Month: December 2025

Small-Town Hours

“Small-town living teaches you many things… like checking store hours before you get hungry. Dadgum.”

Living in a small town does take some getting used to.

I’ve been home in Metlakatla for over a year now, and I’ll be honest—I’m still not used to the hours of the gas station, the grocery store, or the mini mart. They close early. Sometimes really early. And every now and then, I’ll find myself standing there thinking, Wait… it’s already closed?

Down south, where I lived for a while, things were different. A lot of businesses stayed open late—many of them until 10 or 11 at night. You could decide at the last minute that you needed milk, snacks, or gas, and it was no big deal. You just went and got it.

Up here? You learn quickly that you have to plan ahead.

Now, am I complaining? I’m trying not to. I really am. I’m doing my best to look at the positive side of things. Being from a small town, I understand the hours. I understand staffing challenges. I understand that things move at a different pace—and that’s not always a bad thing.

Small-town life teaches you patience. It teaches you awareness. It teaches you to slow down and think ahead instead of rushing through life on impulse. In many ways, that’s actually a gift.

But still… dadgum.

Every once in a while, that late-night craving hits. Or you realize you forgot one important thing. And that’s when the adjustment really shows itself. No quick fix. No last-minute run. Just you, your thoughts, and the realization that tomorrow will have to do.

Living in a small town isn’t worse—it’s just different. And like most differences in life, it takes time to settle into. I’m getting there. Slowly. One early-closing door at a time.

Dadgum though.

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A Winter Thank You

Honoring the unseen hands that keep our town moving through winter

We are now in the heart of winter, and lately I’ve been pondering what it truly takes to keep our town moving during this season.

Winter brings a certain kind of beauty with it. Kids are out sledding, laughing, and making memories in the snow. Parents watch from the sidelines, smiling as they see the joy on their children’s faces. There’s something special about this time of year—a frozen wonderland that invites us to slow down and take it all in.

But while many of us are enjoying the snow, there are others who are working right through it.

They are the ones up before the sun breaks the horizon. The ones driving into storms instead of staying home from them. The ones clearing our roadways so the rest of us can get to work, get our kids to school, run errands, and live our daily lives as safely as possible.

These road crews often work long, exhausting hours. Many times, their work goes unnoticed. It’s thankless at times, taken for granted even—but it is absolutely essential.

I want to say how thankful I am for those who keep our roads clear, especially the Gunyahs and all those working behind the scenes. And I’m thankful for their wives and families too—those who understand the early mornings, late nights, and missed moments that come with this season of work.

Because of them, our town keeps moving.

So as you’re out and about this winter, please be careful. Slow down. Be mindful of the conditions—and of the people working hard so you can safely get where you’re going.

To those who brave the cold, the dark, and the storms to keep our roads clear: thank you. It is very, very much appreciated.

— Alex

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📝 Notes by Alex: Writer’s Block – The Great Shut Down

The Great Shutdown: When Indifference Becomes the Hardest Feeling

It’s been a week. Maybe two. I open my laptop, stare at the blinking cursor on the blank page, and… nothing. The well is dry, folks. Not just dry, but capped with a thick slab of concrete labeled: “YEAH, OKAY, WHATEVER.”

That label. That feeling. It’s what I’m struggling with today, and it’s what brought me here to talk about a very specific kind of writer’s block—the emotional one.

The Shutdown Mechanism

Have you ever been hurt to the point that a part of you just shuts down?

It’s not a dramatic collapse. It’s a subtle, insidious numbness that creeps in after the big wave of pain has passed. You’re not crying on the floor, you’re not raging at the sky. Instead, you’re just existing, gliding through life on a thin sheet of practiced indifference.

When people ask how you are, the default answer is a pleasant, empty, “Fine.” And when something genuinely good or bad happens, the emotional response is the same, muted drone: “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

For me, that feeling is pure poison. I try to be positive, upbeat, and stubbornly hopeful. That’s my brand! That’s how I navigate the world. But some days, holding onto that hope feels like gripping a slippery rope on a sheer cliff face. It’s exhausting.

This emotional shutdown is like a short circuit in my creative wiring. How can I write about joy, pain, wonder, or connection when my internal translator is stuck on that one phrase? I can’t access the genuine emotion I need to pour onto the page. The words feel flat, hollow, and utterly inauthentic.

The Challenge of Positivity

We live in a world that glorifies resilience, strength, and endless hustle. We are told to choose joy, to manifest success, to power through. And while I believe in the importance of a positive outlook, sometimes the effort it takes to maintain it when you’re truly hurting feels like a challenge too big to meet.

It makes me wonder: Is the “Yeah, okay, whatever” feeling a defense mechanism? Is it my exhausted spirit throwing up a white flag, saying, “I can’t afford to feel deeply right now, because feeling deeply might break me again?”

Maybe. But a writer who can’t feel is a mechanic without tools. I need my emotions—the good, the bad, the complicated—to be open and running, even if it makes me vulnerable.

An Open Question

I’m sitting here, pushing through the concrete cap, trying to find the genuine spark of feeling underneath. I’m doing the little things: I put on a good playlist, made a proper coffee, and decided to write about the fact that I can’t write.

It helps a little. Honesty is always a good starting point.

So, here is my question for you, my amazing readers:

Does anyone else struggle with this thought? With the battle between wanting to be upbeat and the overwhelming need to just shut down and protect yourself? How do you push past the emotional “whatever” and reconnect with your genuine, messy, feeling self?

I’m looking for inspiration today. Maybe, by sharing your strategies, you can help me—and others who might be stuck in this same emotional no-man’s-land—find the way back to hope, and back to the page.

Drop a comment below. Let’s talk.

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