Six years ago, I was on a ski lift in New Mexico.
It was Thanksgiving week. Family vacation. One of those trips you plan months in advance and talk about all year.
I should've been present. Grateful. Enjoying it.
Instead, I was on the phone with a Meta ads rep, troubleshooting a client's Facebook account that had gone down. In the middle of my vacation. On a ski lift. Wearing gloves that made it impossible to type.
I remember thinking, "This is insane."
Not the client's fault. Not even the job's fault, really. It was mine. I had chosen a path where Thanksgiving week wasn't mine to control. Where vacations came with the unspoken expectation that I'd still be available. Still solving problems. Still putting out fires.
That moment stuck with me. Not because it was the worst day of my life, but because it showed me what I'd signed up for. A life where freedom wasn't really free.
The freedom you earn but don't take
Fast forward to today. This week, we have lots of emails going out. Products shipping. Books selling. Business happening.
But here's the difference: nothing vital is resting on our shoulders this week. We've built businesses that don't require us to be on a ski lift fixing problems. We can shut it off. We can be present. We can actually take Thanksgiving.
That's the dream, right?
Except here's what I've learned: earning that freedom and exercising it are two different things.
Old habits die hard
Even now, I have to fight the urge to work. My brain is still wired from a decade in the agency world (or maybe just how I’m wired), where Thanksgiving week was make-or-break for retail clients. Where being unavailable meant letting people down. Where "vacation" was just working from a different location.
I've conditioned myself to push. To achieve. To always be two steps ahead. And that's not entirely bad. It's helped us build what we have. But it also makes it hard to stop. Hard to celebrate. Hard to just be grateful for what's already here.
She's better at this than I am
Tabitha's different. When we hit a new royalty milestone with our books, she celebrates. When we land a bigger wholesale deal, she's genuinely excited.
Me? I'm already thinking about the next one. She'll say, "We did it!" and I'll say, "Yeah, but imagine if we could do this..."
It's exhausting. For her. For me.
But here's the gift of building with your spouse: they balance you. She reminds me to stop. To look around. To see what we've already built instead of just chasing what's next.
And when I actually listen? When I actually pause and let myself feel grateful? It makes everything better. The wins feel sweeter. The work feels more purposeful. The partnership feels stronger.
Gratitude isn't passive
Here's what I'm learning this Thanksgiving: Gratitude isn't something that just happens. It's something you choose. Especially when you're building something. Especially when you're wired to always want more.
You have to stop. You have to look your spouse in the eye and say, "We did this. Together. And it's good."
Not "it's perfect." Not "we've arrived." Just... it's good. And we're grateful.
That choice to be present, to celebrate what you have even when you want more, that's what makes building with your spouse worth it.
Because the business will always have another milestone. Another goal. Another fire to put out. But today? Today you get to choose gratitude.
Here's what to do this week:
Sometime this week, maybe today, maybe tomorrow, sit down with your spouse. Tell them one thing you're grateful for.
Maybe it's what you've already built together. Maybe it's what you're building toward. Maybe it's the job that got you here, or the way you've been able to raise your kids so far.
Just one thing. Out loud. To them.
And if you're still in the grind, still on the metaphorical ski lift, still solving problems on vacation, tell them this: "One day, we're going to build something where Thanksgiving is actually ours. Where our life is actually ours. And when we do, I'm going to stop and be grateful with you."
That's the partnership. That's the gift. Not just building together. But celebrating together. Even when you have bigger dreams ahead.
-Jordan 🤠
P.S. Know someone still on the ski lift? Share this with them.
Jordan Schmitt
