Dare to Dream Big - Midlifehood Edition | Week 12 Post-layoff

"The dream you'll be most proud of is the one you're afraid to say out loud." — Mark Pentecost

Have you ever noticed how we stop dreaming as we get older? Somewhere between mortgage payments, career ladders, and adult responsibilities, many of us pack away our wildest dreams like childhood toys—nice to reminisce about but not practical for everyday life.

This week, my sister sent me a podcast featuring Mark Pentecost, a former teacher who transformed his life by giving himself permission to dream again. His journey from struggling on a teacher's salary to creating financial freedom resonated deeply with me, especially as Bryan and I navigate our own post-layoff, midlifehood reinvention.

What struck me most was Pentecost's insight about dream killers versus dream supporters. He emphasized surrounding yourself with people who encourage your vision rather than those who immediately point out all the reasons why it won't work. As we continue shaping our tiny house and travel plans, it reminds us not to be deterred by well-meaning naysayers.

This Week's Reality Check:

• ✓ 12 camper floor tiles installed (using 23 of 24 tiles purchased—apparently we needed that margin for error!)
• ✓ Outdoor projects completed: deck stained, weeds pulled, mulch laid
• ✓ Storage unit secured and camper insurance finalized
• ✓ First camper tow completed (with valuable lessons learned)
• ✓ Bryan's passport arrived (mine still "processing"—the universe teaching me patience)
• ✓ Both cars now fit in the garage (small victory, big satisfaction)

What We're Actually Doing:

Living on Offense, Not Defense

One concept from the podcast that keeps circling in my mind is the difference between living on defense versus offense. For years, I've been reactive—putting out fires at work, responding to others' priorities, and generally letting life dictate my direction rather than the other way around.

What does living on offense actually look like? Here's a perfect example from our week: When I was working my full-time job, I'd often delay personal projects because "there wasn't enough time" between deadlines and meetings. Every home improvement task felt like squeezing one more obligation into an already packed schedule—playing defense against an overwhelming to-do list.

This week, with no meetings dictating our schedule, we proactively decided which projects deserved our time and attention. Instead of the deck staining being something we'd "get to eventually" (which might mean next year), we saw the forecast, blocked off the day, and completed it on our terms. That's offense—deciding what matters to us and making it happen rather than letting circumstances determine when or if it happens.

The internet outage we experienced this week unexpectedly created space for us to complete analog projects and reconnect with a simpler way of being. There was something liberating about being temporarily untethered from the digital world. It transported me back to childhood summers spent outdoors from dawn till dusk, where connection meant something entirely different than Wi-Fi strength.

This forced disconnection became a perfect metaphor for our current life transition: sometimes you need to unplug from the expected path to discover possibilities you hadn't considered.

The Satisfaction of Working with Your Hands

This week's focus was on preparing the camper to temporarily go to storage, while we prepare for our garage sale and potential home showings. The first thing we needed to do was install the flooring. It was a humbling and rewarding experience. The first few hours were filled with mistakes and frustration as we tried to figure out our approach. But slowly, we developed a rhythm and problem-solving strategy that worked.

We also added the Subaru "badges" to the car, which shows that this is our first Subaru and also shows our interests. Subaru's way of connecting the Subaru owner community.

We finally found the perfect phone mount for our adventures! (third time's a charm). I thought my requirements were simple: I didn't want it to attach or block a vent, I didn't want anything that would attach permanently to the car and I didn't want a cupholder type. Enter the "A-tach" (pronounced "attach") phone mount - built by a veteran owned, family business in the US. It checks all of my boxes and works perfectly.

They hand mill and heat form their mounts in a local facility so their products are always in stock and they go the extra mile with customer service. If you're in the market for a new phone mount, check 'em out. (we receive no incentive with the above link, we just like spreading the word to support small businesses and their products when we're impressed.)

There's something deeply satisfying about completing a physical project—seeing tangible results from your labor. In our increasingly digital world, these small, analog accomplishments feel especially meaningful.

Dreaming Without Timelines

In January, before any hint of a layoff, Bryan and I created vision boards featuring images of freedom, travel, health, and balanced living. Looking at them now, it's remarkable how those aspirations align perfectly with our current path—as if some part of us knew what we needed before circumstances forced our hand.

What's interesting is that when January 2025 arrived, I didn't update my vision board because those dreams hadn't changed. (I even used a cork board so I could change them each year, if needed!) I've realized it's okay if dreams don't conform to neat annual timelines. Some visions need more time to germinate, while others suddenly accelerate when circumstances shift.

The pressure to achieve dreams on specific timelines feels particularly strong in midlife. There's this unspoken expectation that by our 40s or 50s, we should have everything figured out. But what I'm learning is that some of the most fulfilling dreams don't follow conventional schedules.

For instance, when we first created our vision boards, "freedom" was this abstract concept that felt years away. We imagined it might come after paying off the mortgage or reaching retirement age. Now, post-layoff, we're redefining freedom on our own terms—finding it in small moments like choosing to work on projects that bring us joy instead of obligation, or in the decision to downsize to a tiny home that will give us more financial flexibility.

The timeline shifted dramatically, but the dream itself remains intact. This has been one of the most liberating revelations of our journey so far.

The tiny house community we're considering has only a few lots remaining that would work for our plans. This creates a natural tension between moving deliberately and moving quickly. While this uncertainty is the most stressful part of our transition, it's also teaching us to hold our dreams firmly but our timelines loosely.

Taking Small Test Runs

Our first experience towing the camper to storage was a perfect lesson in preparation meets reality. Despite watching videos and reading guides, nothing quite prepared us for the actual feeling of having our little adventure-home-on-wheels hitched to Suby-doo.

When the tail lights wouldn't work consistently, we discovered that the plug needed to be inserted upside down—despite appearing to fit better the other way. Sometimes the "wrong" approach is exactly right, a lesson that applies to more than just camper connections.

The strange "push/pull" sensation during driving reminded us that even the most carefully planned journeys require adjustments along the way. Rather than being discouraged, we're grateful for these mini-lessons before bigger adventures begin.

With the camper (not yet named) out of the garage, we have the space to declutter the house and prepare for a garage sale when weather permits. I finally now have the bandwidth and physical space needed for that whole-house declutter and deep cleaning that simmered on the back burner for three months while we worked on building the bookkeeping business. I'm looking forward to the additional analog work.

Let's Talk:

The hardest dream for me to say out loud initially was "I want to leave my full-time job." Even as I was burning out, admitting that I wanted a completely different lifestyle felt almost irresponsible. What about retirement savings? Health insurance? The security we'd worked so hard to build?

But the layoff (and universe) gave me a kick in the pants. The question shifted from "Could we ever do this?" to "How do we make this work?"

What dream have you been afraid to say out loud? Is there a vision you've tucked away because it seems impractical or because someone once told you it wasn't possible? What small step could you take this week to bring that dream into the light? And any suggestions for naming our camper?

Looking Forward:

Next week we'll focus on preparing for our garage sale (the pile grows daily!) and meeting with realtors to better understand our timeline and potential expected outcome. We're also researching the best places to camp within a few hours' drive for our inaugural camping trip—suggestions welcome!

Until next week, remember that living intentionally sometimes means daring to dream impractically. The life you haven't yet imagined might be waiting just beyond your comfort zone.

Here's to choosing our own path together.

Note: This post is part of our weekly "Reinventing Midlifehood" series, chronicling our journey of intentional living and rediscovering what matters after a midlife career transition.

If this post was shared with you, we hope you'll join us as we explore the freedom that comes from choosing your own path rather than following conventional wisdom.