Design a Life You Love
What Will You Do with Your One, Precious Life?
And so it begins, the thing we’ve worked years to achieve. I don’t know about you, but when I finished my final MBA interview, I felt the same dread as when I finish a really good book over re-discovering what to do with my free time. The feeling worsened when I finished my last day of work. What do I do with my time? Why should I get out of bed before 11am? Who am I now?
I’d intentionally planned to stop working weeks before orientation so that I could get to answering some of those questions amidst moving across the country. I’m sorry to say that somehow the time between finishing work and today did not pass how I’d planned (though what does?) and, instead of sauntering through the doorway into this new life, I find myself thrust across its threshold. I had ideas, of course, of what I’d do in my free time: learn what vibe coding really means, research companies I might like to work for, investigate whether I actually want to change industries; very little of this was accomplished compared to what I’d hoped.
When my brother and I were done with another season of soccer, only a week passed until my mom had to start coaxing us to begin our homework and to get to bed. She’d lament two weeks later that somehow we were more productive when we had more to do, a paradox which took me several more years to understand. When unexpected free time appears, we default to the habits we’ve built to fill the now-longer gaps in our busyness – scrolling social media, playing Candy Crush, re-reading emails. We do not suddenly pick up the 100 things on our mental list of things we’d like to do because that is hard, new, and therefore uncomfortable, perhaps acutely so depending on the aspiration.
Even with planned free time, I still largely filled it with the easiest things conceivable first – meticulous packing, unpacking, fussing over furniture – and not the things I’d set out to do. I even had lists, categorized by activity type and ranked by importance. I’ll do it when this whole moving business is done, I thought to myself. But as my dear colleague and friend reminded me many times in our work together, the decks never clear; no time will magically feel “calm” enough to tackle the new improvement project. Forethought and execution discipline are our only reliable tools to slowly replace old habits with new ones and to forge ahead into discomfort. I knew this and yet I mostly defaulted to old habits, the easiest things to throw myself at, the least friction. For anyone with whom this arc resonates, I thought now would be the perfect time to collectively ask, in hopes of increasing accountability: how do we stop this cycle at a critical, pivotal moment in our young lives, a moment when, if we so choose, we can build something entirely new for ourselves?
Enter: Debbie Millman, an icon in the world of design whom I learned about in her interview on Tim Ferriss’s podcast (which I highly recommend you listen to even if you stop reading here). She asks her students, “What is the life you’d have if you pursued everything you’ve ever wanted with the certainty that you could succeed?” Her thesis is that deep reflection on this question and a thoughtful articulation of its answer enables not only a strong vision of what is possible, but with frequent review (once or twice a year), you can consciously and subconsciously design a life that you would actually want to live.
Her exercise, first and foremost, requires honesty, which requires vulnerability, at least with oneself. As another admirer of Debbie’s exercise characterized its value, “Change has a lot to do with admission of want.” Be specific, as this will enable the dream to come to life. Be vulnerable, or the exercise is frankly not worth doing. Most importantly, write about what’s possible, not probable; if manifesting sounds too woo-woo, call it constructing positive self-fulfilling prophecies. Because I know you can handle it, here’s a twist: don’t think too hard about it as you write; don’t let it take longer than an hour. “But wait, you want me to bare my soul and ‘not think about it?!’” you say incredulously. Yes – specific, honest, pie-in-the-sky writing will, like fiction, tell you what is true in spirit even if it is not exactly true in letter. Said differently, the details elucidate themes. Write, reflect on what comes out, assess if it feels true, and keep going. It can skew professional or personal but remember that this is broadly about your ideal LIFE, not just your job. Don’t worry about using jargon or if you reference a process that isn’t intuitive. The essay is first and foremost for yourself.
Finally, I invite you to take advantage of the accountability our HBS community can provide, both by “forcing” you to do it and by letting us know how we can help you achieve your goal. After you complete this exercise, send a short reflection (~300 words or less) including one thing you'll do in the next 30 days because of this essay – “By [date], I will [action]. Ask me about it.” Then, consider answering some of the below following questions. Send your reflection to Emily at ecounceller@mba2028.hbs.edu by September 21 at 11:59 pm. We will publish responses (with names!) in our October edition.
Reflection questions:
What surprised you about what came out?
About what aspects of your future life did you resist, stall, or hedge?
What's the gap between the life on the page and the one you're currently building? Name one concrete place they diverge.
What would make you not do it (think “pre-mortem)?
What could this community actually do to help? Be specific: an intro, a skill, a recurring text asking if you've done the thing, etc.
Emily Counceller (MBA '28) is from Indianapolis, Indiana. She studied Economics at DePauw University before beginning her career at Eli Lilly and Company in commercial forecasting. Prior to HBS, she spent 5 years on Lilly’s corporate VC team. In her spare time, you can find her climbing rocks, yapping, sampling pastries, and hanging with her husband and cat.
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