Choice.

Choice.

It’s a funny thing, choice.  From the second we wake up to the second we go to sleep each night, we choose at least 50 things that we may or may not even think about.  This isn’t a novel concept, but it is something I hadn’t really given much thought to, until recently.

Philip Seymour Hoffman died today.  It has been listed as a heroin overdose.  In a somewhat ironic twist, I found out about his death while at a breakfast listening to a man discuss his 28 years of sobriety in a hotel conference room with 3,000 other people.  In the middle of his talk, my friend tapped me on the shoulder and said in hush tones, “Oh my gosh, look!” She then proceeded to show me the ticker on her phone from CNN announcing the sad and confusing loss of one of the finest actors of our generation.

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Celebrity deaths don’t often get to me.  I am always saddened by early losses of life, sure, but I don’t think much of them when I did not have a personal relationship with the deceased.  I do think they can be important to shed light on the powerful world of addiction, but I don’t typically feel connected.  Yet, for some reason, I was and am incredibly sad about this loss of life.

Vulnerably, Hoffman admitted (during an interview with the 60 Minutes) that he was an addict and got sober at 22 years old.  He said he was scared for his own life.

And, that made me wonder.

Why don’t I live life like I’m scared that it might end?  Not in an excuse to be more contained or protected, but to do precisely the opposite?  Why don’t I get that 3rd tattoo that is going to be visible when my others are not?  Why don’t I take those trips to Bali and Australia I have been talking about?  Why do I stay in painful situations that I agreed to against my better judgment long after I should leave?  Why do I accept less than the best from myself or others?

I’m partially in this reflective state because my mom has a scary surgery coming up and my friend’s father recently died.  He was only in his early 60’s and my mom is only in her early 60’s.  As I watch friends lose parents or young loved ones pass away, I’m humbled.  I also feel as if I am receiving a swift kick in the ass.    Either start living my life in a positive, healthy way with people that support and love me as the cast of characters that I get to choose, or feel shame for wasting this opportunity.

Look, I realize that it’s annoying to be around the person that it always positive and that has a zest for life, but being around the alternative is even worse.  Either we DO this life we’ve been blessed to have, or we wait – We wait in line for life to pass us by while paying our taxes on time as if that were a marker for a life well lived.

Charlie-Brown-and-Snoopy

I’ve been Charlie Brown.  It’s time to be a snack eating, ass sitting Snoopy (who is, for the record, kind of an asshole).

Mr. Hoffman was a man suffering alone, and he had a family, a loving wife, kids, and millions of fans.  When addicts die, they don’t usually die during a parade of fanfare in his/her honor.  Usually, a lot of judgement comes out of these deaths saying it is a “choice” to be addicted.  If only it were that simple, we could just tell them to stop choosing to use, and all would be right with the world.  The disease isn’t the choice – the recovery is.

Some super positive things that have come out of this are admissions such as this one by Bradley Cooper or this one by Corrigan Vaughan.  Beautiful, honest, and real discussions of addiction and the life that can easily slip away, no matter how much money one has.

Moral of the story – Pay your taxes…seriously.  This wasn’t supposed to be about not doing that, so do it.  But also – take the trip and quit the damn job.