Slowing Down (Sort Of)

 

I’ve been working since I was fourteen. Mowing lawns, washing dishes, selling ideas … doesn’t matter the job, I’ve always been doing something and getting paid for it. Work is what I know. Work is what I like. It makes me feel useful. Necessary. Like there’s a scoreboard somewhere and I’m still in the game.

I like goals. I like beating them. I like that quiet little high you get when you finish something that didn’t exist before you started it ... and your team recognizes the accomplishment and celebrates it.

Somewhere along the way, “being productive” got wired into me. Not as a suggestion, but as a law of nature. You produce, you earn, you contribute … therefore, you exist.

And now?

Now I’m breaking that law.

I just turned down a contract extension. The contract that’s been paying most of the bills. Not because it was a bad deal (it wasn’t; it was a great deal), not because I was burned out (I wasn’t), but because … it’s time.

Time to stop chasing the next milestone just because there’s always a next milestone.

Time to let the machine idle for a while.

I guess I’m retiring. Sort of.

I’ll still take on freelance work, but only the kind that feels like play. Projects that make me curious. People who make me smile. Things I’ll want to brag about to a mirror when no one else is around.

But while everyone around me is celebrating my retirement, I’m over here feeling like I just stepped off a moving train and can still feel the ground humming under my feet. It’s disorienting. There’s a part of me that’s grieving. Not just the work, but the rhythm of it. The sense of belonging that comes from being needed. By teammates. By the organization.

Because let’s be honest: working isn’t just about time and money. It’s also about meaning.

And when the work you’ve done has filled your days, your ego, your social life, your sense of purpose, well, walking away from that is no small thing. It stirs up all the big stuff. Life. Death. Legacy. That whole “what’s it all about” montage that starts playing in your head when things get too quiet.

So yeah, I’m feeling a lot. Excitement, sadness, maybe even a little terror.

But underneath all that, there’s also a quiet curiosity.

What happens when I’m not producing for someone else? What happens when the only deadlines are the ones I set for myself?

That’s what I’m about to find out.

I’ve got a couple of books in the works. Some music I’ve been meaning to finish. This blog that’s been quietly tapping me on the shoulder for years, saying, “Hey, maybe posting once a week ain’t enough.” It's all coalescing into a direction ... a plan of sorts.

My plan is to stick to my plan. But hold it loosely.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from decades of work, it’s that life doesn’t follow your Gantt chart.

So here I am … easing off the throttle, hands a little shaky, trying to remember that slowing down isn’t the same as stopping.

Maybe it’s just changing gears.