Leaving Off Grid

Nothing dramatic happened. The power still comes on. The water still flows. The systems you built are doing what they’ve always done. From the outside, this looks like any other day lived the same way you’ve lived it for years.

What changed is quieter. The thought showed up and didn’t leave. Not how do I get out, not when, not even if. Just the awareness that leaving is now something you think about while you’re doing the same work you’ve always done.

It comes up during ordinary moments. Fixing something that didn’t fully break. Planning around weather again. Running the same calculations you’ve run hundreds of times, only now you notice how automatic they’ve become.

You’re not unhappy. You’re not panicking. You’re not failing at this life. You’re just noticing the effort more clearly than you used to, and noticing how often the systems still ask something from you even on good days.

Staying off grid was never a single decision. It was a long chain of choices that made sense at the time and still mostly do. Leaving, if it ever happens, feels heavier—not because it’s urgent, but because it would require explaining something that isn’t wrong.

This site exists to hold that space. The place where everything still works, you’re still capable, and yet the question has entered the room and quietly stayed.