Beware the 1,000 Tiny Deaths

What if the thing you're most afraid of isn’t death—but not fully living?

“The tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live.”
— Norman Cousins

My partner and I were chatting in the backseat of a black sedan yesterday, zipping through the chaotic, celebratory streets of Luxor, Egypt during festival weekend. Outside our window, motorbikes darted inches from our car, donkeys shuffled by with sugarcane and palm fronds strapped to their backs, and horns bleated like insistent sheep as we wove our way toward the Valley of the Kings.

We’ve spent the past month living and working across Africa, stretched and challenged in nearly every dimension—health, sleep, our belief systems, comfort, and beyond. What’s struck us most, though, is how many of the travelers we meet are well into their sixties and seventies. It’s beautiful, really—watching them marvel at these iconic places, checking long-held dreams off a list decades in the making.

And yet, I wonder—why did they wait so long?

The world tells us to grind through our most vital years. Work hard, save, be responsible. Postpone joy. Delay magic. And hope you make it to the mythical ‘someday’ in one piece. But navigating ancient ruins in desert heat with a walker? That’s no easy feat. I admire their grit, deeply. But I ache, too. Because I imagine how long they carried that dream, how many years it flickered in the background, shelved in service of practicality.

It makes me think about how carelessly we spend our earlier years, as if time were renewable.

In my work, I talk to people—especially in midlife—who feel like they’ve done most of what they were supposed to do. Careers. Families. Homes. And yet, something’s off. They’re not miserable, exactly. But they’re not lit up either. They’re stuck in a quiet crossroads, unsure whether to make a bold pivot or simply ride out the rest of the journey on autopilot.

This is where the concept of 1000 Tiny Deaths comes in.

The Cost of Playing It Safe

We spend so much of our lives trying to avoid the one big death by playing it safe that we endure a thousand smaller ones. We silence our creativity. We dismiss our desires. We stay in relationships, careers, or versions of ourselves that we’ve outgrown. We don’t speak the truth. We don’t ask the question. We don’t buy the ticket.

Each time we say, “I’ll do it later,” each time we choose comfort over growth, each time we talk ourselves out of what we really want...A little piece of us dies.

These are the deaths we don’t grieve because they’re invisible. They don’t happen all at once - they happen in the spaces between: between the promotion and the panic attack, between school drop-offs and late night rants to friends, between “I should be grateful” and “Is this it?” We tell ourselves (and each other) little lies to corroborate this reality:

Marriage is just about companionship after a while.
No one gets everything they want.
That’s just fantasy.
Nobody likes their job. That’s why they call it work.
You have to choose: family or freedom.
You can’t have it all.

Why We Do It

We’re wired to survive, not to thrive. And in a world that rewards conformity and calls discomfort a red flag, it's no wonder we cling to the familiar. Fear is a powerful motivator. Fear of failure, judgment, instability, being seen, being wrong. So we convince ourselves that what we have is “good enough.” We build our lives on the blueprint we were handed, even if we never agreed to the design.

But playing it safe is not the same as being alive. There’s a quote by Anaïs Nin that always hits me in the chest: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Eventually, the ache of what could have been starts to push against the fear of change.

What Comes Alive When We Choose Discomfort

Discomfort is the currency of transformation. Every single thing I love about my life today—my relationship, the way I live, the work I do—came from choosing discomfort. From walking away from what wasn’t working. From letting things die that were no longer meant for me. And yes, it’s awkward. Lonely. Messy. There’s no map. Just a whisper that says, this isn’t it. And maybe, there’s more for you.

When you answer that call, the world cracks open. You begin to notice the magic again—ordinary moments laced with meaning. A sunset that feels like a love letter. A conversation that shifts your entire trajectory. The goosebumps of being fully awake in your own life.

Discomfort sharpens your edges and gives you access to parts of yourself you forgot were there.

A Call to Wake Up

So, what has quietly died in you? What part of yourself have you buried beneath responsibility, fear, or “someday”? And more importantly—what would it look like to resurrect it?

Maybe it’s painting. Traveling. Starting over. Saying no. Saying yes. Falling in love again—with someone, with yourself, with the possibility of a wildly different life. Whatever it is, you don’t have to wait. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t need to be more qualified, more healed, more ready. You just have to want to feel alive.

The time you think you have? It’s slipping by whether you do the thing or not.

And I get it - you can’t change everything overnight. If you’re working two jobs and barely making your rent payment then taking off tomorrow around the world may not be possible (yet). Perhaps you’re the sole provider in your family and opting to start a business that inspires you would throw everything into chaos. I get it, change can feel impossible, but I promise you - it is not. It will be uncomfortable, often unpleasant and take time, but it is within your reach. The first step is to decide that you want more. That you deserve joy. That you are worth taking a risk on to experiment, adventure, play and deeply explore what it means to be alive.

Closing Thought

The world will keep moving, horns honking and donkeys shuffling, sugarcane swaying in the wind. It can be loud, magical, draining, beautiful, and brutal. The only question is whether you’re living inside it—eyes open, heart beating—or watching it from behind glass. You get to decide if your life is a slow erosion of unspoken dreams, or the blazing kind that leaves nothing un-lived.

Choose life. Choose discomfort. Choose to stop dying a thousand tiny deaths.

If this interests you, please send me a message - helping folks get from there to here is my passion. Deciding to explore your potential is exciting and occasionally terrifying (I know, I’ve been there!) and you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got online courses opening up shortly as well as limited private sessions.

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