What are the rules of your game?

Not racing, but playing. (Image by BioPic Photos)

A friend of mine has three beautiful children, including a newborn.

She already has a PhD, but now she's going for an MBA.

My friend also lives in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

Understandably, this friend is a bit stressed out. But I'd be completely unable to offer advice to help her reduce the stress in her life. That's because she's playing a totally different game than I am, with different rules.

Whereas I learn from books, podcasts, videos, conferences, and conversation, she learns from university courses.

Whereas I try to use what I already have to build my career, she strives for additional credentials and greater status.

And if I had a newborn, there's no way I'd be in school. But then, I wouldn't be in school, period.

I'm not saying that my way isn't better than my friend's. Which one is better really depends on the rules of the game you're playing.

According to my rules, you win if you get the evening off and a good night's sleep.

In her rules, the more you achieve, you win.

These are such fundamentally incompatible perspectives that it's hard for my friend and I to understand each other. I know I couldn't live the way she lives—I'd be exhausted. I'm just not motivated enough to want to work that hard.

I'm not sure how she would see my life—I imagine she'd be bored or dissatisfied with it.

Fortunately, my friend and I don't have to swap lives, so none of this is a problem. We're not even asking each other for advice. We exist in our separate ecosystems, on our respective journeys. I can like her and admire her without having to be her.

On the other hand, the contrast between my friend's life and mine points to an important truth: For many of us, our circumstances are based on the rules of the game we're playing. If we don't like those circumstances, we can change our rules.

Back when we were kids playing on the playground, we made up or adapted games together all the time. We knew the rules were malleable as long as everyone agreed. We can revisit that mindset now, as adults, whenever we need to. If we're miserable, worn out, disheartened, or losing hope, we can adjust the rules we're playing by.

Is it cheating to tell yourself that you don't have to become a lawyer even though you went to the trouble of going to law school, or to buy gift cards for the people on your list instead of going shopping? Well, when you're the only one playing the game, you get to decide. You're the player, the umpire, and the referee. You call your own lines.

I told you I was doing NaNoWriMo, right? Well, I decided about halfway through the month that I didn't want to continue. I could have forced myself to do it, or not done it and felt guilty. In the end, I chose to not do it and to not feel guilty. My game, my rules. I'm proud of the words I did write and what I learned. I'm equally proud of the things I chose to do this month instead of writing a novel.

Some of our choices are so entrenched that it's hard to renegotiate them. We may have other people depending on us; we can't always instantly change our minds and do something different. But the actions we take are only part of the story. Even if we can't radically alter our circumstances, our thoughts and beliefs can begin to shift based on the rules we adopt. If the ones we have aren't working for us, we can test others.

What are the rules of your game? Are they working for you? Do they bring you joy and satisfaction? Do they make you eager to get out of bed in the morning? Do they let you rest easy at night? Do they help you to show up for others in a way that you feel good about? By my rules, if you're having fun, keep doing what you're doing; if you're not, you're allowed to call a time out and make some tweaks. There's no way you can lose.