If there’s one lesson I’ve learned over the years, it’s this: most of the decisions, arguments, and daily inconveniences we fret about don’t matter nearly as much as we think they do. Life has a way of teaching us what truly matters—and what doesn’t.
I used to be very opinionated about everything (I still am really). Be it music, politics, parenting styles, or just the right way to load the dishwasher, I’d jump at any chance to dive headfirst into a debate. And if someone disagreed with me? That was my cue to double down, defend my stance, and prove my point. Keeping my cool has never been my strong suit, so too often, those debates ended with me resorting to insults. The same drama would play out every time: I’d end up angry, stressed, and wondering why I even cared—not to mention that others weren’t thrilled with the outcome either.
I still catch myself thinking most people are idiots. But the truth is, we all have idiotic moments—myself included. I’ve come to realize that everyone’s just trying their best, even if we stumble more often than not (and I stumble a lot).
Looking back, I realize that most of those debates didn’t matter. Winning the argument didn’t make my life better; more often than not, it left me feeling drained, disconnected, and on someone’s bad side. Over time, I’ve gotten better at keeping my cool and understanding how insignificant most of life’s decisions and disagreements really are.
I still get annoyed when someone dangerously cuts me off in traffic, for example (seriously, fuck that guy), but I’m getting better at reminding myself that most of the time it doesn’t matter. In the grand scheme of things, giving up a car length during my commute has absolutely no impact on my life. So why waste energy stressing over it?
The same applies when something “bad” happens. A broken appliance, a day that doesn’t go as planned, a cranky kid, a mistake at work—sure, it’s frustrating in the moment. Things break. Most days are just days. Kids are kids. And work is hard. Hell, life is hard. But when I look back days, weeks, or months later, I often realize it, whatever it was, didn’t matter at all. That’s life, man.
Parenting, in particular, has taught me the value of letting go. When you’ve got kids, life is full of spills, scrapes, fights, and all kinds of chaos. I used to get angry—really angry. Not all the time, but often enough that I felt guilty about it. I’d be a great dad 99% of the time, but I know that 1%—the shit-for-brains dad who yelled, lost his patience, and made them cry over things that didn’t matter—left its mark on my kids. A spilled glass of milk or a kid who won’t just go to sleep isn’t the end of the world, but in those moments, I acted like it was.
Now, I try to remind myself: It doesn’t matter. Instead of reacting with frustration, I focus on what I can teach them. If they spill something, I’ll help them clean it up. If they make a mistake, I’ll show them how to fix it. The energy I used to spend on anger is now spent on guidance—and it’s made all the difference in my relationship with my kids (and my wife).
Of course, some things do matter. Teaching my kids the difference between right and wrong matters. Making decisions that align with my values and long-term goals matters. Dealing with a gaslighting boss? That matters too. Supporting my team at work through big mistakes and existential threats to our livelihoods matters a lot. But when those things happen, I try not to dwell on the problem itself.
Here’s the key: I focus my energy on the correction instead of the cause. If my kids mess up, I don’t dwell on the mistake—I help them learn from it. When faced with a big decision, I weigh my options carefully and move forward without second-guessing myself. And if a mistake happens at work, whether it’s mine or a colleague’s, I focus on finding a solution. By channeling my energy toward what truly matters, I’ve discovered more clarity and peace in my everyday life.
That said, this approach comes with a downside that needs to be managed. My newfound ability to better control my reactions—or lack of them—often comes across as apathy. When others see me staying calm (or not reacting) in the face of something they think is a big deal, they assume I don’t care. And honestly? They’re not entirely wrong. I don’t care—because, in most cases, it really doesn’t matter. But pretending to care? That’s tough for me to do, so I to my best to at least acknowledge the situation with some thoughtfulness. Sometimes, just a simple “Yeah, that’s frustrating,” is enough to let someone know I’m not dismissing them. I’m not perfect at it, but I’m trying.
Life is too short to sweat the small stuff. So take a step back and ask yourself, Does this really matter? If the answer is no, let it go. If the answer is yes, focus your energy on what you can do about it. Most of the things we worry about won’t matter in a week, a month, or even a year—so why waste your time and energy? Save it for the things that truly matter—and let the rest go.