The saddest trap of adulthood is thinking you have more time than you do

Remember when you were twenty-five and thought forty was ancient? I certainly do. Back then, I had this vague sense that I'd figure everything out "later" - when I had more experience, more money, more... time.

Now at thirty-seven, with a baby daughter sleeping in the next room, I'm struck by how quickly "later" becomes "now" and how "someday" has a way of never actually arriving.

The most insidious lie we tell ourselves in adulthood isn't about money or success or relationships. It's that we have more time than we actually do. We treat our days like an infinite resource, pushing off the important conversations, delaying the big decisions, assuming we'll get another chance tomorrow.

But here's what becoming a father taught me: time isn't just passing - it's evaporating. One moment you're holding a newborn, the next she's rolling over, and before you know it, you'll be teaching her to drive. The future we're banking on? It's already here.

1. The comfort of "next year"

How many times have you told yourself you'll start that business next year? Learn that language when things calm down? Take that trip when you have more money saved?

I spent three years in a warehouse job, telling myself I'd figure out my real path "soon." Every day felt like a placeholder, a temporary detour before my real life began. My psychology degree gathered dust while I moved boxes, convinced that my moment would come when I was ready.

The problem? I was waiting for some magical moment of readiness that never arrives. You're never fully prepared. The timing is never perfect. And while you're waiting for the stars to align, years slip through your fingers like sand.

What finally woke me up wasn't some grand epiphany. It was the simple realization that I'd been saying "next year" for three years straight. The future I was waiting for had already passed me by.

2. The Buddhist truth about impermanence

In my book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego, I explore the concept of impermanence - the idea that everything is constantly changing, including us.

This isn't meant to be depressing. It's meant to be liberating.

When you truly grasp that nothing lasts forever - not your problems, not your youth, not your opportunities - it changes how you approach each day. You stop treating time like it's endless. You stop assuming the people you love will always be there. You stop postponing joy.

My daughter is teaching me this lesson daily. She won't be this small forever. The sleepless nights I'm struggling through? They'll end. The way she looks at me like I'm her entire world? That will change too.

Understanding impermanence doesn't make you morbid. It makes you present. It makes you appreciate the fleeting nature of this exact moment, because you know you'll never get it back.

3. The myth of the perfect moment

Recently, I read Rudá Iandê's new book Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life, and one line stopped me cold: "When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real."

We're all waiting for the perfect moment to act. When we're more confident. When we have more resources. When the kids are older. When work slows down.

But life is happening right now, in all its messy, imperfect glory. The book inspired me to stop waiting for ideal conditions and start working with what I have. Because the alternative - waiting for perfection - means never starting at all.

Think about it: every significant achievement in human history happened despite imperfect conditions. Nobody ever felt completely ready. They just decided the cost of waiting was higher than the risk of trying.

4. The relationships you're neglecting

When was the last time you called that friend you've been meaning to catch up with? Visited your aging parents without an agenda? Had a real conversation with your partner that went deeper than logistics and schedules?

We assume the people we love know how we feel. We assume they'll be there when we finally have time. We assume we'll have countless opportunities to make things right.

But people move. They change. They die. And all those conversations you've been postponing become conversations you'll never have.

I think about this every time I'm tempted to check my phone instead of playing with my daughter. These early moments of connection - they're not rehearsals for real life. They are real life. And once they're gone, no amount of success or achievement will bring them back.

5. The career moves you're not making

Here's an uncomfortable truth: that dream job isn't going to wait for you. That business idea won't stay relevant forever. The skills you're planning to learn are becoming obsolete while you procrastinate.

During my warehouse years, I watched people with half my education leap past me professionally. Not because they were smarter or luckier, but because they acted while I waited. They applied for positions they weren't qualified for. They started businesses that weren't perfect. They took risks while I played it safe.

The job market doesn't care about your timeline. Technology doesn't pause for your comfort. Opportunities have expiration dates, and most of them are sooner than you think.

6. The physical reality check

Your body is keeping score of every year you delay taking care of it. Every workout you skip, every health check you postpone, every stress-management technique you'll "get to eventually" - they're all adding up.

I used to think I had decades to get in shape, to fix my diet, to address my stress. But watching my parents age has been a stark reminder that physical decline isn't gradual - it can be sudden and irreversible.

The energy you have today? It's not guaranteed tomorrow. The recovery ability you take for granted? It diminishes every year. The health issues you're ignoring? They're compounding in the background.

As I mention in Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego, your body isn't separate from your spiritual and mental well-being - it's the foundation everything else is built on.

7. The creative work dying inside you

What's that project you've been meaning to start? The book you'll write someday? The art you'll create when you retire?

Every creative impulse has a shelf life. The story that feels urgent today will feel distant next year. The perspective you have right now - shaped by this exact moment in your life - will never be quite the same again.

I started Hackspirit.com in my twenties, not because I felt ready, but because I realized my ideas wouldn't wait for me. The insights I had then, the energy I brought to it - they were products of that specific time in my life. If I'd waited until I felt "experienced enough," the moment would have passed.

Your creative work isn't just about you. It's about what you can offer the world right now, with your current understanding, your present struggles, your today perspective. Tomorrow's version of you will have different things to say.

Final words

The saddest part about thinking we have more time than we do isn't just the opportunities we miss. It's that we're sleepwalking through the very life we're planning to live later.

Every day you postpone what matters is a day you've decided other things matter more. Every conversation you delay, every risk you don't take, every dream you defer - they're all bets that tomorrow is guaranteed.

But tomorrow isn't guaranteed. All we have is today, this moment, this choice about what to do next.

So make the call. Start the project. Have the conversation. Take the risk. Not because you're ready, but because waiting for ready means waiting forever.

The time you're waiting for? It's now. It's always been now.