Here’s your daily dose of introspection: in today’s post I lean into our Thought of the Day and Question of the Day, exploring how we choose to live with purpose and when pain becomes a signal we can’t ignore. Buckle up — this one gets personal.
Thought of the Day
“Don’t live like there’s no tomorrow, that’s stupid. Live your life like it’s a story that you would want to tell someone else.”
I’ll admit, this thought slapped me awake. It’s blunt, a bit cheeky, but shot through with truth. We sometimes drift through days as though time is infinite, as though there will always be another chance to call that friend, chase that dream, or apologize. But when I read “that’s stupid,” I hear a friend nudging me: “Wake up. Don’t let regret hitch a ride on your story.”
Living with intention
I remember a time when I said “yes” to everything, trying to please, to fill every moment so it wouldn’t be wasted. But by doing so, I diluted my story into a bland blur: too many obligations, not enough meaning. I decided, slowly, to prune. To choose the yeses that mattered. To live with enough room that I’d later want to read back the chapters.
It doesn’t mean recklessness (though sometimes that’s fun). It means embracing risk in moderation, embracing vulnerability, honoring our loves, our fears, our failures. If your life were a story you’d someday hand to someone, a stranger, a child, a friend, what would you want them to know? I hope they’d see joy, scars, sorrow, and tenacious hope. I want the plot thick with “I tried,” not “I wondered what if.”
Living that way means showing up when I’m tired. Saying no when “yes” is easy but meaningless. Laughing in embarrassments. Caring deeply. Letting the walls down. And sometimes, letting tomorrow wait so we can write something real today.
Question of the Day
How much pain is too much pain?
Three days ago, I had a stiff neck. Two nights ago, the pain woke me up at 3 a.m. By 7 a.m. when the kids woke, I could barely move. I couldn’t give my son a piggyback ride down the stairs, and I needed Motrin just to drink my coffee. And so now I bring you the question. How much pain is too much pain?
Ow. Just writing typing this I can feel the tension through my neck, the hot snap of muscle protesting. Pain is such a paradox: sometimes our body’s signal that we need rest, sometimes that the damage is already done.
When pain is a messenger
Pain is not your enemy. It’s a messenger. It tells you when you’ve overstayed your welcome in a position, when your nervous system is fried, when you’ve ignored warning signs. But pain also lies sometimes, exaggerating, insisting on catastrophes that aren’t there. The trick is deciding when to believe it, and when to push through.
In my case, a stiff neck turned into something more. I ignored the early whispers (a crick, a twinge) because there were emails to send, kids to feed, chores never-ending. Then it screamed. That wake-up call at 3 a.m. told me: You crossed into too much. There’s a threshold. There has to be.
I grew up during a time when we would get hurt, and our parents, teachers, and coaches all told us to walk it off. Twisted an ankle, walk it off. Punched in the face, walk it off. Compound fracture, bone sticking out of your arm? Tie a tourniquet, and walk it off.
I felt foolish needing Motrin just to sip coffee. Calling out of work to sit on the couch, was a tough pill to swallow. But the alternative was going limp in the morning. When I couldn’t pick up my son, that became an emotional tipping point. That’s too much pain. Pain that robs you of what you love doing is a protest. Discomfort is different, doable. But when pain begins to erode your agency or joy, it’s time to act.
Your threshold is yours
I don’t have a universal number. Three days, three weeks, three months, it depends on your body, your history, your resilience. What matters is listening, and caring. Don’t let your story be one of silent martyrdom. If the pain is too much, speak up, act, pivot.
Pain is one of life’s teachers, though a harsh one. And living a story worth telling means not just surviving with scars, but living through them with integrity. So: read your story back. Are you the hero? The coward? The one who paused when the path got hard, or charged on, limp and bleeding? You get to pick.
If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to hear your take. Leave a comment below: have you ever hit “too much pain”? What did it teach you? And if you’re not getting these daily slices of thought and question in your inbox yet, join our daily email (just click “Stay Inspired” in the sidebar), I promise it’s not spam, just honest prompts.
- If you want to revisit when I’ve grappled with “Mistakes are the portals of discovery”, check out this Thought of the Day post.
- For another prompt that made me lean in, see Thought of the Day: Generosity and Gratitude — sometimes the healing isn’t just physical, but spiritual too.
Thanks for reading my heart today. May your story be rich, your choices brave, and your body listen kindly.