Just like any other exhausted student, I was waiting for the Christmas break. And, just like any other student, I postponed relaxation, time with family, and joyful moments to meet deadlines. The thought of hopping over one last hurdle and then finally enjoying the perfect moment kept me going through the rough times.
But life had other plans. The day before my much-anticipated relief, my beloved dog passed away suddenly and tragically, turning the festive mood of the holidays into a period of grief.
Arriving home too late to support my family during such a difficult time made me realize that all those postponed moments were not worth the extra project, the perfect attendance, or a good grade.
As I grappled with the feelings of sorrow, I realized it wasn’t only my absence that devastated me. It was also the fact that my solid ‘I’ll enjoy it more later’ approach to life had let me down entirely.
This brought to mind the famous Stanford Marshmallow Experiment. In the 1970s, psychologist Walter Mischel offered children a choice: they could have one marshmallow immediately or wait and get two. Follow-up studies suggested that kids who delayed gratification often achieved better life outcomes. Society embraced the results, turning delayed gratification into a gold standard for success.
Delaying joy for the ‘right’ moment felt like the proper thing to do—until it wasn’t
I grew up as a ‘two-marshmallow child’, molded by a culture that equates sacrifice with ambition. Clenching my teeth and pushing through no matter what became a habit I thought was good. Delaying joy for the ‘right’ moment felt like the proper thing to do—until it wasn’t.
‘It is important to have goals and to sacrifice for them sometimes’, another two-marshmallows friend said to me. ‘But if you want to remain sane, you need to rethink your approach. It’s not always about getting two marshmallows. Sometimes, you have to ask yourself whether you want the marshmallow now—or if you even want it at all.’
I thought I was being smart by putting my reward off until ‘later’, after my exam, after my deadline, after this semester, after this school year. But the words of my friend made me realize that sometimes the ‘right’ moment for a marshmallow could be now and it may make you happier than two marshmallows later. Because sometimes, those marshmallows we save for later lose their appeal—or worse, they disappear entirely.
So this is my New Year’s resolution: I will always ask myself if I want the marshmallow now or later before deferring my small moments of happiness for the sake of an uncertain reward. Postponing or waiting isn’t always the answer and life doesn’t always guarantee two marshmallows. Sometimes the perfect time might be right now.
LIZA KOLOMIIETS