When I was in first grade, I was a slow learner. Watching the other kids in my class grasp concepts quickly while I struggled was painful. At our school, we read Sam and Ann books. I was stuck in book 2 while many of my classmates had advanced to book 10. The smartest kid in the class was already in book 23. I was amazed that anyone could be so far ahead of the rest of us.

Every time a child moved up to the next book level, they were rewarded with a piece of candy. The day finally came when I advanced to book 3. I was thrilled! My teacher was proud of me, too. She reached into her desk to give me a piece of candy but found that she didn’t have any left. After searching, she found a stick of gum instead. She handed it to me and said, “Leonard, I’ll give you this gum if you promise not to chew it until you get home.” I eagerly agreed.

But temptation got the better of me during recess. I thought, No one will know if I chew it now. I unwrapped the gum and began chewing. When we lined up to come back inside, a teacher spotted me. My crime was obvious. I was immediately asked to spit out the gum and, as punishment, spend my next recess writing, “I will not chew gum in school.”

My connection to gum—and trouble—didn’t end there. Later that same year, I came home from the store with my dad, happily chewing gum. My dad immediately realized something was off; gum was a rare treat in our house. He put two and two together, knowing we had just come from the store. Once again, I was guilty of a gum-related offense. I had taken a pack of gum without paying for it.

My dad insisted that I make things right. He marched me back to the store, where I had to admit my mistake to the manager and pay for what I had taken. The experience left a strong impression on me. I’m grateful to have had a dad who taught me the importance of owning up to my mistakes and making better choices.

Years later, I spent much of my career as a custodian at a school. It was a rewarding job, and I loved seeing the students grow and learn. I’m now retired, but I remember one thing that surprised me before I left: the students were given gum before taking their big year-end tests. I couldn’t believe it. Don’t they know gum is against the rules? I thought. When I asked, I was told about a study showing that peppermint gum helps students stay alert and improves memory recall. The gum was meant to boost test scores.

This memory of gum got me thinking about double standards. As a child, gum was “bad”—don’t chew it at school, and definitely don’t take gum without paying for it. As an adult, gum was “good”—it helped students focus and succeed. I realized that double standards are everywhere.

Even my own family wasn’t immune. My grandparents experienced a heartbreaking tragedy when their oldest child, my uncle, died of a drug overdose at just seven years old. He had been given an adult prescription that proved fatal. That loss led my grandfather to become a pharmacist. Yet he had a double standard: “Drugs are to sell, not to take,” he would often say.

This philosophy shaped my upbringing. I was taught to view drugs with caution. Yet today, I see a similar double standard with prescription drugs. Many parents are baffled when their children turn to illegal drugs, not realizing that the habit may have started with a reliance on legal drugs for every little ailment.

There’s no denying the great advances in medicine and science. Prescription drugs save countless lives. But on the flip side, how many of us reach for medicine like it’s candy—popping pills for every ache and pain without considering the long-term effects? Society has conditioned us to seek quick fixes, often at the expense of our health.

When I get a headache, my first step is to drink a tall glass of water. If that doesn’t work, I use an essential oil to rub on my forehead. About 95% of the time, this is enough. My last resort is taking an over-the-counter pain reliever.

If given the choice between a convenient pill and a healthier alternative, let’s choose health over convenience. By removing double standards, we can take charge of our well-being and start living more intentionally.