The Bright Side of Black Friday
A Thanksgiving Message
Thanksgiving week always brings the same pattern: gratitude on Thursday, chaos on Friday.
Most years, I watch that whiplash happen and wonder what it says about us. One day we’re thankful for what we have. The next, we’re fighting strangers in parking lots for things we don’t need.
This year, I wanted to write about the version of Black Friday we’ve built in our house. Not as a judgment on anyone else’s choices, but as a reflection on what I’m still learning about enough.
Black Friday
The morning after Thanksgiving, most of America wakes up early to chase things.
My family and I?
We wake up slow.
No alarms. No lines. No sales tabs open on my phone.
Just the smell of turkey still hanging in the kitchen, the familiar comfort of leftovers waiting in the fridge, and the quiet knowledge that today isn’t about getting more. It’s about noticing what’s already here.
That might sound simple. But for someone wired to chase the next thing, it’s one of the hardest disciplines I’ve had to learn.
The Rhythm We’ve Built
Thanksgiving night is our unofficial kickoff to Advent.
We watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (still quoting every line, every year) and by morning, the boxes come out. My wife and kids take over the tree. Candy canes start lining the walkway (we call it Candy Cane Lane, naturally). The permanent lights we installed a few years back flip on with a single switch.
I used to hang the lights myself, full Clark Griswold energy, convinced this would be the year I nailed it.
It never was.
Every year they’d somehow fall short of the grand vision in my head. Who knows, maybe my own sloppy, impatient approach had something to do with it. The permanent lights were one of the best upgrades we’ve made. If ROI were measured in ER trips avoided, they’re a blue-chip investment.
Black Friday morning, I build the same sandwich I always do: turkey, stuffing, cranberry, mashed potatoes, and a swipe of mayo. I eat it while the Iowa–Nebraska game pulls me in. This year, the Bears follow (I’m a Bears fan, sadly) and then the Hawks. Then more coffee.
It’s a rhythm now. Coffee, football, family, and quiet.
I’ve never been much for the Black Friday chaos. I think I went once, by accident, in my twenties. I get why people do it. Stretching a dollar matters, and there’s something exciting about the hunt.
But my version of the hunt just looks different.
The Chase I Can’t Turn Off
I share the same instinct as everyone lining up at 4 a.m. for a deal. The same itch to chase something.
Mine just shows up in work. In ambition. In the constant urge to optimize, improve, push forward.
I know how that sounds. Like a brag wrapped in false humility. But I promise it isn’t.
It’s a gift in some ways. It’s driven my career. It’s built the life I have. It’s pushed me to grow in areas I never thought I could.
But it’s also an incredible burden.
Because the problem with always chasing the next thing is that “enough” never quite arrives.
By most measures, I have more than enough. An outstanding family. A career I’m proud of. A home that feels like us. Stability I once could only imagine.
Yet I still catch myself scanning for the next milestone.
The next project. The next proof that I’ve earned where I am. The next fleeting bump of dopamine from external validation.
It’s not greed. It’s not dissatisfaction, exactly. It’s more like background static, a low hum of restlessness that whispers what’s next? even when everything in front of me is good.
Black Friday just happens to make that tension visible.
It’s a mirror for how easily “enough” slips through our fingers, even when it’s sitting right in front of us.
The Question I Keep Coming Back To
A mentor once asked me, “Why wait until retirement to enjoy it?”
He was right.
But knowing that and living it are two different things.
I’ve spent most of my life operating like retirement is the finish line. Like the goal is to accumulate enough wealth, achievement, and validation so that one day I can finally relax and enjoy it.
But that logic is backwards.
If I can’t be present now, when I have everything I once dreamed of, what makes me think I’ll be present then?
The life I once chased is already here. And it’s good.
Really good.
But I have to choose to notice it. To let it be enough. To stop treating today like a stepping stone to some better version of tomorrow.
That’s harder than it sounds for someone wired like me.
What Enough Actually Looks Like
Enough isn’t something you conquer. It’s something you notice.
It’s the quiet after the kitchen is clean.
The nice glass of red with your wife as Michael Bublé serenades in the background (thanks, Mike).
The laughter from the other room as the tree goes up.
The satisfaction of a well-made turkey sandwich eaten in front of a mediocre college football game.
It’s realizing that the moments you’re waiting for aren’t ahead of you, they’re happening right now, and they’re slipping by while you scan the horizon for what’s next.
I’m not saying ambition is bad. I’m not saying growth doesn’t matter. I’m not even saying Black Friday is wrong.
I’m saying there’s a version of life where you can chase things and notice what you already have. Where you can be ambitious and present. Where you can want more and recognize that what you have is already extraordinary.
That balance is what I’m working on.
And days like this, slow mornings with nowhere to be, no sales to chase, no proof to earn, are the practice ground.
The Bright Side
The world calls it Black Friday.
A day defined by scarcity, urgency, and the fear that if you don’t act now, you’ll miss out.
But here’s what I’ve learned: the real scarcity isn’t in the deals you miss.
It’s in the mornings you rush through. The moments you don’t notice because you’re already thinking three steps ahead. The life that’s unfolding right now while you’re busy chasing the next thing.
So this year, we’re calling it something different.
The first bright morning of the season.
A day to notice what’s already here. To be grateful without needing to earn it. To let this, exactly this, be enough.
At least for today.
A Few Questions I’m Sitting With
Where does your version of the chase show up? Is it deals and discounts? Career milestones? The next project, the next house, the next thing that will finally make you feel settled?
What would it look like to let today be enough? Not forever. Not as a permanent mindset. Just for today, what would change if you stopped scanning for what’s next?
When was the last time you felt present? Not productive. Not accomplished. Just... here. What were you doing? Who were you with?
Hit reply if this resonates. I’d love to hear how you think about enough, and whether you’ve found a way to balance ambition with presence.
Grateful you’re here.
— Stephen