excellent money in Manhattan, but one night, sitting inside a glass office tower at two in the morning staring at spreadsheets, I realized something uncomfortable.
I was very good at a life I didn’t actually want.
So I left.
I moved to Vermont.
Using the money I had saved, I bought a small farm and started building a quieter life.
My mother viewed the decision almost like a personal tragedy.
Madison treated it as evidence that I had “given up.”
Neither of them understood that I had never felt more
