I cried this morning. A lot. I was sobbing actually. However, it wasn’t because of my break-up. I still mourn a lot of the loss I’ve had over the past two years, don’t get me wrong. But this morning I was crying because of clarity. Something made sense. The dots connected so to speak.

For context, I made a brief reference that I had a business mentor in one of my previous posts. Our first meeting was last week. He wanted to get a feel for my goals, my mindset, my drive, and my ability to be taught and openness to changing my beliefs and perceptions of people and events.

At the end of that meeting we scheduled another one tomorrow, and he gave me a book to read. He said if I couldn’t take time to sit down and read the book in the course of 7 days then we wouldn’t be able to move forward. He said reading the book would ensure that we are on the same page before he began coaching me.

This morning, I read the book. I finished the entire thing in 45 minutes, actually. However, by the end of the book, I was sobbing. Uncontrollably almost. Why would a book make me sob? Well, the book is called the “The 12 Pillars”. It is a fictional story about a gentleman named Michael.

Michael is a 40-year-old salesman who is exhausted by his job, frustrated with constantly trying to have a life outside of making income for it just to be taken by another bill, in a failing marriage with a wife who is distant and overwhelmed with the relationship, and two kiddos that he barely knows or has the time to interact with.

Michael’s car breaks down on a winding road he has never been on before. He has no cell service, and there isn’t a house in sight. Ahead of him there is a bend in the road that he can’t see around, so he starts walking in that direction to see if there is help around that bend.

When he walks past the bend, he sees a massive mansion. The kind that most of us only dream of. The mansion has 12 two story pillars, and is perfectly maintained, and surrounded by a massive wrought iron and brick gate.

Michael is unsure of whether he can even get help at this point, but he decides to walk up to the gate. As he does, an old man with a kind demeanor dressed in coveralls walks towards him. The older gentleman (the caretaker of the grounds) listens as Michael explains his situation.

The older gentleman, who we later learn is Charlie, helps Michael with his car. On the walk to his car Michael and Charlie talk and Charlie tells Michael about the owner of the mansion, Mr. Davis, and his “12 Pillars”. Charlie tells Michael the first pillar, and Michael is intrigued. He is confused on how these “12 Pillars” will help him be successful.

Over the next few months Michael and Charlie continue to meet, and Charlie continues to explain the pillars one by one.

I read this and found each chapter more and more helpful. But when I got to the last one, is when the waterworks started. In one of my posts yesterday, I was grappling with the concept of my purpose. I was struggling with accepting that such a critical part of my dreams in life was gone and gone permanently.

Having a partner and children were something I had wanted since I was a child, but that opportunity is gone permanently as far as I can tell. I did not know how to make sense of that, or how to move forward. However, the 12th Pillar was about leaving a legacy.

The language in this chapter was so similar to the mindset that I have had for years but found very few people who thought the same way. Specifically, in regard to the mindset regarding the purpose of wealth. Paraphrasing the book, in the process of building wealth, it is imperative to understand that the wealth was never for us. I feel that it is necessary to quote the book exactly on this next part.

“The brevity of life is its biggest surprise, Michael.”

“… We are but breezes of wind that blow through this world. Here one day, gone the next. No one knows how long they will live. You cannot choose how long you will live, Michael, but you can choose how well you live.” – Charlie, from “The Twelve Pillars”

I’ve made brief mention a couple of times in previous posts to an elevator. I had a reoccurring dream as a child that I was on an elevator. Each floor was a stage of life. I’d watch people get off on their floor smiling, laughing, and happy. All the while, while I had the option to get off, I kept waiting. I kept thinking “Oh, if I wait for the next floor it will be something better than the last”.

I’d pass up on careers, family, friends, love, meaning, purpose, and dreams waiting for the “best” floor. Eventually, as the elevator kept going up fewer and fewer people remained. Until I was the last one. And when I was the last one and I saw the last floor coming up I was so excited. I was thinking “Oh, this is it! It’s what I have been waiting for!”

And when the doors opened, there was nothing. Just a blank concrete room. No warmth from spending Christmas with a family of my own. No smiles and laughter at a funny TV show. No kids laughter and adorable two-year-old accents. No wife smiling at me as she walked down the aisle happy that I was the one she’d get to marry. No dreams, no starry-eyed goals. Just a blank room with a balcony that had a beautiful sunrise, with the city to far below to hear a sound other that the gentle whisper of the breeze.

For years I was afraid that dream would be my reality. And now, it actually is. I am alone, on that last floor, with nothing but the breeze and my own thoughts to comfort me. But what I never realized about that floor, the one thing it did grant me, was perspective. Not only could I see the world with more clarity than any of those other floors, but I know the value of the things I gave up. The things I lost because I simply wasn’t ready for the gift that they were at that time in my life.

All of those seasons that passed by and that I didn’t appreciate while I was living in them. The one thing that didn’t make sense in that dream was that I could still furnish that floor. Even thought I would never interact with another human for the rest of my living life; I could still choose what my situation was. I could still choose to make the most of what I had.

The first quote in that book that really sent my brain into a tailspin was, “Discipline weighs ounces, regret weighs tons.” I have a lot of regrets. I have lost so many blessings in my 24 years of life because I simply didn’t appreciate them. I just wanted the next best thing, I wanted more. What I had was never enough.

I am sincerely mourning everything I have lost over the past decade of my life. The vast majority of which I will never see the likes of again. I already have regrets that weigh tons. Crushing regrets that are crushing me to the point that sometimes I simply can’t breathe.

But even though I am at the top floor, I still have a choice. Take what I have, the perspective that I have, and make the most of it, or continue mourning my losses and pass every opportunity to still leave a legacy.

Don’t get me wrong, I will mourn the loss of those things for the rest of my life. I read a quote once that went something like, “Grief is love with nowhere to go”. I’ve mentioned that I will likely be single for the rest of my life. That is by choice. I fell in love with someone who invested everything she had to give into me. And I lost it.

I don’t want to go searching around the floor for another partner like that. That time has passed for me. In that sense my hour has come. However, I do not know how much time I have left in this life. The book said (paraphrasing here) “A day spent is a day we will never get back”. I will always mourn the loss, but I have learned so many lessons in the last decade, and been granted so much perspective, that most people don’t have until the are well into their 50’s.

Even my own mother, in her 40’s, when I tell her the lessons life has gifted me, says, “I am almost 50 and am still learning that”. I may never have the opportunity to have that relationship again, but I can’t spend time sitting on my hands crying. Time is slipping by too quickly, I have too much to do, and too many people my age that maybe, just maybe, I can use these lessons, tools, and resources that I am learning and growing to save them the pain that I have experienced.

I have done so many things wrong. So, so many. But I can’t accept the cost of wasting the precious time I have left doing nothing but eating ice cream and crying. There are too many people who need help. Too many people who are struggling who could benefit from the lessons I had to learn the hard way. My legacy is sitting in front of me right now. I can’t sit here and do nothing. People are hurting, people need help. Discipline weighs ounces, regret weighs tons. I am not going to pile more tons onto my chest on my deathbed. I chose this floor. I am damn sure not going to waste my time not helping people with the tools it gave me.

I choose discipline. I am no longer a slave to regret.