Life by Design / Not Default

Every so often, the idea of starting again becomes particularly appealing. A different job, a quieter life, fewer responsibilities or the freedom to spend our days a little differently. We imagine what it might feel like to step away from the things that occupy so much of our time and begin again on our own terms. There is something reassuring about the thought. A fresh start offers the possibility that, somewhere beyond our current circumstances, there is a version of life that feels easier, more interesting or simply more our own.

And sometimes, of course, a change of direction is exactly what is needed.

I have often wondered, however, whether our desire to leave something behind comes from wanting something different, or whether it sometimes comes from wanting to experience what we already have just a little differently.

The distinction is worth considering because, while we spend a great deal of time thinking about the life we might lead, instead we give rather less thought to the countless possibilities within the version we’re currently living.

The assumption that more is better

In many areas of life, we grow accustomed to the idea that progress equates to happiness, and progress usually means moving forward. In our working lives, this tends to have a fairly recognisable shape: more responsibility, greater seniority, a larger salary or the next opportunity to prove ourselves. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these things. Ambition can be rewarding, and the desire to develop, achieve and contribute is hardly something to be discounted.

Somewhere along the way, however, progression can become an expectation in its own right. We pursue the next step because it is there, because it is what we have worked towards, or because standing still can feel uncomfortably like falling behind while our colleagues and friends continue to press forward. In most competitive, high-performing environments, stepping outside our comfort zone while we press onto the next level is encouraged.

What’s interesting, however, is how rarely we stop to consider what the next step will mean, and whether it will actually improve our lives.

A promotion might bring greater influence but leave less time for the work and projects we enjoy. A more senior position might offer financial rewards alongside responsibilities that take us further away from family, friends or external interests that matter to us. The career we once imagined for ourselves may continue to advance long after our reasons for pursuing it have changed.

And perhaps this way of thinking extends beyond work. We can become equally attached to the idea of a bigger house, more elaborate holidays, a fuller social calendar or the next milestone that suggests we are moving in the right direction. None of these things are inherently undesirable, but it is possible to spend a great deal of time building towards a life without pausing to consider how much we enjoy the one we’re already living along the way.

Perhaps there is a point at which success needs a broader definition — Not because ‘achieving’ matters any less, but because it is only one part of life in the larger scheme of things.

What if enough were enough?

There is an interesting freedom in the possibility of deciding that we have arrived at enough — Enough responsibility. Enough professional recognition. Enough financial reward to live comfortably and pursue the things that matter to us.

For someone who has spent years building a career, this might mean remaining in a role they enjoy rather than pursuing a promotion. For another, it could mean voluntarily stepping into a less senior position, accepting a different salary in exchange for greater flexibility, or choosing work that leaves more room for life outside it.

These are not necessarily easy decisions, nor are they available to everyone. Financial commitments, family responsibilities and the realities of employment all shape the choices we have available to make. But the possibility itself is worth acknowledging. We tend to speak about career progression as though it has a natural direction, with each step taking us closer to an ultimate destination. We speak less often about arriving at a place that suits us and making an active decision to stay.

There is no universal answer to what a successful working life, or life for that matter, should look like. For some, it will always involve new challenges and greater responsibility. For others, the appeal may eventually lie in becoming very good at what they do, enjoying the work itself and having the time and energy to pursue other interests and projects.

Neither represents a lesser ambition — They simply reflect different ideas about life and how to spend it.

Perhaps there is something reassuring about recognising that we do not have to keep wanting more of everything. We can appreciate what we have achieved without needing to turn it into the starting point for another pursuit. We can enjoy the home we live in without immediately imagining the next one, or take pleasure in a familiar routine without feeling that it needs to be replaced by something more exciting.

There is a difference between being content and standing still — One is a feeling; the other is an assumption we can make about it. We can be perfectly content with certain parts of our lives while remaining curious about others.

Life within working life

Perhaps the question is not always whether we want to continue working as we do, but what and how we want our work to contribute to the rest of our lives. It’s easy to compartmentalize work and refer to this part of life as something that takes us away from the things we would rather be doing. Yet work can also offer intellectual engagement, companionship, a sense of contribution and the satisfaction of contributing our skills. It can be a source of enjoyment in its own right, even when it is not our sole source of meaning.

Sometimes, the work is not the problem so much as the space it’s come to occupy in our lives.

It is after all, possible to enjoy a career while wishing it demanded a little less of us, to take pride in what we do without wanting or needing our work to define us, and to appreciate the security and opportunities work provides while recognising there are other things we would like to make room for.

Perhaps there is also something to be said for rediscovering the parts of work we enjoy, rather than measuring the experience entirely by what comes next. The pleasure of solving a problem, the satisfaction of a job well done, the exchange of ideas with a good colleague or contributing to a project beyond the immediate boundaries of our role. These things may not appear on a career plan, but they are often part of what makes working life worthwhile.

We do not necessarily need to find a new purpose, a different profession or an entirely new version of ourselves. Sometimes, a different relationship with what we already do can be meaningful in its own right.

The things that make a life feel like ours

Outside work, we can be just as prone to postponing the things we enjoy. We wait for a quieter period before connecting with friends ‘properly’, for a holiday to make time for ourselves, or for life to feel a little less busy before returning to an interest we neglected. We can become so accustomed to organising our days around what needs to be done that the things we simply want to do begin to feel like optional luxuries.

Yet a life is made up of considerably more than its milestones. Much of what makes it enjoyable happens in the spaces between them: the people we see regularly, the places we return to, the interests that hold our attention and the small rituals that give a day shape and contrast.

These things rarely look particularly impressive from the outside. They may not lead to a new skill, an achievement or anything we can point to as evidence of progress. Their value is often much simply we simply enjoy them and they dont need to be announced. They give us something to look forward to, something to become absorbed in, or a reason to step outside the usual demands of the day.

There is something to be said for having interests that do not need to become anything more than interests. Reading without keeping a list of books to finish, learning something without needing to master it, walking a familiar route because we like being there, rather than because it contributes to a fitness goal. Making time for people without having to turn every catch-up into an occasion.

Perhaps we underestimate these ordinary pleasures because they do not fit particularly neatly into the language of achievement. They are difficult to quantify, and there is no obvious next step. But they can be the very things that make our days feel full in a way that has little to do with how much we have accomplished.

This is not to suggest that a good life should be endlessly leisurely or that we should abandon the responsibilities that come with it. There will always be practical things to attend to, and not every part of life needs to be enjoyable to be worthwhile, but perhaps the balance is worth considering, particularly when the things that bring us pleasure are so often the first to be deferred.

A life does not necessarily become richer because we add more to it — Sometimes, life becomes richer because we simply give it more attention.

A different kind of freedom

The fantasy of leaving everything behind will probably always have its appeal. There are times when we need distance, change or the courage to acknowledge that a particular chapter has run its course. Perhaps freedom is not always found in departure, but rather, in no longer feeling obliged to pursue every opportunity. In allowing a career to become more settled rather than continually more demanding. In finding pleasure in work that is familiar, or in recognising that a job can be valuable without being a vocation.

It might mean earning less in order to have more time, where circumstances permit. It might mean continuing to pursue an ambitious career, but with a clearer sense of what we want it to make possible elsewhere in our lives. Subsequently, it might have very little to do with work at all, and more to do with the way we spend our weekends, the people we make time for or the interests we choose to invest.

None of these choices needs to be a statement about how anyone else should live. They are simply reminders that there is no single trajectory we must follow, and that the measures by which we judge success can change as do we.

Perhaps designing a life is not about getting everything right, or arriving at some carefully constructed ideal, but rather allowing our idea of a fulfilling life to evolve and recognise that what we want today may look quite different from what we once imagined.

If you find yourself in a season of ‘what ifs’ and are partial to a good read, I recommend picking up The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. It explores the many lives we might have lived, and the complicated relationship between possibility, regret and the life that is actually ours.

We may not need to escape the life we have in order to begin making it our own.