Perspective · The Vinew collective

Perspective

I’ve felt extra grippy lately.

Going into November, I had a clear plan: be credit-card free, have cash in my pocket, and head into 2026 with a solid plan. I was so energized that I decided we would close the shop for four full days—revamp the space and launch Whatnot to help fund our nonprofit mission.

We started strong. There was excitement and momentum.

But I spent so much of my energy helping with shows. Boxing, bagging, learning, pulling, cleaning—that I never finished revamping the store. I didn’t even finish the task. When we reopened, it was still messy. So messy that I started apologizing to everyone who walked through the door. I kept adding more shows just to shrink the mess instead of actually solving it.

I am grateful we’re learning auctions. Weeks like this—when ice shuts everything down—having a creative way to make money matters and itallowed us to at least cover payroll. That matters more than pride.

But internally, I hadn’t been thankful. I hadn’t been optimistic. I hadn’t made the best use of my time. I was at the shop every day, but much of it was meetings, Zoom calls, statements, and website work—not the tangible progress I expected. That disconnect is where my perspective started to slip.

Then the same night we were supposed to have our first freeze, our water pump went out.

When I checked the breaker, I smelled smoke. The wires behind the wall were smoking. Thanks to my dad teaching me just enough about electrical work, I was able to change the breaker and restore power—but the pump itself was shot. We were without water for four days.

We were lucky. We have gym memberships, so we drove five miles an hour to take showers. We still went to work. We stayed productive. We kept going.

Today, my 70-year-old dad insisted on helping—even though his own pipes were frozen and he didn’t have water either. My mom and dad drove from Kerrville and spent five hours helping me and my son replace the pump.

And this is the moment that changed me.

I watched my dad struggling but here to save the day. He has heart damage from a heart attack a few years ago and this was the first time I’ve ever really seen him struggle. He’s always been the strong, capable, working man—the fixer.

Having him show up even through his conditioner so much to me.

After dinner, once the water was finally back on, I started washing dishes. Every dish we owned had been used. Things were stacked. Things smelled.

And something flipped in my brain.

I’ve always been fascinated by shows like Hoarders—how people end up living with mold, roaches, filth. But standing there washing dishes, I realized I’d never really thought about what it means to be without water… and not know if it’s ever coming back on.

I’ve been poor most of my life, but I’ve always had help. I’ve always had my dad to fix things or the ability to figure it out. I’ve always found a way to make up the money when something desperately needed fixing.

And I thought: how easy would it be for stacked-up dishes to turn into something unmanageable if I didn’t have help? If I didn’t have a dad who could fix almost anything? If I didn’t have the mental capacity to problem-solve my way out?

And here I am—angry because I didn’t make January rent. Frustrated about ice on the sidewalks. Upset that plans didn’t go the way I wanted.

All of these little things?

They’re going to pass.

I am so blessed—to have a family, a mind that still works through chaos, a son who has stepped up without being asked, friends who pray, customers who care, and a staff that truly loves this place.

So who am I to sit in negativity about my circumstances?

If you ask me how things are and I utter a negative word, you have full permission to call me out.

Today, I am reclaiming my mission.

My purpose.

My gratitude.

My heart for people.

Not because everything is easy—but because I can see clearly again.

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