my own.
(Reality = I don’t have the money right now to rent my own place.)
(Questions = How much would it actually cost to rent an apartment? If I had 3 roommates, how much would it change that price? Could I save up that amount in six months? What financial sacrifices could I make in order to make this goal a reality?)
2. I want to get a job that’s not in the service industry. Inconsistent hours and pay are killing me.
(Reality = There are other retail jobs I could apply for.)
(Questions = What do I really hate about my current job? Is it the inconsistency of the hours? Could I alleviate that with an honest conversation with my boss? Would taking a job at Home Depot solve that?)
3. I want to go back to college and graduate.
(Reality = I’ve missed the sign up for this current semester.)
(Questions = When is the sign-up deadline for the next semester? Could I take a night class right now in the major I am interested in? How long would it take me to save up for tuition and books?)
4. I want to start writing more.
(Reality = The only thing standing in the way of this goal is me.)
(Questions = Could I start a blog? Is there a book about writing I could read? What if I just kept a journal?)
Once you’ve got your questions out and your reality filter on, you can start to place your ideas on the calendar. You can look at the goal of moving out of your parents house or buying your house or writing a book and say, “OK, it’s going to take me 6 months to afford to rent my own place. I’m going to save up for that in the next 6 months, but I’m giving up this daily guilt of feeling like I should be in my own place. I’m not going to let that flavor my day.” And then you go to the next item on your list and do the same thing until all those concerns have actually been written out.
What you’re left with is not a shapeless list of failures bouncing around your head, a should list if you will, but actually the longitude of your day. The latitude of your present moment. You’ve drawn your starting line. It’s clearly marked on the ground, and you can actually get started.
Question:
What is something you would put down on your list? A dream, a goal, a hope?