I don’t hate work so much as feel the opportunity costs of being there more acutely over time. My life has steadily provided more reasons to allot that time elsewhere.
Meeting and marrying a brilliant woman out of my league - I’d like more time to thank her for the privilege.
Having our daughter and then our son, watching them transform from pooping dependent blobs into real people who love nothing more than to take a hike with me or throw on a wetsuit to join me in the waves and later whip me at chess with a move I honestly didn’t see coming. They won’t feel that way forever.
I derive great pleasure from connecting online with the FI community and finding folks who share our priorities. I relish a well-written piece of fiction that reveals some new truth about the human experience. I love a quiet gray morning kayaking where I find myself unexpectedly in the center of a pod of dolphins on the hunt.
I’m an ER doc, and the people I care for don’t choose to be there, are angry or tired or confused, a subset struggle with addiction or severe mental health issues, and the nights and weekends are a grind. The hard part is I still like what I do - I just realize (and the job only reinforces this) that we all have limited time - and there are still quite a few versions of my potential self I’d like to bring to try into being.
Despite many challenges in medicine, I still like most aspects of my work - I take care of whoever needs me, I’ll always raise my hand on the plane when help is needed. It’s just that the professional identity ranks perhaps seventh on the list of who I am, and I want to give those other six people the time they deserve.
Enjoy yourself - it’s later than you think…