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Hi there. I’m still collecting my thoughts on what lessons I learned from my recent sabbatical, attempting to put them together into a few essays worth sharing. It’s not been easy.
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How do I tell you about getting fired for not wanting to work over Christmas or ending up lost in the woods all night without flashlight, phone, or compass? I don’t know. What about living phone-free for a month and trying to navigate life, travel, and restaurants without apps or QR readers? It’s been a ride, my friends, and I’m trying to figure out where to begin. So how about we start with a word? I know it’s annoyingly fashionable to choose a word for the year. But cliche as it may be, this practice didn’t feel like a choice this year—more like something predetermined.
Last year was one of the most chaotic experiences of my life, filled with so many ups and downs, that it could be a book. It was a lot. Too much, at times. So many forces pulling at me from so many angles, all asking for more, more, more. The more just about cracked me. It was the year that I decided to break up with busy, a time that taught me to step away from our cultural obsession with activity and become more comfortable with not keeping up.
Of course, such decisions can make a person seem weird to a world prone to constant noise and motion. After all, who isn’t prone to complaining about how busy they are, how impossible it is to keep up with the demands on their time—and still keep doing it? But I just couldn’t. Not anymore. Had to call it quits before it all caught up with me in the worst way possible.
To be sure, no choice is without consequence. As a result of opting out, I defaulted on a few bills, nearly missed the fact that a friend of mine was dying, and almost got eaten by killer coyotes in the highlands of Tennessee.
It may, then, come as no surprise that the inevitable word of the year for 2024 is “enough.”
Whatever time I have to give, whatever energy is mine to offer, whatever money sits in the bank account—let it be “enough.” This is a radical notion, I know, to not be driven by the belief that I am inadequate. “Always trying to be better,” a friend once told me, as if the phrase were on autopilot in his mind.
Our culture praises such dispositions of insufficiency, albeit in subtle ways: congratulating you when you don’t quit, celebrating those who hold themselves to the highest possible standards, even expecting service providers to go the extra mile, always—without ever fully understanding the ramifications of such demands.
After a while, these things become untenable. A lifetime of endless striving turns out to be not much of a life at all. It is, instead, a cycle of constant consumption, guilt, and self-neglect—a series of sprints without end, checklists that are never complete, and a body which yearns for the full rest it never receives.
And then, you die (probably sooner than you thought).
So much of my life has been marked by a fear that who I am is not enough. That I am fundamentally flawed. There is, I have thought for some time, something wrong with me. And if only I could fix that thing, then I just might be okay. This sense of incompleteness has haunted me my whole life, driven me and served as the bedrock of so many decisions. It has caused me to push harder and demand more from myself than necessary. And for decades, people thanked me for the punishment I inflicted on myself. Congratulated me for doing so.
As you can imagine, these habits tend to catch up with a person, causing them to eventually feel pretty damn exhausted after a while. I know I am not alone in this exhaustion. I see it on the faces of my peers and neighbors, hear it in the tired resignation from colleagues and coworkers. And yet, because everyone seems to be doing it, no one feels comfortable letting go. This tendency is largely what we have to thank for our heightened levels of anxiety, depression, and chronic illness in a society that should otherwise be producing thriving individuals.
I don’t know much about fixing any of that, though. All I know is I’m done. Done with striving, done with pushing myself so hard that I’ll never be able to catch up to my own expectations. And as I attempt to slow down the pace of my own life, I start to notice how much clearer everything feels. How beautiful it all is. It turns out that I don’t need as much as I thought. More is not necessary when what I have is enough. A warm bed, good meal, hug from my kids, and a wife greeting me at the end of a long day—these are little luxuries I try to not take for granted.
I look forward to a future of sufficiency. What will my year bring? I don’t know. Will “enough” actually be enough, or will all my “no”s lead to isolation and desolation? I’m not sure. But what I do know—what I have to believe—is that it will be an adventure.
Other Updates
In typical “me” fashion, when I do not know what to say, I have plenty of words to share. But just know that more is coming. Much more. But, you know, not that kind of “more.” The good kind. For now, the best I have been able to do is capture a few of my thoughts into a couple of poems. If you missed them, here they are:
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In other news, I wanted to give you a quick heads up on a couple of offerings you may be interested in.
Next week is my live author boot camp for planning your book. This is a four-hour live bootcamp hosted on Zoom. We’re capping the attendance at twenty and still have room for a handful of last-minute signups. The price goes up on Monday, so if you want to squeeze in, you’ve got a little time to do so. Remember that if you can’t make it live, you can watch the recordings later and get your questions answered via email. Otherwise, I would love to see you there. I’m not sure when we’ll do the next one. All the details are here.
Between now and the end of the month, I’m pulling one of my best writing courses out of the vault and running a “flash sale” on it. Typically, a flash is something that happens for 24 to 48 hours, but since I’m not a huge fan of rushing, this will be available between now and the end of the month. If you join the bootcamp, you’ll get this $500 course for free as an added bonus for those who attend the event. Otherwise, you can get it for a fraction of what it would normally cost. Check it out here. After January 31, it’ll go back into the vault.
The Invitation
Lastly, I want to invite you into this Year of Enough with me. I don’t know what that looks like for you, but I’d love to hear about it. And if you are inclined, I welcome your support of this publication and my work this year. It’s a small monthly fee to follow along (cheaper if you sign up for the whole year), and I’ll share the following:
Monthly member calls where I share updates on my latest project, teach a little, share a poem or two, and answer any questions you have on the writing life.
Behind-the-scenes access to the writing of my next book (yes, it’s coming, and I’d like to share the process with you as it begins to come together).
Exclusive product discounts and invitations to events, offers, and more.
Other surprises along the way.
Most importantly, your support means I can continue this work as an author. It not only encourages me to keep writing and sharing but makes it financially possible for me to keep doing so and keeps this publication moving forward. Plus, we’re starting to see a community come together, and that’s been fun. Who knows what the future might hold.
Question for you: What’s your year about, as best you can tell right now? Feel free to share in the comments. It could be a word, a theme, or a brief story. Would love to hear all about it. And if you’re with me on the “enough” train, a simple “I’m in” would do just fine.
Thank you for reading The Ghost. This post is public so feel free to share it.
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