Life is the Only Real Sunk Cost
I’ve taken a hard look at my life and the things in it lately.
Things that are here but I’m not sure why. Things that I know should be here, but aren’t. Specifically, things that are here and I don’t want anymore, yet they stay. Music equipment, clothes, half-finished projects, even relationships.
Few people can look closely at their lives without finding something they hold onto despite the burden it forces them to carry.
These are sunk costs, and you cling to them for a number of reasons. Some are obligations and responsibilities you keep because you think there’s no way out. Some are things you hold onto because you want them to be significant even though the more you try to embrace them, the harder it gets. And some are things that have just been around so long you can’t justify getting rid of them—you’re attached to what they used to be.
The greatest insult is that these sunk costs only become worse the longer you keep them. The more you justify your position, the worse it gets.
Which sunk costs are you actually responsible for, though? Conventional wisdom tells you it’s too risky to abandon them—that the idea of starting over is worse than the idea of carrying on.
But conventional wisdom, as they say, is heavy on convention and light on wisdom.
The only sunk cost you’re truly obligated to is your own life. In the face of life, all else is secondary. And anything that doesn’t affirm it can be negotiated.
Most sunk costs can be seen for what they really are—a happiness tax—when looked at from a slightly different perspective.
What’s worse:
- 20 years of burden, or 40?
- $100,000 lost or $1 million?
This is the real question behind every sunk cost. It’s easy to trick yourself into believing differently by telling yourself you can “tough it out” or that you can “fix it.”
The problem is that you can tough it out, and you can fix it.
But that’s not what you do with sunk costs. Why? Because you don’t really want to. So what really ends up happening is you justify leading yourself down a path of delusion. You go just far enough to make the immediate pain go away, and then you stop and hope it doesn’t come back. But you know it will.
In the end, what’s really more painful? Ripping the band-aid off, or slowly pulling out each hair? Where does the risk truly lie?
Take stock of your life. Do it now; you don’t have that long.
What have you accepted as certain, despite the burden? What do you cling to no matter how much you want to let go?
When you think about these things and ask yourself what is honestly best for yourself tomorrow and beyond, what answer do you come to?
When you assess the risks and rewards in honest terms, where do you land?
There’s no way to make the decision in front of you any easier, but at least now it’s simpler.
And once you’re honest with yourself, which road will you take?
Now over to you: How do you deal with sunk costs in your own life?
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Image by: Eric Constantineau