How David Goggins Inspired Me to Live Fully (And Why It Wasn’t as Hard as I Feared)
There’s a story David Goggins tells that got under my skin in a way I couldn’t shake.
He imagines the end of his life. He dies, goes to heaven, and someone is waiting with a list in hand.
They start reading it out loud. It’s incredible. This David Goggins on the page? He’s done amazing things. He’s pushed beyond limits, inspired millions, and lived with unbelievable purpose.
And Goggins says: “Wow, who is that guy?”
The answer comes back: “That’s you. Or at least… that’s who you could have been.”
That image haunted me. The idea of standing at the end of my life and realizing: I missed it.
My Adaptation
Now, let’s be real. I’m not David Goggins. I’m not going to run 100-mile ultramarathons or break Navy SEAL records. I’m a mom. I’ve got a minivan and school pickups and dinner to make.
But the story still hit me. Because it wasn’t about running marathons. It was about regret.
I don’t have to be religious to believe in the idea of an “after.” Whether it’s God, the universe, or just me sitting with my own conscience — when that day comes, I want to stand there proudly. I want to say: Hell yes. That was my life. I lived it. I didn’t miss it.
That realization meant something had to change.
The Joy List: Rediscovering What Lights Me Up
The first shift came from figuring out what actually brought me joy. (Spoiler: it wasn’t more hustle or squeezing more onto my to-do list.)
So I started writing it down. Nothing fancy. Just the little things that made me feel alive:
Slow mornings with a cup of tea, silence, and my journal.
Dancing in the kitchen like no one is watching.
Talking to a friend and laughing until my stomach hurts.
Hiking alone on a quiet trail.
Baking cookies… even when it’s not Christmas.
Lighting a candle in the middle of a gray day just to make the house feel cozy.
Burning incense because the smell grounds me.
Watching silly dog and cat videos with my kids.
Watching old classic shows with them, too — black-and-white laughs never get old.
Monthly family movie nights where we even watch the trailers together.
None of it was fancy. None of it was Instagram-worthy. But when I looked at the list, it was clear: this is the stuff that makes me feel human.
And here’s the kicker: I stopped waiting for vacations or “someday.” I made a point of adding at least one of these joys into my life every single day. Small. Regular. Non-negotiable.
That one choice changed everything.
The Elimination List: Cutting Out What Drains
But here’s what I realized: living fully isn’t just about adding joy. It’s also about removing the stuff that makes life feel heavy.
So I made a second list — the Elimination List. Things I no longer wanted weighing me down. Things in my control.
Here’s what was on mine:
Feeling like a loser because I watched another day pass without moving an inch toward my goals.
Saying yes to things I didn’t actually want to do, just so I wouldn’t disappoint someone.
Telling a friend “we should grab coffee soon” — and then never following through.
Eating foods I knew made me feel terrible (acid reflux, low energy) just because they tasted good for five minutes.
Being so busy that there was never time left for myself.
Letting guilt run the show — mom guilt, friend guilt, never-enough guilt.
These weren’t random complaints. They were anchors. And the truth is, if I wanted to live a life of no regrets, I had to start cutting them loose.
The Transformation That Followed
Once I had those two lists — what to add and what to cut — my life started shifting. Not overnight, but steadily. And the results? They shocked me.
Here’s what changed:
✨ I got happier. Not just on vacations or birthdays — but on ordinary Tuesdays. Science says small daily joys boost dopamine and oxytocin, and I was living proof. A slow morning tea, a phone call with a friend, dancing in my kitchen… suddenly, life felt good again.
✨ I stopped living with acid reflux. I loved the taste of some foods, but I hated how they made me feel. Choosing to cut them out wasn’t deprivation — it was freedom. My body thanked me with calm nights and more energy.
✨ I stopped drowning in guilt. Family time isn’t squeezed in anymore. Friendships aren’t “when I have time.” I realized joy isn’t a luxury; it’s medicine. Scheduling it — unapologetically — made the guilt melt away.
✨ I became trustworthy to myself. If I said I’d do something, I did it. That one shift built self-respect like nothing else. No more “I’ll start tomorrow” loops. I could actually count on me.
✨ I made progress toward my goals. Instead of watching life pass me by, I began moving it forward — one tiny action at a time. No more waiting for “someday.” Every day mattered.
✨ I reclaimed my time. Busyness no longer runs my life — joy and purpose do. I stopped wasting hours on things I didn’t really want to do, and it was liberating. Saying “no” became an act of self-respect, not selfishness.
These weren’t small wins. They were seismic shifts. And the craziest part? None of them required me to run ultramarathons like David Goggins. They came from little choices — repeated daily — that added up to a life I actually love living.
Why This Changed Me
For years, I thought “living fully” meant big milestones — the trips, the highlight reels, the Instagram-worthy wins.
But Goggins’ story — and those two lists I made — taught me something else:
Living fully is about stacking small joys and cutting small drains until your everyday feels like a life worth remembering.
This has become one of the most important life lessons I’ve ever learned: how to actually live life to the full without waiting for permission or the “perfect time.”
I used to wait for vacations to feel alive. Now, I love my Tuesdays.
I used to wait for happiness. Now, I create it.
And I want the same for you.
Your Turn
If you’re reading this and feeling that same pang I felt listening to Goggins — that fear of regret — don’t ignore it. Do something with it.
Grab a notebook. Make your Joy List. Make your Elimination List. Then start small:
✨ Add one joy today.
✨ Cut one drain tomorrow.
✨ Repeat.
Stack them. Live them. Let them change you.
Because when the end comes — and someone starts reading back the story of your life — you deserve to smile and say:
“Yes. That’s me. That’s my life. I lived it, and I didn’t miss a thing!”
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