For a long time, I carried around a quiet assumption that I don’t think I ever said out loud, but I definitely believed. At some point, everything would finally be handled. The tasks would be done. The life problems would be solved. Everything would be in its place. And then, finally, I could relax and enjoy life the way it was meant to be lived.

It sounds reasonable when you say it that way. Almost logical.

The problem, however, is that is not our reality as finite human beings (borrowing the term from Oliver Burkeman).

The Illusion We All Buy Into

As physicians, we are wired to solve problems. It’s what we’re trained to do, and it’s what we do well. See an issue, diagnose it, intervene, fix it, move on to the next one. So it makes sense that we approach life the same way. We start to believe that if we can just clear enough problems, we’ll eventually reach some steady state where everything is in order.

But life doesn’t work like that.

The problems don’t disappear. They just evolve. As soon as you solve one, another takes its place. Sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, but always there.

And if your mindset is that life begins only after the problems evaporate, you end up perpetually postponing it.

My Own Version of the Trap

For most of my life, I treated problems like a checklist. If I could just get through everything in front of me, I’d earn the right to relax.

Finish the cases. Answer the emails. Take care of the obligations. Then I can take a breath.

The issue is that the checklist never ends.

As I’ve moved from being a kid to college, to medical school, to residency, and now into practice, the volume and complexity of those boxes have only grown. There are more of them, and they matter more.

What I’ve found is that one of two things usually happens. Either I grind through the list until it’s late and there’s no real time or energy left to enjoy anything, or I don’t get through it all at all. And when that happens, the unfinished tasks don’t just sit quietly. They create a low-grade anxiety that follows you around, reminding you that you’re not “done” yet.

The Shift That Changes Everything

The realization that started to change things for me is simple, but not easy to fully accept: Life is not what happens once the problems are gone. Life is what happens as we deal with them. Life is the problems.

That reframing matters.

Because when you start to see it that way, the problems stop feeling like interruptions to your life and start looking like the substance of it.

Managing a complex patient is not something standing in the way of your life. Performing a difficult surgery is not something delaying your ability to live. Even the smaller things, like getting dinner ready for your kids or trying to coordinate schedules, are not obstacles to get through.

They are the experience.

They are what give life its texture, its challenge, its resonance, and ultimately its meaning.

Rethinking What Freedom Actually Means

This shift also changes how you think about freedom.

Most of us, at some level, equate freedom with the absence of problems. If I just had more money, more control over my time, or more status, then maybe I could finally eliminate the friction.

But that’s not what happens.

The problems don’t go away. They just change shape.

What starts to feel like real freedom is something else entirely. It’s the ability to choose which problems you get to take on.

That’s a much more attainable and much more meaningful goal.

Medicine Makes This Clear

You can see this clearly in medicine.

There are plenty of problems we deal with that we didn’t sign up for. The administrative burden, the inbox, the non-clinical demands that seem to grow every year. Those feel imposed, and they’re often the ones that drain us the most.

But the clinical problems are different.

The challenging cases, the decision-making, the responsibility of caring for patients. Those are the problems we chose. They’re the ones that engage us and, in many cases, fulfill us.

That contrast makes it obvious. It’s not the presence of problems that determines how we feel. It’s whether we find meaning in the ones we’re solving.

My Takeaway

If you’re waiting for the moment when everything is handled so you can finally relax, it’s worth pausing and asking whether that moment is actually coming.Because it probably isn’t.

A more useful approach is to stop trying to eliminate every problem before allowing yourself to enjoy your life. Instead, recognize that the problems are not in the way. They are the way.

And if that’s true, then the real goal becomes clearer.

Not a life without problems, but a life where you get to choose the problems that are worth your time, your energy, and your attention.

I’m still working on this myself. But even starting to see it this way has made the whole experience feel a lot lighter.

What do you think? Are problems something to get through or are they really life itself? Do you carry a constant checklist? Does it ever get done? Could a reframe help you like it did me? Let me know in the comments below!