i just cancelled all operations for the business that i founded, own and have managed for over a year now. i closed my online accounts. i cancelled my subscriptions.

the business, metaphorically speaking, has closed its doors.

this is something that i should have done a long time ago. the business has become a crutch for me, a distraction, a reason for existing, a way of surviving instead of living.

this past year, i’ve worked tirelessly. i’ve served hundreds of people, donated or resold hundreds of thousands of items. most days, i work all day, sunrise to sunset.

this spring i decided (wisely, i wish i had listened to myself) that the business was not for me. i realized, or, rather, admitted to myself that it was not work that i enjoyed, even if i had, once. i worked to sell the business.

i failed to do so. and i fell back into the same pattern, the spiraling, the addiction, the practice that sucked time away from me, that kept me moving, that prevented me from sinking below the surface.

the job that was always there, always available, omnipresent. the job that made money, sure.

the appeal of having more money is remarkable. because every second i spent on the business meant making more money, immediately. so i continued. i continued to force myself to do work i did not enjoy, because each little action, each little step, brought in another 10, 20, 100 bucks.

but with each extra dollar i’ve earned, my life has gotten worse, not better. i rarely spend that money on myself, no, i spend it on the business in order to make more of that useless, useless cash.

i’ve learned this much.

there is no end to our thirst for money. i will never, ever, reach a point with the business where i’m satisfied with the money i’ve made and the impact i’ve had. because there is always, always, a way for me to earn more. just a little more.

and that was always the problem.

it’s hard for me to let go declutter usa. it’s been a remarkable journey. i’m proud of the business i’ve created. and a feel the shame from myself and the community (whether it exists or not) for letting it die.

but sometimes improving one’s life is a matter of making space. it’s a matter of letting go, it’s about allowing better things to come and take the place of what used to be.

that’s my mission with this decision. i have no idea what comes next. and honestly, boredom terrifies me. i’m scared the business has kept me afloat, activated, productive, useful, busy. and i’m unsure who i’ll be without it.

but that’s life i suppose. that’s how any addiction works. our brains become accustomed to, structured around, hanging on to that which we’re used to, even if we desperately want to let go.

and i desperately want to let go.