Something Earned

Two Weeks Out (September 1)

Last week I thought I was detonating everything. Turns out it’s more of a recalibration.

I’m scaling back at work to 30 hours, splitting my weeks between Phoenix (2 nights) and Prescott (5 nights). Trading fluorescent lights for granite and sky, but without giving up the paycheck and benefits—at least for now.

My therapist laughed the other day and said he couldn’t believe how much I was smiling. He’s right. I feel like a different person than the low-energy ghost I was just a few months ago.

The RV is my reset button. Prescott is my calibration zone. And the books—two of them—are finally moving from drafts to actual publishing. I still need an illustrator, but that’s a good problem to have.

Two weeks out, it’s less “end of the world” and more “new orbit.” And for once, the center of it is me.

Now

Writing is progressing—slowly but steadily. The gym’s a mood-based ritual; sometimes twice a day, sometimes not at all. Maybe that’s balance, maybe it’s obsession, but either way I’m almost back to my high-school figure.

Diet’s decent, except for the edible cookie dough. You know, the kind you can bake or eat raw? As if any of us were waiting for permission. I don’t even preheat the oven anymore. It’s winter—comfort wins.

Distance has been clarifying. I see now how we built a kind of quiet suffocation—two people trying so hard to keep peace that we starved the spark. The other person is out more now—friends, dinners, actually rebuilding a life. I’m finally breathing in my own space. Turns out we both needed permission to stop performing presence and start living. Stepping back didn’t just free me; it showed me what we’d both lost trying to protect what wasn’t growing.

So, yes, something earned. Something rebuilt. Something still becoming.

💙