10/22/2025
Procrastination has always come easily to me. Delaying the uncomfortable until the final possible moment, yet somehow always getting the project done and with high marks more often than not. The primary issue with this method is when it comes to tasks with no clear deadline. For people pleasers, eldest daughters, and/or neuro-spicy folks like myself, procrastination often turns into avoiding the items on our to-do-lists which hold the highest personal stakes. Trauma goes unprocessed, grief is pushed into the dark corners, and all other forms of self-care are relegated to “in-case of emergency” last resorts, meant only to prolong this dissociative existence.
Let’s be honest, even that first paragraph was my procrastinating the reason for writing this post. To rip off the bandaid… Whet Studio, is no more. I opened back in April of 2019; becoming a small business owner was an answer to being forced out of my chosen career due to my worsening disability. Creating the woodshop of my dreams kept me sane through the pandemic and my battle with a life-threatening brain tumor a few years later. While in recovery from multiple neurosurgeries, I made the difficult decision to pivot from being a woodworker/artist with a huge private studio, to becoming the owner and studio manager of a small community woodshop. Once again, it wasn’t the future I had hoped for, but at least this way I wouldn’t have to give up the space I had spent the last three years transforming. Fast forward to May of this year, Whet Studio was home to a small community of makers and was finally paying for itself; I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. This is when I received written notice of my Landlord’s decision to put the building up for sale; reversing countless, unsolicited assurances I had received from him in the two years since he inherited the property. ..
(Continued in comment section)
