The Library Card Theory: Why I’m Done Treating My Life Like I’m Borrowing It
Are you keeping your life in mint condition for some future moment that might never come? This your life, not a library book. Crack the spine, write in the margins, leave your mark.
Recently, my mom received a $12 library fine for a book that’s now deemed too damaged to circulate. The corner was bent—that’s it. Now it sits quietly on our coffee table at home. The damage was only cosmetic; the story inside remains intact, but it’s a story only we can read now.
That’s the thing about library books—they make us cautious. We’re afraid to dog-ear pages, crack spines, or leave any trace of ourselves behind. But my favorite books are the ones that tell two stories: the one printed on the pages and the one written by living with them—coffee rings, margin notes only I can decipher, smudges from breakfast hands. Are those books “damaged” or well-loved?
What else in your life are you treating like a library book?
The “good” clothes hanging unworn, waiting for a special occasion that never comes. The blank walls in your rental because you’re “just renting.” The cheap teapot you use daily, while the nice one waits for when your “real life” begins. The job, home, or relationship you’re treating like a placeholder.
Are you living carefully, cautiously, afraid to leave your mark because this life isn’t “really” yours yet?
Am I living the life I want RIGHT NOW, or am I waiting for someday?
My mom’s cancer diagnosis highlighted this question so pointedly. Cancer was...is a tragic gift—cruel but clarifying, a lighthouse cutting through fog to show what matters most.
I’ve always wanted to be location-independent. And my last two jobs afforded me that opportunity. But I never took it because that was my dream life, something for someday when I earned it.
When I finally landed the fully remote, six-figure, cushy job in corporate, I should have jumped on a plane and lived that dream. But I set an arbitrary timeline for when I could work location-independently because I felt it was the right thing, the proper thing to do. Something that I needed to earn. I wanted to show them I cared, but I should have cared more about my life. I didn’t yet understand that caring more about my life wasn’t selfish—it was the point.
I did eventually travel. I spent a month in Scotland and Ireland. I was glowing. I was happy. I explored during the day and worked till late in the evening. It’s a chapter I’ve dog-eared, the one I return to when I need to remember that I can live my dream life every day.
But it was also the summer my supervisor was randomly fired—no warning, no loyalty rewarded. So when I got home, I stopped traveling. I told myself I needed to show stability, prove my commitment, even as they’d just proven theirs was conditional.
After another year of waiting—a year of taking on more responsibilities with no title change, no raise—I finally started traveling again. That’s when my mom was diagnosed.
You don’t have to defer joy until you’ve earned it, suffered enough for it. You don’t need permission to live fully in the life you have right now.
You’re allowed to leave your mark
So how do you know if you’re living like a borrower?
Ask yourself: What am I not doing because “this isn’t permanent”?
What are you putting off until you have the “real” house, the “real” relationship, the “real” career?
The answer reveals where you’re waiting for permission that will never come.
Here’s what it looked like for me:
When I moved to Boston into a tiny shoebox room, I had two choices: treat it like a way station or make it mine. I hung artwork, added shelves, filled the space with plants, and even convinced my landlord to remove the ugly bifold doors. For five months, that room held me through panic attacks, a toxic boss, and the crushing expense of a new city. When I finally packed it up, I realized: if I hadn’t made that space mine—if I’d lived like I was just passing through—I wouldn’t have survived.
After I was laid off seven months ago, I could have put my life on hold. Instead, I wrote new chapters: a national park road trip out west with my brother, a solo trip to Chicago booked, a pottery classes I’d been putting off for “someday.”
Each one left a mark. Clay under my fingernails. Miles on my car. Proof that I was here.
There I was, scribbling in the margins, cracking the spine, and making a beautiful mess.
Now, imagine we’re sitting at a coffee table with our drinks (mine’s a London Fog). I lean forward and ask you:
Are you living like you need to return your life in mint condition? Like someone’s going to grade you on how little wear and tear you caused?
Are you just borrowing time until your “real” life starts?
The “Use It” Challenge
Here’s what I want you to consider: What if you already own this life? What if it’s not on loan? What if it’s yours to mark up, mess up, and make your own?
This week, I’d like you to try something. But first, a warning: this will feel uncomfortable. When you reach for that thing you’ve been saving, your brain will offer you every excuse— “It’s not special enough yet,” “What if I need it later,” “What if I ruin it?”
That discomfort? That’s the feeling of permission you’ve been waiting for.
Here’s what to do:
Step 1: Identify one thing you’ve been saving for “someday”
Not sure where to start? Look for these patterns:
The unused beautiful thing: Grandma’s china, the fancy candles, the “good” perfume gathering dust
The delayed experience: The solo weekend trip, the art class, the nice restaurant you’re “saving” for a celebration
The “not yet” investment: The quality kitchen tool, the artwork for your walls, the hobby supplies sitting in a cart
The clothes with tags: The dress waiting for an occasion fancy enough to deserve it
Pick ONE. Just one. The smallest one that scares you a little, or maybe the one that excites you.
Step 2: Use it this week
Not next month. Not when things settle down. This week.
Eat your Tuesday tacos on the fine china
Wear the fancy dress at home and dance to jazz in your living room
Book that weekend trip for next month (yes, before you feel “ready”)
Sign up for the first pottery class
Hang the art on your rental walls with Command strips
Light the expensive candle just because it’s Wednesday
Step 3: Notice what happens
Pay attention to:
The moment right before you do it (What’s the resistance saying?)
The feeling while you’re doing it (Guilty? Giddy? Both?)
The aftermath (Relief? Pride? “That’s it?”?)
Then come back here. Bookmark this essay. Return after you’ve done it and leave a comment about what you used and how it felt to stop waiting for someday. Because I want to celebrate you. I want to hear how you didn’t wait for someday, you chose today.
Because here’s the secret: the first time is the hardest. After that, you start to realize that your life right now—the Tuesday taco nights, the random Wednesday evenings, the unremarkable weekends—these are the special occasions.
This is your life. You don’t need to return it in pristine condition.
So go make your mark.
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Are you living the life you want right now, or waiting for someday? The Library Card Theory explores why we treat our lives like borrowed time—and how to stop. Practical steps to use the good china, take the trip, and leave your mark on the life you're living today.