ICYMI 👉
How are your New Year’s resolutions coming along?
Over the past two weeks, patients have shared their 2025 goals with me: to lose weight, drink less, or get fit. I’ve made my own resolutions, too—like getting to bed earlier, a simple change that could transform my mornings. But, truth be told, I’ve managed to get to sleep “on time” exactly one time—oof! Most nights, I default to factory settings: staying up too late, scrolling online, or planning the next day.
This weekend, as I reflected on my own resistance to change, I found myself thinking about my brother Harry, who died in July. His death changed the way I see time—how I use it, how I value it, and how I honor it.
The Week That Changed Everything
In the early morning of July 14, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. It was my mother calling. My brother Harry, whom I had seen just the day before, had been in a serious motor vehicle accident and had been airlifted from the highway to a trauma center. Despite receiving polite reassurances from the ICU doctor when I arrived at the hospital (It’s still very early… it’s so hard to know…), I took one look at Harry, lying in his hospital bed, intubated and sedated and badly banged up, and I knew this was it.
And it was. On July 16, my beautiful baby brother died at age 45, surrounded by family, with 12 sets of hands holding his lifeless body, sending him onward with heartache and love and stunned disbelief. My life had changed in an instant.
This past Sunday would have been Harry’s 46th birthday. As I sat down to write this newsletter, I realized how much Harry’s death has shaped my perspective over the last six months. Before we lost him, I thought I understood the preciousness of time. I’ve seen my kids grow up in a flash. I hear older patients reflect on how fast it goes. Heck, my job as a doctor centers around extending the time we have left. But it took losing Harry to jolt me out of complacency and remind me: This life is not a dress rehearsal. This Is It.
Using Time Wisely: Lessons for 2025
Time isn’t just about minutes and hours; it’s about meaning. Here are five practices I’m embracing to honor Harry’s memory and make the most of the time we’re given:
1. Turn Intentions into Actions
Resolutions are easy to make but hard to sustain. This year, I’m focusing on execution. Instead of lofty goals, I’m creating small, specific habits—like setting an alarm to remind me when it’s time to wind down for bed and texting my friend Molly each night at 10:30 pm to tell her I’ve succeeded in settling myself down with a book. Thank you, Molly, for holding me accountable to someone other than myself!
2. Audit Your Time
Where does your time go? Write down how you spend an average day or week. Be honest. It’s fascinating to see it on paper. For me, this has meant recognizing how much time I spend mindlessly scrolling on my phone, reading junk emails, and doing things at work that I could easily outsource to someone else. So, recently I silenced all my phone alerts, unsubscribed to various email lists, and created some better systems at the office. The mere act of making a conscious effort to redirect that energy felt good.
(Here is my family’s group text for proof!)
3. Let Go of Emotional Clutter
Grief has taught me that life is too short to carry unnecessary burdens. Whether it’s excess worry, unresolved guilt, or overthinking things that don’t warrant that kind of brain space, I’m learning to let go of what weighs me down. Yoga has helped me immensely with this process. For example, releasing myself from the burden of needing other people’s approval has allowed me, for example, to author this newsletter for the last five years and to write my first book (coming out next year). It’s freeing! I invite you to join me on this path.
4. Acknowledge the Trade-Offs
Every “no” is a “yes” to something else. Time and energy are finite, so it’s crucial to prioritize. It’s also important to document what you are gaining when you decide to say “no.” For example, one reason I stay up late at night is to catch up on the news. I’ve convinced myself that I need to know every single thing there is to know about [fill in the blank CEO-killer or natural disaster or political scandal]. But I don’t. So I’ve decided to trade being constantly “in the know” for a quieter brain before bedtime. Perhaps you, too, would benefit from recognizing the gains instead of dwelling on the sacrifices required to get there.
5. Focus on What Brings Meaning
My brother Harry loved spending time with my kids, listening to music, and laughing out loud with family and friends. His life wasn’t perfect, but it was full. In his honor, I’m making more time for the things that fill my days with joy, connection, and purpose. Harry’s death reminded me that time isn’t just about productivity and purpose; It’s about squeezing the juice out of life. Don’t get me wrong: I will still occasionally waste time on Instagram. And I will always cheerlead my patients who want to eat healthier and get fit. But sometimes it’s worth just reflecting on the most fundamental questions of all: Why are you alive in the first place? What gives you joy, pleasure, and meaning?
It turns out that being healthy isn’t just about the food you eat and how much you exercise; it’s about being intentional with the time we are given, to make the most out of our lives.
As you move through 2025, I invite you to join me in asking: Am I spending my time in a way that reflects what I truly value?
You don’t need to overhaul your life overnight. Start small. Choose one area to focus on this week. Audit your time, embrace a trade-off, or let go of something that’s no longer serving you.
Together, let’s vow to make 2025 the year we honor the gift of time by using it wisely. Are you in?
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are entirely my own. They do not reflect those of my employer, nor are they a substitute for advice from your personal physician.
I have a baby brother; I cannot imagine your pain. I am so sorry. Thank you for sharing your story. Your vulnerability and honesty are like a warm hug whenever I read your stories. Otherwise, yes - I’m in! I stopped watching ALL cable news the day after the election. Before I went to sleep the night before, upset, my conscience had a sit-down with me. It reminded me, “You know, you don’t have to watch the news. Remember the ‘old days,’ when everyone read the paper in the morning and then sometime before bed we watched the local news on TV? We talked about current events all day, and we were informed. If there was an emergency, it was broadcast on the radio or through an interruption of whatever we were watching on TV, and word traveled fast. Anxiety levels were not centered around minute, unimportant details that were repeated ad nauseam and made me irritated and irritable. Stop doing this to yourself. Take your sanity back.” And my conscience was right! Being in control of how and how much I take in the news has been a panacea to my aching heart. Headlines from my favorite news sources pop up on my phone during the day, and most of the time that’s all I need. If I want to click on it, that’s my choice. If I want to read it later, I save the article. And guess what? By reading, I am not only informed, but I know MORE about what’s going on than my clients (I’m a hairstylist) who use 24-hour news channels as background noise. There is way more happening in this world than what is repeated every single hour by a different host and a panel of “expert opinions” that I don’t need to hear. I have taken my sanity back, and it’s an act of self care I provide myself every day. As for getting enough sleep… that needs work. I love the idea of an alarm and being accountable to a trusted friend, thank you! (And whether or not anyone reads all this, thank you for allowing me the space to vent my thoughts! Apparently it was much needed.) I love your newsletter and appreciate you. 🥰
So sorry for your loss. I don't believe in forcing silver linings out of clouds (sometimes things are just awful and don't need an upside!) but there's no question that loss forces a clarity in how we spend our time. I too need to remind myself often that knowing everything (the infinite, tempting, pre-bed doom scroll) does not translate necessarily into agency and action (and sometimes begets the opposite).