The Documentary

  If you asked me five years ago what my dream job looked like, I would’ve said this: working from home, setting my own schedule, no more traffic, no more awkward small talk with coworkers I barely knew. It sounded perfect. And for a while, it was. I started freelancing just before the pandemic hit, which made the transition smoother than it was for most. While others scrambled to adapt to Zoom calls and home offices, I had already turned my second bedroom into a workspace and had a rhythm going. I thought I had it all figured out. But no one talks about the quiet. At first, that silence was golden. It meant peace, focus, and long stretches of uninterrupted time. I could write, design, or edit for hours without a single person breaking my concentration. I felt efficient. Productive. Free. Then winter came. It crept in slowly — not the cold, but the emptiness. Days would pass and I’d realize I hadn’t spoken a single word aloud. My meals were silent. My mornings, still. I’d walk into...