It Was Time
Well, it was time.
People are going to read into this. They’re going to think something happened — an irreconcilable difference of sorts. But it wasn’t really like that. At all.
This Christmas, I went home to Northern Michigan. Two hours before Christmas dinner, I went for a walk down the road my parents live on. I walked, and I walked, and I walked. I walked until I had the realization that, holy shit, I need to turn around or I’m going to be late for Christmas dinner.
My hands were stuffed in my jacket. My head covered by a ski hat. My cheeks a bit red. But I didn’t really mind. I couldn’t remember the last time I walked for that long and didn’t see a single soul outside of one woman who had her car parked at the end of a driveway. I think she was sneaking a cigarette from her family, but I’ll never really know for sure.
During the winter months, my hometown is fairly empty. And on Christmas day, well, you can only imagine how quiet it gets while everyone’s cooped inside their houses with their families.
As I rounded a corner that I had driven several times over, I looked across a long field — again, it was quiet and cold yet somewhat peaceful. Deep breath in, big exhale out.
It’s hard not to get introspective in those moments. Those moments when your phone has no service; the times when there’s no one else around to talk to.
I thought about the last time I was alone in the dead of winter in Harbor Springs. It was 2015 and I had just been hired full-time to move to Austin, Texas for a writing gig. It was because of my work on this very site — Sunday Scaries.
Four years ago. Four years of writing, editing, and providing content to millions of people.
While it seems like just yesterday, four years is still a long time. There’s a reason it takes four years to graduate from high school and college. It’s a tangible, formative chunk of time that allows you to figure things out. A long enough time that a little tickle inside of you eventually becomes an itch, and that itch eventually becomes something that needs to be scratched.
Well, I never really got to scratch that original itch. The thing that started it all. The passion deep down that provided me all the opportunities that I thought (at the time) were the end goal.
No matter how hard I worked — and I assure you, I gave my all — I never truly got rid of the Sunday Scaries itch that lingered. Which is why I knew it was time to give it my all.
On that winter walk, I felt a freedom and a peace that I hadn’t felt for far too long. A freedom that felt reminiscent of the early days of Sunday Scaries, a time when I controlled my own destiny.
And now, I’m on my own doing just that — trying to control my own destiny on my own. Except for maybe the woman sneaking a cigarette away from her family. I never really saw where she went.