Walking through the fire

On taking the mind off the burning hellscape and seeing some good

Image courtesy of Ula Kaniuch via Dupe Photos.

In March of 2020, I left my townhouse in West Seattle, took the bus into downtown, and walked into my office for one of the last times. I was there, in my ugly plastic office chair at my fancy sit-stand desk, for less than half the day before I got the email from the employee comms department. I can’t recall now exactly what the email said, but it ordered all employees to leave immediately and work from home for the next two weeks. “It’ll blow over by then” was the overall takeaway. So we left.

Little did I know I would be here, still working from home, six years later.

A lot has changed since then, of course. I no longer live in my Seattle townhouse, but rather in an actual house in the suburbs north of the city. I no longer work for that initial company, either. I’m now a freelancer working for myself. However, before I found that path, I took a detour to a startup that had me commuting to the office three days a week despite none of my teammates even living in my state. It was there where I realized that life was too short not to spend it at home.

While quarantined in my house in 2020, two years before that realization, I bought an online copywriting course. In retrospect, it was kind of silly considering how well versed I already was in the actual craft of copywriting. However, the main reason I purchased it was to learn how to make a self-sufficient business of it. I loved working from home, but I hated being chained to my desk as a cog in the corporate wheel. My soul was dying. I wanted to get out. I wanted freedom, but I was scared. I needed a step-by-step of the nitty gritty—the taxes, the pricing, all of it—and most of what the course outlined in that regard was helpful. The rest, that is, my actual clients, kind of just fell into place, which has not only been a complete blessing, but also a signal of alignment. It feels right for me.

I love working for myself, and I love working from home for the most part. I love getting up at a reasonable hour and spending less than ten minutes on my face, hair, and outfit. I love getting to eat breakfast with my husband, and seeing him all day long, for that matter, because he also works from home. I love getting to walk (and smother) my dog whenever I want. I really love never having to wear regular pants or a real bra and never having to sit on public transportation or in traffic.

I will admit, however, that my days can be monotonous. Routine is good for structure, but it’s also good for making every day feel like Groundhog Day. As a freelancer, I have few coworkers. I really only talk to my husband and my dog most days, aside from my friends over text, which obviously isn’t the same. Some days, especially if it’s raining too hard or if my husband walks Aspen instead, I’ll realize I haven’t even left the house.

Today would have been one of those days had I not decided to take a walk despite Aspen already getting hers. I set out with Margaret Atwood’s memoir in my ears and took a slightly different route than I usually do, trying to change up the scenery. I know the brain needs novelty, so I tried to lean in. Despite being semi-distracted by the audiobook, I still tried to pay intentional attention to my surroundings. In doing so, I noticed a house on the block I only walk through occasionally that received a new paint job. It was a gorgeous deep teal color that made the natural stonework of the foundation pop. It’s not a color I likely would have chosen for a house exterior (and I couldn’t tell you what color it was before), but it was beautiful. I even stopped and admired it for a moment.¹

Shortly after that, I ran into two people I occasionally see on my park outings with Aspen. It was on the stretch of sidewalk bordering the main road where my usual walk takes me. It’s a section I don’t usually like because it’s always so loud compared to the quiet neighborhood streets, even with headphones in. Though, today, it was so much nicer to see two familiar and friendly faces (three if you include their dog, Tilly). We stopped and chatted for a bit, talking about the beautiful sunny days we’ve had recently—a rarity during the Seattle-area winter.

As I approached the four-way stop before my street, I noticed my next door neighbor walking her dog. We converged at the intersection at the same time and proceeded to walk up our street together. She’s one of the neighbors I’ve seen the most, and even then it’s not very often.² Still, I enjoy running into her because we always end up having great conversation. Today, we talked about the state of the world (our country, in particular), and though the topic was rather depressing, it was nice to know that someone else out there—and not just someone on social media—feels the same way; someone else who lives where I live sees and is upset by the same things I’m seeing and being upset by.

If that wasn’t validating enough, our conversation evolved into one about her job as an ER nurse and my “retirement” from teaching barre. I brought up my pesky foot injury, which likely started during my time as an instructor, and told her the saga that was just getting a diagnosis. I mentioned I had seen an initial local doctor, whose name and clinic I could no longer remember, and she guessed them immediately after hearing about my poor experience. It turns out, my neighbor had worked with said doctor at said clinic. “Oh, yeah, I know her,” she said. “She bit my head off on the first day.” She also said her son briefly dated the doctor’s daughter and luckily she dumped him. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I felt validated on so many levels.³

There’s something to be said about a solitary walk, for sure. It can be centering, decompressing. I often prefer it, especially when I walk Aspen, who can be rather spirited, for lack of a better word, on our walks. But there’s also something to be said for a spontaneously social walk like the one I had today. It is so energizing and connective. I still remember the times of quarantine, where a walk was the highlight of the day, the one thing you got to do and maybe see another living being. And for someone like me, who, six years later, still works from home day in and day out and sometimes gets sucked into the dysregulating vortex that is current events, it serves as a reminder that there are still some good things out in the world. You just have to get out there so you can find them.

Things are feeling pretty heavy these days with everything going on in the world. For me, it makes leaving the house that much harder. If you’re also feeling exhausted and overwhelmed by it all, here’s a small note to say “I see you.” I hope you can do something restorative for yourself. I will say, a walk really does help. 🫶

1. And by “admired,” I mean I stood and took a picture of it so I could show Will how pretty it was lol.

2. Also, surprise, she’s a former Mormon. I’m telling you, I’m a Mormon magnet.

3. It is SO EASY to gaslight yourself in a doctor’s office. We’re taught that lab coats know all, and a lot of the time they do. Some of them are just dickheads about it. Though I knew what my experience in that particular doctor’s office was like, a tiny piece of me wondered if I was just being “too sensitive.” It turns out, I wasn’t. She was just one of the dickheads.