I moved. I changed.

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation for abandoning a side quest, but thus begins the part of the story where one might hear that record scratch and the "you're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation."

Well, dear readers – all [redacted] of you – I'm here to share.

I didn't set out to take such a sabbatical from my writing but the world took me elsewhere, and frankly I let it.

In the fall there were celebrations, diplomatic emergencies, a trip of a lifetime to Japan. My boss quit. I was passed up for promotion. I continued to burn at both ends, often working until 10 or 11 at night. Then my invisible illnesses took a turn for the worse, and I had to get creative about my care.

Come January, I was practically a shell of my former self. As one of my favorite shows so eloquently put it: "a Xerox of a Xerox of a person." I knew it wasn't sustainable, had known for years, but knowing and doing are two very different things.

It took a dentist to finally say it out loud:

"It looks like you started to grind your teeth in the last year, and you have a lot of tension in your jaw. You might need four crowns."

It was then that I finally decided I didn't want to live in DC anymore.

The word "unclench" is both a transitive and intransitive verb from Middle English first recorded in 1647. Merriam-Webster defines it three ways:

• to open from a clenched position (naturally)
• to release from a grip
• to become unclasped or relaxed

The anesthesia was wearing off after my first crown when I started thinking I might need a mindset shift.

What if it all works out?

What if I took what was left of the corroded battery in my body and steered it somewhere worth going?

It occurred to me – sheepishly perhaps for the first time – that when I dedicate myself fully to something, it does, in fact, happen. Sure, there's been times in my life where I didn't get what I wanted, or the outcome wasn't necessarily what I had hoped. But the places I wanted to go, the languages and skills learned, loved ones both nurtured and left behind, the character of the person I wanted to become? Yeah, I did always find those wins.

Life is a series of choices, both active and passive. Most of my so-called failures came from a combination of apathy and a lack of focus. I gave up. I let others win because I'm not that type of competitive.

I thought back to all of the decisive actions I've taken in my life, in which I refused to be a passive character in my own story and familiar words from the Ghost of English Classes' past filled my brain: "I am the master of my fate and the captain of my soul."

And so I unclenched.

The last six months were a lot to carry. I wrote poetry for the first time in years, a surprise wedding gift for my sister who is also starting new beginnings. I went on eight work trips (tropical and non-tropical), and won 2k in my first try at Blackjack– I'll quit while I'm ahead. I dropped my less-than-two-weeks notice, said goodbye to some of the greatest people I've ever met, and left a city that was no longer serving me.

But when the time came to head north, it was easier than I expected. Turns out release comes naturally once you stop fighting it.

The new apartment feels a bit like a fishbowl. High above the ice, we can see the ships sail (and capsize) in the harbor. Neighbors who clearly don't know they can be seen. Noah Kahan's least favorite airport yet to be hit by a tornado. A few close calls with a box cutter and some impulsive Wayfair purchases later, it feels like the home I always wanted to create. All the bits and pieces of my past lives honored in small ways throughout this new chapter.

I built in some time for myself in this transition: four weeks of freedom and funemployment. For a minute there, my lack of work phone felt like a phantom limb though cortisol levels have subsequently stabilized. While I desperately needed rest, my body woke me up most days at dawn. There's something ethereal to this space and the red-orange glow reflecting into the bedroom – far better than any Hatch alarm clock could provide.

With more daylight hours available to me, I've seen all the art this city has to offer and walked miles through brownstone filled streets and made way for ducklings. The city has been so alive – energized and inspired by other countries' patriotism – that it might even change its liquor laws.

I also made a concerted effort to try to see my people. Old friends I thought were chapters already written, now reopened. New friends, who get to see me as the person I am and not who I've been growing into for 34 years. Silver and gold, as they say.

This week feels most decisive. Not just because I'm off today to the DMV – I know it's R here but old habits die hard.

Rather, for the first time in a long time I am reaping the benefits of a decision that was entirely my own. And those who've known me longest aren't exactly surprised. There's no plot twist or reinvention. Just someone who got a little too comfortable being between a rock and a hard place – who forgot, for longer than she'd care to admit – that she was the one holding the tension in the first place.

That's the thing about agency. You don't find it. You just stop pretending you lost it.

So I moved, I changed. This time I'm allowing myself to live more fully. And yes, dedicating energy to write again.

Thank you for reading (if you're still here - you're a real one). Wanted to leave you with a favorite poem that feels particularly apt for this season of my life:

The Journey - Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles
'Mend my life!'
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Until Soon – I mean it this time, I promise.

Sarah