Stop worrying about these 5 things (because they simply don’t matter in the long run)

You know what I’ve learned after six decades on this planet? We spend way too much time fretting over things that, when you look back, really didn’t matter all that much.

I was walking with Lottie the other day—my dog’s got this uncanny ability to live completely in the moment—when I started thinking about all the energy I’ve wasted over the years on worries that turned out to be nothing more than mental noise.

The truth is, most of what keeps us up at night won’t even register as a blip on our radar five years from now. Yet we torture ourselves with these concerns, letting them steal our peace and rob us of the present moment.

So let me share five things I’ve stopped worrying about, and why you might want to consider doing the same.

1. What other people think of your choices

I spent my thirties and forties way too concerned about whether my neighbors approved of my career moves, my parenting style, or even the car I drove. What a waste of mental energy that was.

Here’s the thing: most people are too busy worrying about their own lives to spend much time judging yours. And those who do? Well, their opinions say more about them than about you.

I remember when I decided to retire early and take up writing. You should have heard the comments at the office farewell party. “Writing? At your age?” “Shouldn’t you be thinking about your pension?” “Are you sure that’s wise?”

Fast forward a few years, and that same writing has brought me more joy and fulfillment than any corporate ladder I could have climbed. The people who doubted me? Most of them don’t even cross my mind anymore.

The reality is that everyone’s fighting their own battles. Your colleague who seems to have it all together is probably struggling with something you know nothing about. Your neighbor who appears to judge your lawn care is likely dealing with their own insecurities.

When you stop seeking approval from others, you free yourself to make choices that actually align with what matters to you. Trust me, the relief is incredible.

2. Being perfect at everything you do

Perfectionism nearly killed my enjoyment of life for years. I wanted to be the perfect employee, the perfect father, the perfect husband. The result? I was mediocre at all of them because I was too afraid to take risks or try new approaches.

My grandson asked me recently why I always seem so relaxed about making mistakes. I told him something I wish someone had told me decades ago: perfection is the enemy of progress.

Think about it—when was the last time you remembered someone fondly because they never made a mistake? We connect with people through their humanity, their willingness to be vulnerable, their ability to laugh at themselves when things go wrong.

I’ve written articles that weren’t my best work. I’ve had conversations with my grandchildren where I said the wrong thing. I’ve made financial decisions that didn’t pan out. And you know what? I’m still here, still learning, still growing.

The pursuit of perfection is really just fear dressed up as ambition. Fear of judgment, fear of failure, fear of not being enough. But here’s what I’ve discovered: “good enough” done consistently beats “perfect” that never gets finished.

3. Missing out on opportunities that weren’t meant for you

I used to torture myself about the job I didn’t get, the investment I didn’t make, the trip I didn’t take. If only I’d been braver, smarter, luckier—then my life would have been different.

But would it have been better? That’s the question I never asked myself.

Life has a funny way of working out. The job I didn’t get led me to stay at a company where I met my mentor. The investment I was too cautious to make? The company went under six months later. The trip I postponed? I ended up taking it with my grandchildren instead, creating memories that wouldn’t have existed otherwise.

We can’t see the full picture when we’re living it. What feels like a missed opportunity in the moment might actually be life protecting us from something that wasn’t right for us.

I’ve learned to trust the process more. When something doesn’t work out despite my best efforts, I try to stay curious rather than disappointed. What is this making space for? What am I being redirected toward?

This doesn’t mean becoming passive or giving up on goals. It means accepting that you can’t control every outcome, no matter how hard you try. And that’s actually liberating.

4. Your past mistakes defining your future

We’ve all got things we’d do differently if we could go back. Words we’d unsay, choices we’d unmake, chances we’d take. But here’s what I’ve learned: your past mistakes are not your permanent address.

I made plenty of parenting errors when my children were young. I was too rigid sometimes, too lenient others. I missed important moments because I was buried in work. I said things in frustration that I wish I could take back.

For years, I carried guilt about those mistakes. I worried they’d damaged my kids permanently, that I’d failed as a father. But you know what happened? My children grew up to be remarkable adults who love me despite my imperfections. They don’t define me by my worst moments—so why should I?

Your mistakes are data, not destiny. They’re information about what doesn’t work, stepping stones to better choices, teachers disguised as failures. The only real mistake is refusing to learn from them.

I watch my grandchildren now, and I see them making their own mistakes—small ones, age-appropriate ones. And I’m grateful for each one because I know they’re learning resilience, problem-solving, and the crucial life skill of bouncing back.

Don’t let your past keep you prisoner. Every day is a chance to write a new chapter.

5. Having everything figured out by a certain age

Society sells us this myth that we should have our lives mapped out by 30, settled by 40, and coasting by 50. What nonsense.

I’m in my sixties and I’m still figuring things out. I’m still learning, still growing, still discovering new things about myself and the world around me. And that’s not a failure—it’s what makes life interesting.

When I started writing, I had no idea if I’d be any good at it. I certainly didn’t have a five-year plan or a clear vision of where it would lead. I just knew it brought me joy and felt worth exploring.

Some of the most vibrant, alive people I know are the ones who embrace uncertainty. They try new things, ask questions, admit when they don’t know something. They understand that life is not a problem to be solved but an adventure to be lived.

The pressure to have it all figured out keeps us playing small. We stick with the familiar, even when it’s not fulfilling, because at least it’s predictable. But predictability is overrated.

Growth happens in the unknown. Magic happens when you’re willing to be a beginner again.

Final thoughts

The approval you’re seeking, the perfection you’re chasing, the opportunities you think you’ve missed—they’re all just stories we tell ourselves about what we need to be happy.

But happiness isn’t found in getting everything right. It’s found in accepting that you’re human, that you’re doing your best with what you have, and that’s enough.

What would you worry about less if you knew it wouldn’t matter in five years?