The Exhaustingly Urgent Pressure to “Live Every Day Like it’s Your Last”

And how to reframe this idea

Words by Miranda Ryan

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Experiencing the traumatic death of my husband at aged 35 and then being diagnosed with stage three cancer two years later, has meant the fragility of life, possibility of death, and my own mortality is fairly top of mind.

As we know, life is short and there are no guarantees. The idea that it could all be over in an instant is ever present for me in my day-to-day life. I struggle with the feeling that at any moment my life will become untethered again through a significant loss, health crisis, or some new fun unknown disaster. I worry that once again the ground will shift out from under me; that I will lose my sense of self and have to rebuild; or that my time will be up with no second chances. This knowing is ever-present for me and impacts the way I live my life.

As a result, I feel like I need to make every moment count, as it could be the last. We’ve all heard the phrase, “live every day as if it’s your last”, and I’ve taken that to heart in many ways. This can have positive impacts. I know every day is precious and I don’t take it for granted. I’m grateful for the special people in my life, opportunities I receive, and my health.

However, living my life with this focus also has downsides. While it ensures I practice gratitude and appreciate the miracle of life, the flip side of it is that it all makes everything feel rather… urgent.

Live every day like it’s your last… or ELSE!1

I’m urgently trying to have meaningful connections with loved ones, live in integrity with my values, and accomplish my goals. I’m trying to squeeze meaning and connection out of every moment. To enjoy the specialness of every dinner with friends and every family get-together. All while being acutely aware of a ticking time clock and that my life or that of the people I love could be over at any moment. That everything could change in an instant. This beloved person smiling at me could be dead tomorrow. That I might not see the next sunrise.

It’s exhausting.

And in many ways, this pressure to live life to the fullest has the opposite intended effect. Instead of encouraging me to live larger, it can leave me crippled with anxiety over how to spend my precious moments. Bridled with fear that I’m not doing “enough”. And paralysed into inaction with worry that it could all be over soon because I’m always preparing for the worst.

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Sometimes choice can be paralyzingly overwhelming

It also makes it challenging to look into the future. I’ve found it difficult to plan anything more than a few weeks in advance because I don’t trust it. Planning trips, even to visit my family, felt impossible. Planning a vacation just for fun was out of the realm of possibility. Long term projects such as writing my book felt out of reach – how could I spend these precious last moments on something that I wouldn’t be alive to complete?

Even buying groceries felt loaded.

I have a vivid memory from the time after my cancer had been discovered, but before we knew the stage. The dreaded unknown, of “we know it’s bad, we just don’t quite know how bad just yet”. I needed tea bags. On the shelf there was a great deal on a box of 1000 tea bags. I was torn. I love a good deal. But 1000 tea bags seemed rather… optimistic. And I couldn’t bear the thought of hundreds of tea bags outliving me, left there for my loved ones to deal with. I opted for the more sensible 80 packet of a tea I love (Yorkshire Gold). This seems rather dramatic now, knowing what happened next2, but it was true for me at the time.

I never thought buying tea bags would trigger an existential crisis but here we are.

It’s not an ideal way to live.

Recently I found this this conversation between Adam Grant and Suleika Jaouad that gave me pause.3

Why I live each day like it’s my first with Suleika Jaouad

Grant notes how if everyone lived as if it were their last day, “nothing meaningful would ever be accomplished”. Exactly! No winter bulbs would ever be planted for the spring. No artist would hone their craft. No pantry would ever get stocked (and we might run out of tea).

Regarding the advice that Jaouad received from her oncologist to “live every day as if you’re your last”, she says:

“It’s the worst advice…When I’m living every day as if it’s my last, it’s so much pressure. I’m trying to make every dinner as meaningful as possible. I’m trying to squeeze the juice out of every moment and that is just a spiritually exhausting way to move through your life.

So instead, I’m trying to live every day as if it’s my first. To wake up with a sense of curiosity and playfulness and wonder that a little kid might… It’s not about crossing off these big bucket list items. It really grounds me in the present.”

Spiritually exhausting. Oof yes!

This discussion made me reflect on how I’ve been living my life with this pressure. And rethink how helpful and sustainable it is.

Living like it’s your first day also calls for presence, which is to me the opposite of worry. And it also keeps the future open for planning, hopes and dreams.

So I’m carrying forward this piece of wisdom into this new year. A time that, for me and many others, the ticking clock can really come into focus in terms of how we spent the last year and what the hopes are for the year ahead.

Instead of trying to live every day like it’s my last, I will try to live every day like it’s my first, with curiosity, playfulness, joy, and even a little hope for the future.

As for the tea bags? I look out for them on special and stock up then. Hopefully planning that I’ll be around long enough to get through this supply. Life’s too short to drink bad tea. And it’s also too short to be lived under urgent impossible pressure to maximize every moment.

What about you?

If you’ve experienced an out of order loss, maybe you’ve felt this too? Even if you haven’t experienced a big loss, perhaps you’re all too aware of the preciousness of life and worry steals your ability to be present and feel joy. Is there anything that helps you navigate this feeling?

  1. Is it just me, or does this advice have a certain unspoken threat behind it? ↩︎
  2. Spoiler alert, I’m still alive and nearly three years post treatment and cancer free! ↩︎
  3. I highly recommend the full 40 minute video or podcast, however if you have a short attention span like me here is a shorter clip from their conversation. ↩︎

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Hey, I'm Miranda

Miranda Ryan Author

Miranda Ryan is an Australian Canadian living in Canada who, at 35, experienced the devastating death of her beloved husband. Now a grief advocate, she writes about young widowhood, stigmatized loss, supporting grievers and other hard things. Find her on SubstackInstagram
Bluesky, Facebook and in your local park, looking at birds.

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