Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying

Original Writing Date: June 25, 2025

Have you seen the movie, “Shawshank Redemption?

It’s a powerful, emotional and at times, harsh look at

one man’s journey in prison.

He meets a fellow prisoner, who becomes his closest friend.

Towards the end of the movie, Morgan Freeman’s character

says a very moving line: Get busy living or get busy dying.

I sort of went on an unexpected hiatus from writing and my podcast.

There were many reasons:

My daughter graduated from high school.

This summer’s coughing and congestion plague hit our home

and thus, I lost my voice for about two weeks.

I have been working a lot.

Also caring for my dad, who is on dialysis (more on that soon)

And.

And.

A friend unexpectedly passed away.

That hit me hard.

Harder than I realized.

In fact, as I write this, I am preparing to go to her memorial service today.

She was a friend that came into my life during a pivotal season of

“growing up in my 20’s”.

Short story: we met through the guys that we were dating. But it didn’t mean that we

had to be friends. Yet, we did. We had the best time and always found some adventure whenever we were together.

We had a mutual love of the show, “Friends”.

She taught me how to make a really simple, yet delicious pasta salad.

I learned how to properly lift weights since she was a physical trainer.

And the laughs. First, her laugh was contagious and the sheer sound of it brought everyone within earshot

a feeling of pure joy.

After a few years, we unfortunately had a falling out. It broke our friendship, and more than a little part of me.

Several years later, we reconnected (thank you, social media) and I always thought I would have ‘time’ to talk to her.

In fact, just a few weeks ago, I started listening to a podcast that she started with her triplet sister about their experience with cancer.

It was moving to me because I knew the people speaking about the life-changing, devastating, first-hand account of living with cancer.

I had just finished their latest (and I believe their last) episode and I felt moved to reach out to her.

I didn’t.

I’m mad at myself about that.

She doesn’t know that. But I do.

I thought I had more time. I thought her time, my time, our time was endless.

And I was wrong.

She passed away the morning before my daughter’s graduation party.

When I found out, I audibly gasped at the news.

An immediate lump formed in my throat and I wanted to cry. But I didn’t.

All day I held onto the grief that was simmering within me.

I kept thinking that maybe I don’t have a right to cry because it had been so long since we talked.

I kept thinking that my grief wasn’t deserving because we didn’t have a chance to rebuild the freindship that was treasured but broken.

And then, I cried.

That evening before dinner, when the house was a little quiet, the unstoppable wave of grief overtook my soul.

I sat on the couch, openly crying while an unexplicable heaviness of sadness physically came over my body.

I couldn’t stop crying if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to.

This was a different kind of sadness.

This was a visceral reaction to true loss, physically and emotionally.

I have felt loss before. Family members and friends have passed away. But nothing like this.

I’m a thinker. And I had to process this for quite a few days. And in those following days, I also experienced a few things that gave me some introspection.

I questioned why she passed away so young.

I wondered what the bigger purpose is for her to experience the evils of cancer.

I am scientifically curious as to why her triplet sister also has cancer, but her triplet brother does not (as far as I know).

And beyond that, I questioned why I didn’t get a chance to see her one last time and say what I wanted to.

That was the heaviest thought that I have been carrying with me. And I think it’s what I am grieving the most right now.

Over the last two years or so, I have been on my own journey with depression and anxiety. I will likely share more on this in the future, but I call it my “Best, Worst Thing.”

It’s the worst thing because…well, depression and anxiety is debilitating and not only impacts you, but everyone around you. When they are struggling because you are struggling, it creates a whole new angle of guilt and heaviness.

It’s the best thing because I have been able to work on myself, truly get to know myself, and grow. Grow like a new plant free to spread its roots in fresh new soil. And sometimes, the plant goes into shock and some of the leaves can wilt and fall. Yet, given the right environment, the old falls away and new fresh growth appears.

That is how I choose to look at my battle with depression and anxiety. It’s still there. It can rear its ugly, little head at any time but now I know what to do when it happens. I have tools in my toolbox and I use them.

One of those tools that I use are My Mantras. Yes, I capitilized those because they are the book title to my life. I choose to change the narrative in my head when the thoughts that I have get too much, too heavy, or too ugly.

I use the Mantras so much, I was inspired to write a book about them. It’s a finished book, just sitting in a file on my computer, not yet published. Why? Because I didn’t know if the world needed it. The last book I wrote was a mushy, Hallmark-like, romantic love story. This was completely different.

And then, I took this little unexpected hiatus from writing and recording and…the best worst thing happened.

I had all the feels when my daughter graduated. I felt a wave of grief over losing what was when she was younger and growing up. That was the worst thing. And then, in recent days, I’ve begun to feel a wave of excitement for her, preparing to spread her wings and move on to the next chapter of her life. To get busy living.

Then, I got sick. I don’t have time to get sick. Too many people depend on me and I have a never-ending list of ‘to-do’s’ that I must accomplish. I’ve started my own business so that creates its own set of never ending pressure points.

And then, we lost Amanda. That heaviness felt like I had two bricks tied around my feet. And my heart. As the days went on, I got on with my daily rituals of life, but it felt weird.

Then a few days ago, I had to take my dad to his dialysis check up appointment. His usual nurse wasn’t there, so we met with someone we didn’t know as well. During the visit, she took a phone call. After she explained that her husband was in the hospital and she had to take the call. With complete understanding, we expressed our wishes for him to get well soon. She openly shared that he is a Veteran and was having a crisis due to the recent attacks in Iran. Chills spread over me and stayed with me for several moments. I was feeling her pain, and his, without even knowing them. But I did recognize the pain and dark places that trauma and depression can take you. I felt it deep within me.

And just as strong as the thought that I had to reach out to Amanda, I immediately thought, you need to publish your book. People need mantras, simple mantras or some physical form of connection (like a book) to remind them that they have control of their thoughts and more importantly, they aren’t alone.

I’m motivated to self-publish this book. If I was inspired to write it, that must mean there are others that need it too.

This morning, as I prepare to say goodbye to my friend, I woke up with the quote from Shawshank in my head.

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

I choose to get busy living. I hope you do too.

Love you, Amanda. Something tells me that you would agree.

Thanks for crossing this hard bridge with me.

Till next time,

Xo,

B.