Retreat-Reset/Future-Self Rendezvous 2025
Smudge the meme cat oversees our journey, while Zeus and I pull off the highway to stretch.
Things have been… complicated.
Not so long ago, I had a career, a partner, and a plan. And then, suddenly, I didn’t.
Notes from Dillon, Days 1–7
Right now, I’m sitting in the Colorado mountains. It’s mid-June. On the road, I barely touched my phone (except for Google Maps). When I did check in, the news was overwhelming—National Guard in LA, protests, chaos. My stomach twisted, so I switched off and let the landscape do its work. Southern Colorado’s wide-open spaces are good for that: big vistas, little traffic, room to breathe and let my mind wander.
It’s hard not to feel unmoored these days. The world feels fractured, and I’m still learning how to steady myself. Sometimes, I just sit and watch the clouds roll in over the snowy peaks, letting the less-beautiful foreground blur out of focus. Breathe.
A red plastic hummingbird feeder shaped like Texas swings in the wind. Hummingbirds check it out, but it’s empty. (Mental note: fill it soon.)
Storms come and go. The sun breaks through, lighting up the snow. I try to rest in the enoughness of all that.
The outside world keeps intruding—more political chaos, more uncertainty. I think about choices I’ve made: turning down a job in Canada to try to save a relationship, hoping for a message that never came. My therapist’s pained smile still lingers in my mind.
Today, the news is even more surreal. Flags, threats, more reasons to feel unsettled. I keep asking myself: flee or fight? I’m not great at fawning, and freezing never works for me. Leaving my job felt like a kind of flight—exhausting, but clarifying. It’s helped me see what matters.
So, as summer 2025 begins, I’m marking this moment. This post is a marker—a snapshot of where I am, and how I got here, as I start to map out what’s next.
17 days ago
Yesterday was my last day at the theatre. It was what you’d expect: packing, tossing, giving things away. I passed along my plant, but kept my red foam nose and Groucho glasses.
On June 5, Zeus and I hit the road for a month-long work retreat in Dillon, CO. My plan: set up a proper web shop for my art, refresh my Etsy, and—most importantly—draw, dream, and plan.
97 days ago
After 11 years on staff, I burned out. ADHD, perfectionism, menopause, and a tangle of workplace dynamics made it impossible to stay. There was so much I loved—creativity, challenge, community—but eventually, I had to admit I needed a big change.
127 days ago
And then, B lost his remote job, moved away, and—just like that—disappeared from my life. We had a plan, or so I thought. Suddenly, it was just me. And Zeus. (Thank the pantheon for dogs.)
So here I am, making a new plan. I’m choosing to prioritize this next phase: building the Art Life I have always wanted.
And so it begins… I go fill the hummingbird feeder.