When is good enough good enough?
What we optimize for in money, work, and relationships
Your Five-Year Plan is a newsletter about embracing life’s profound uncertainty.
Maybe your own plans went up in flames; maybe you’re considering a big, scary leap. This is your trusty companion while you’re writing the next life chapter.
Welcome to the conversation—and to the adventure that unfolds when your plans go sideways. This is letter #5. ✨
☀️ How was your week?
I’m brushing up on my HTML and CSS skills. I started taking refresher front-end web development classes online, a pursuit so engaging that I find myself losing track of time! It’s been so warm in the Pacific Northwest that I’ve been able to enjoy said classes from my back patio—a practice I’d wholeheartedly recommend.
On to today’s letter!
When is good enough good enough?
At the beginning, I’d been surprised by each new crisis. Now, I saw the pattern: every week, approximately two medical emergencies would occur. Somehow, I found this knowledge helpful. When the next fire drill happened, I wouldn’t be caught off guard.
It was the middle of the night. I lay awake on my air mattress in the basement, waiting for the doorbell to ring. The hospice night nurse would arrive soon to swap out my mom’s malfunctioning pain medication pump.
I pondered the big question that had been on my mind. Knowing that my mom was going to die soon—but also acutely aware of how exhausted and overwhelmed I was—how should I approach my time?
Should I set aside a restorative hour each day for myself, like I would in any other demanding situation? I could go for a long walk, or shop for groceries to cook instead of eating takeout standing up.
Or should I throw self-care to the wind and spend every moment with Mom, knowing how limited our time was?
My boyfriend made an astute observation about the nature of terminal illness. “It’s like being locked in a room with a ticking bomb,” he said. “But nobody can see how much time is left on the clock.”
No wonder she was so anxious—and no wonder I didn’t know whether to rest, just a little bit, or to make optimal use of every last moment we had together.
When we strive to optimize our finances, we sometimes consider the last inch before running the first mile, or over-engineer our plans past the point of diminishing returns.
We fantasize about building wealth before we’ve learned how to keep our credit-card spending in check. We try to guess at the directionality of future mortgage interest rate changes before we’ve saved a down payment, or decided where we want to settle.
We fixate on questions of optimal timing, knowing full well we can’t predict the future. We skip ahead because the next step is sexier than the current one. We forget that “best” comes after “good” and “better.”
After my layoff, the final words arrived from my former boss and mentor.
I think I have done everything I need to do. If you're still expecting something else, please let me know.
Need: a requirement or obligation. A box, checked—probably the one defined by state employment law.
As for my expectations? Well, those depended on what we’d optimized for in an entirely implicit agreement: our social contract as colleagues and fellow human beings.
“What’s an emery board?” A question I never thought I’d field from my brother.
He’d been at my mom’s bedside during her latest hospital stay; now, she clearly felt well enough to be self-conscious, having sent him home to retrieve her makeup.
With Christmas approaching, this gave me an idea: could we find someone to drop by for a mani-pedi? Turns out, there’s an organization called Manicare that helps people feel special and beautiful when confined to their house, nursing home, or hospital bed.
This is how we met Ginean, who gave my mom a mobile manicure on Christmas Eve.
Mom was in love with her cheerful cherry-red fingernails, and immediately made a second appointment, asking for “a pedicure extravaganza” next time. When that day arrived, it was clear that Ginean took the “extravaganza” request seriously.
She set a vase of roses on the bedside table, and brought a CD player to fill the space with soothing classical music. She placed an assortment of flickering candles around the room, and hydrating under-eye patches atop my mom’s cheekbones.
In service of someone living out her final days, Ginean had optimized for delight.
My mom had taken up knitting a couple years earlier, when the pandemic first began. She’d started a beginner’s project—a scarf—and sent me a photo of the work in progress. After she died, I found that partial scarf and the skeins of chunky yarn tucked away in a corner of her house.
I had no clue how to knit, but my mom’s friend Carol did; she’d made a pair of speckled blue-gray wrist warmers that my mom practically lived in.
When it came time to re-home her belongings, I knew who should get the yarn. Carol and I met for tea and pastries at a coffee shop, and as we parted, I handed it over.
The next day, I pulled into my mom’s driveway and noticed the storm door was slightly ajar, held open by a gift bag. Carol had knitted me a pair of wrist warmers and a winter hat, accompanied by a beautiful note explaining the cultural origin of the wrist-warmer tradition.
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since I handed Carol the yarn. And it had been a gift for her. But she’d taken these raw materials and found the optimal use for them.
There are many times when sticking to “good enough” is, genuinely, good enough. It’s an approach that can save us from getting too far ahead of ourselves, and protect our finite reserves of energy and sanity.
But Ginean and Carol, and countless other friends and family members, have changed how I think about creating optimal moments of connection. A “pedicure extravaganza” wasn’t on Ginean’s list of professional services. I didn’t ask Carol to handcraft me a keepsake.
They knew exactly when going above and beyond mattered most—and everyone in their orbit is that much better for it.
💬 What do you think?
I’m curious to hear from you. Where in your life are you most likely to go all-out, and where are you content with “good enough”?
Had your own plan-in-flames experience? Taking a leap into the unknown? I’d love to hear more. Just hit “reply” to get in touch, or introduce yourself here.
Warmly,
Maddie
Isn't this the ultimate struggle? Knowing when to say enough (we are enough, we have enough, etc)...likely what all of us struggle with to some degree if we are honest with ourselves. Thanks for your vulnerability!
Another fantastic post! And those backyard blooms...swoon!