For Good

I made a decision on a Tuesday. Not a dramatic Friday — a Tuesday, because once I'd made it I couldn't sit with it any longer.

For seventeen years I'd been good at a particular kind of life. The kind with a title, a routine, a parking spot with my name on it. I was good at it. I was promoted. I had a plan.

The problem wasn't the plan. The problem was the question the plan was answering. I'd spent fifteen years optimizing for 'how do I succeed at this?' without ever stopping to ask 'is this the thing I want to succeed at?'

Buster was asleep at the foot of the bed when I figured this out. He opened one eye, looked at me, and went back to sleep. He had no opinion on my existential recalibration. I envied him.

So I made some changes. Created some space. Decided to spend real time on the harder question.

This project is that process, recorded forever.