When I was 31 years old, death became my savior.
I had reached a crux of my adult life which featured me, in the same red wine and tear-stained light blue yoga pants I'd been wearing for a week straight. Unable to make myself get off the couch and do this thing my midwestern upbringing was telling me to do...
You know, that thing with the job and the weekends and the marriage and the once-a-year vacations and the retirement.
All the people around me seemingly had found contentment in the simplicity of this lifestyle, but I knew in my heart there was something different for me.
I'd been knowing this for many years actually, but I was scared.
You see, back then I wasn't equipped with the trust I have now in my own creative capacities or in the perfection of the universe. I was so damn scared that it would backfire on me... that I'd be a fool to stray from what 'works'. I was scared that I would fail.
But do you know what I was even more scared of?
I was terrified of living a life that...
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