A Reflection on Editing Out the Wrong People, Wrong Places, and the Version of Myself That Put Up With It

Let’s just call January and February what they were: the universe clearing its throat before saying something stupid. The year rolled in like it had somewhere important to be and then just… sat down, took its shoes off, and made itself uncomfortable in my living room for sixty straight days. No warning. No apology. Just vibes, and not the good kind. The kind that make you question your life choices at 2am when you can’t go back to sleep because sub-consciously the universe is trying to speak to you in a language you don’t fucking understand. But here we are. March has arrived. Fresh page, clean slate, zero coffee stains on it yet. I’m choosing to take that as a sign.

Now let’s talk about the job situation because frankly it deserves its own eulogy. I spent the better part of the last stretch working somewhere that was less of a career move and more of a slow psychological leak just to keep the bills paid. The kind where you don’t notice how much you’ve deflated until you’re completely flat and wondering why everything feels so goddamn heavy. The people there were draining in that specific, weaponized way that only truly miserable people can pull off. You know the type. The ones who’ve never met a good day they couldn’t sand the shine off of. Working alongside that energy every day is like trying to fill a bathtub with the drain open, you keep pouring in effort and watch it disappear into a void that was never going to hold it anyway.

So I got out. Took the new job. And holy shit, what a difference. It turns out when you stop spending ten hours a day, six days a week and a four hour total commute, in a place that treats your enthusiasm like an inconvenience, you actually have something left at the end of the day. Imagine that. The difference between a toxic workplace and a decent one is the same as the difference between a gas leak and fresh air, you don’t realize how much the first one was killing you until you finally step outside and take a real breath. I’m outside now. It’s nice. I forgot this existed.

Let me be honest about the side projects because they deserve acknowledgment and a mild roast. I have been dragging my feet on them with the dedication of someone who genuinely believes they’ll “get to it this weekend” every single weekend for nine months running. The ideas are good, I know they’re genuine, but good ideas sitting untouched are just expensive thoughts, and I’ve been hoarding them like a dragon who’s too tired to do anything with the gold. The toxic job didn’t just take my time. It took the creative give-a-shit that makes the work actually worth doing. That’s the part nobody warns you about. It’s not just the hours. It’s the bandwidth. The spark. The willingness to try something after already spending all day surviving something.

But that’s done now. The schedule is better. The headspace is clearing. And I have a niche that I actually care about, something that sits at the intersection of what I know, what I’ve lived through, and what I think people genuinely need to hear about that is not spoken enough about and doesn’t get enough attention. I’ve been standing at the edge of that lane for way too long, like someone who packed for a trip, drove to the airport, got to the gate, and then just sat there eating an overpriced sandwich instead of boarding. March is the boarding call. I’m putting the sandwich down, but the coffee is going with me!

Here’s the thing nobody likes to admit about starting fresh: it’s uncomfortable as hell. The next chapter doesn’t come with a synopsis. You don’t get to skim ahead. The whole thing is just blank pages and a pen and the mildly unhinged decision to fill them anyway. That uncertainty used to feel like standing on ice. Now it feels more like standing at the top of something worth climbing. A little exposed, a little breathless, but pointed in the right direction for the first time in a long while. And honestly? That terrifying but exciting, wide-open, what-the-hell-happens-next feeling might just be the most alive I’ve felt since this year started trying to humble me and lord knows I need some humility and a fresh perspective.

So here’s to March. May it be the month the work gets made, the momentum gets moving, and every person from the old job remains exactly where they belong, in the rearview, shrinking. I’m not here to make big promises. The year already taught me that big promises are just future embarrassments wearing a bow tie. I’m just here to show up, do the work, and find out what this thing becomes and that’s what excites me the most.

One month at a time. One page at a time. Let’s see how this chapter gets written.