Stop Being Pissed Off About Your Life

This morning, I did what I usually do when I wake up.

I grab my phone, check all of my notifications, and start thinking about work—what my first meeting is and whether I’m going to shower before it or not.

Not too long after that, I sit up, swing my legs over the bed, put my socks on, and walk to the kitchen to make coffee. After I get the coffee going, I reach above the fridge for the container of dry cat food.

In it, I keep a 1/4 measuring cup. I take the top off, measure just enough dry food, and put it in William Wallace’s dish. He doesn’t come eat it right away. He would rather have his mommy pick him up and hold him first thing in the morning, no matter how hungry he might be.

From there, I walk to the living room and turn on all three lamps, starting to the right and working my way to the left. When I turn the second lamp on, I also turn on my Bluetooth speaker. I pull up Spotify on my phone and go to one of my morning playlists, usually starting with a favorite song (lately it's one by Coldplay).

Then I walk into my office, turn the lamp on, wiggle the mouse to bring the monitors on, and start thinking about what I need to do for work that day.

By then, the coffee’s almost ready. I go back to the kitchen and grab my favorite little bunny mug, which I found years ago in my grandmother’s attic. It’s an old mug with a Bunnykins seal on the bottom and little illustrations of bunnies eating ice cream and jumping through a field.

I come back to my desk with my coffee.

And now I am ready.

But this morning, something didn’t feel the same.

As I started trying to get into work, I felt this pull in my heart because yesterday I had a conversation with Roy Brewster that I just can’t seem to get out of my head.

Roy did what the guests on my show do best—and it’s why I invite them on. He showed up fully as himself, willing to be vulnerable and share his stories and his perspectives. And it felt incredibly meaningful, especially yesterday.

I think it’s because Roy carries a level of wisdom that you only get after living a long span of life. He’s eighty years old now, and if you were to close your eyes while talking with him, you wouldn’t think you were talking to someone who is eighty. You might think forty, or fifty. Maybe even twenty.

Especially after the wonderful remarks on my good looks.

But Roy said something toward the end of the show that really felt profound—so profound that I wanted to write this. For him, but also for me, and for anyone who’s reading.

When I asked him what else he wanted our listeners to know, he said: Stop being pissed off about your life. And just be happy.

He went on to explain that he has one big regret—how much time he spent being unhappy with his situation, unhappy with his parents. And how, looking back now, he realizes how lucky he was.

How lucky he was to have a dad who was active and involved. How lucky he was to have a mom who was a caretaker and a teacher. How lucky he was to have adventures as a kid, to be able to go outside. How lucky he is to have treated patients in the North Country for over fifty years.

There are moments in conversation where something shifts in you before you can even respond.

That’s what happened to me.

If you were to listen to the episode, you would hear me go completely silent. Eventually, I said I was speechless, that I didn’t have anything to add. And the reason is that suddenly, Roy had held up a mirror to me.

I was seeing all of the moments of my life where I felt bitter that something had happened, or bitter that someone had done something to me, or bitterness that I had made a certain decision. All of those moments came flooding into my mind.

And my mind and my heart were working together to say, “Amanda, these are all the moments you need to let go of. And you need to be grateful for your life.”

One of the big moments that came up for me was from when I was ten years old.

That was the year my parents made the decision to uproot our family and eventually move us to Ecuador.

At ten years old, you don’t really have context for something like that. You just know your life is changing in a way you didn’t choose. You’re leaving behind what’s familiar—your friends, your routines, your sense of home—and stepping into something completely unknown.

And for a long time, I held onto that experience through the lens of what was taken from me. There was a part of me that felt bitter about it, that questioned it, that didn’t fully make peace with it.

And sitting there yesterday, listening to Roy talk about his life, I realized I’ve been carrying that story in a very specific way.

Because the truth is, that experience gave me so much.

It gave me perspective. It gave me adaptability. It gave me the ability to walk into unfamiliar environments and figure things out. It shaped the way I see the world and the way I connect with people.

And yet, for years, I held onto the version of the story that focused on what I lost instead of what I gained.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

And I was reminded through Roy to start thinking differently about my life—to imagine myself forty years from now, looking back and saying what he said:

Don’t be pissed off, Amanda.

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Live your life.

Be grateful.

Be happy.

What struck me most wasn’t just the realization itself, but how quickly my mind found evidence.

So many moments. So many places where I had been holding onto something that no longer needed to be held.

And I don’t think that comes from a place of weakness. I think it comes from being human—from trying to make sense of things as they’re happening without the benefit of time or perspective.

But what Roy offered—what felt like such a gift—is the opportunity to borrow that perspective now.

Not forty years from now.

Now.

What would it look like to live your life today the way your eighty-year-old self would want you to?

What would you let go of? What would you stop carrying? What would you finally allow yourself to appreciate?

I don’t think this is about ignoring the hard parts of life or pretending everything is okay when it isn’t.

It’s about recognizing that two things can be true at the same time. Something can be difficult, and it can also be meaningful. Something can feel like a loss, and it can also be a gift.

And the story you choose to focus on will shape how you experience your life.

What a gift from Roy. And a beautiful reminder for all of us.

I’ve been sitting with this question since yesterday.

What are the moments in my life that I’m still holding with bitterness… that I could choose to see differently?

And maybe that’s the question I’ll leave you with too.

Not because there’s an easy answer.

But because there might be something on the other side of it worth finding.

-Amanda