THE DML REPORT

THE EXIT RAMP

“Some people look into the ocean and see something that always looks the same, while others will say it’s always different because it is constantly moving at different speeds and heights — who is right, who is wrong, I do not know at this point in my life, which is a statement in itself.” — DML

WHEN TO SAY WHEN

Holding On Too Long: When Comfort Traps Us

We’ve all seen it: the Hollywood star who lingers past their prime, the leader who won’t step aside, or the couple who stays together out of habit, not love. Clinging to what’s familiar, even when it’s broken, is human nature. We get entangled in life’s nuances, mistaking routine for purpose, and hold on too long—often at our own expense. We forget that time is our biggest asset, and yet we don’t own it.

Consider Tom Brady, who returned for a 23rd NFL season at 45, only to face a lackluster year and boos. He held on a year too long, maybe two years. He could have won the Super Bowl for the Bucs, retired, and proven he was a winner no matter where he was placed. He missed the exit ramp.

Joe Biden. He got his ass whooped in 2024. Worse, he lost the respect of millions as he ran the country into the ground while knowing he had cancer. Despite all of this, a few month months ago he tried to get back into the political dance, asking for speaking engagements to help Democrats. He too missed the exit ramp.

Or how about Meryl Streep, still chasing Oscars at 76 — trying to look 20 years younger with loads of makeup and plastic, when her earlier brilliance might’ve been enough to lock her in as the best actress of all time.

CEOs like Bob Iger, back at Disney at 71 after stepping down, struggle to let go, their legacy tied to control.

Marriages—think Bill and Melinda Gates, together decades before a public split—can linger past their expiration date, bound by comfort, not connection.

America’s no different. We’re hooked on borrowing, ignoring the debt clock ticking past $36 trillion. Politicians pile on deficits—$1.9 trillion in 2024 alone—yet we shrug, accustomed to the cycle of spend-and-borrow. It’s not working; interest payments now rival defense spending. Still, we hold on, too entangled in the status quo to change.

I’m guilty, too. Earlier tonight, coming off a really bad day, I found myself searching for a political story to post on Facebook. Why? I’ve been doing the same thing on FB for 15 years. I hate Facebook, but yet I use it like crack cocaine. Why do I feel a need to post on Facebook, it’s the same BS every time. Disgusted with myself, I posted this question: “When do you know it’s time to move on from something or someone, and do you rip the bandaid off or do you do it slow — to lesson the pain and /or to ensure it’s the right move. Time is precious.”

A woman Carol, on FB, answered my question: “Screw me once shame on you .. screw me twice and the Band-Aid gets ripped off faster than a speeding bullet.”

Litha wrote: “Rip off the bandaid, you already know if you have to ask.”

Jamie’s hit me the hardest, “Just writing your post tells me you know it’s time. Very hard to do but I believe in the bandaid theory and don’t look back.”

It’s not just Facebook. Like you, I question almost everything and everyone these days. Even people I never imagined questioning, I question. Am I wasting my time with this person, or this thing? At 56, taking one exit ramp or another runs past my head, constantly. Example, I announced my retirement from podcasting last month, vowing to step back from the political fray. Yet, I’m still posting about politics, drawn to the familiar rush of commentary. It’s not just habit—it’s comfort. I’ve spent years in this arena, and stepping away feels like losing a piece of myself. But am I lost, chasing headlines in a game I meant to leave? You can take out politics, replace it with marriage, or put in sports, whatever. When do you know when it’s time to hit the exit ramp, that’s the million dollar question.

If I had to answer the question honestly, based on how I feel writing this op-ed, I think I’d tie it to the heart. When and if your heart feels flat, sorta like mine does tonight, be it for another person — a situation — a job — a home — whatever — you have to remember that your heart will never lie to you. It may confuse you, but it will not lie to you. That said, the problem is we hold on because it’s easier than letting go. The actor fears obscurity, the athlete dreads silence, the pundit hates irrelevance, the spouse avoids the unknown, and so on.

Personally, I’m learning that clinging to old habits and routines means the risk of losing who I could become with the time I have remaining, which is never guaranteed. Letting go isn’t failure—it’s freedom— or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself today. We must ask: Are we holding on out of purpose or fear? The answer might sting, but it’s the first step to moving forward.

All in, do not be shocked if you hear me say something you’d never expect to hear from me in the near future. I’m too invested to emotionally rip the bandaid off just yet, but I’m eyeing the adhesive strip and I think I see it peeling up.