The final day of being Unbound
Welp, the time has finally come. This is the big week.
I haven't done this in years, and there's no use in pretending otherwise: I know I won’t be as good as I once was.
Now that it's here, I wish I had done more to prepare.
I don't know if I will be able to keep up with my peers, or how my stamina will compare to that of my teammates.
But there's nothing left to do now except, well, lace up my cleats and hit the field.
That's right, this week is the first game of my Tuesday night women’s soccer league.
Wait, what did you think I was talking about?
Ok, yes, I do also, for lack of a better word, become Bound tomorrow. That is, today is the final day of being Unbound, this 8 month experiment I’ve been on of living small and slow, reading as many books as possible, going on long walks, being silly with friends, trying to make sense of how to be in the world in a way that aligns with my values and, of course, writing these words to you.
Tomorrow, for the first time in two and half years, I go back to the corporate world. And yes, I do think it’s an elegant and uncanny coincidence that Severance just returned for the first time in two and half years as well. The message is clear: my outie’s playtime is over.
But enough about that! Seriously, I am thrilled to start playing soccer again!
On identities, new and old
Soccer was a huge part of my life since I started playing at 6 years old. It was the source of my first female friendships, an avenue to fall in love with movement and discover what my body is capable of, an outlet for strategic thinking and competitive energy, and a ticket to travel all around Texas and occasionally outside of it for tournaments. In high school I played on both a competitive club team and my school team, resulting in up to 7 practices and 3 games per week when both teams were in season. It was easy to define myself and my place in the world: I was a soccer player.
But then I went to college. There were many other things I wanted to spend my time on, so I was happy to let soccer take a backseat. In those days, I played only a few weeks a year during spring and fall intramurals, and was glad to have more time to get involved with other things.
One night I was attending a fireside chat off campus where a mentor of mine was giving a talk. He was in the process of writing a memoir and was reflecting on the transitions in his life—how he shed the skin from one chapter and grew into the shape of another.
At one point he was talking about why he got involved with civic action; he had always thought of himself as a good citizen and wanted to leave a legacy as one, but desired more evidence to prove the claim. He started looking for ways to get more regularly involved, and soon found himself engaged in both short and long term projects around the city and university, including successfully advocating for pedestrian-friendly design and green spaces around Austin. After days, and soon weeks, then months, and now years of sustained involvement, civic engagement had simply became a habit.
Reflecting on this, he uttered a truism that would go on to both haunt and center me for years to come: “How you spend your days is, of course, how you spend your life.”1
I went home that night, stunned to my core by the profundity of it. Did everyone already know this? How simple the equation was? How, at the core of it, we are defined not by our dreams, or our facades, but by the consistency of our actions? It reminded me of Aristotle’s “We are what we repeatedly do,” which I had studied for a philosophy class, but which meant infinitely more to me now that I was thinking of how it applied to my own life.
It occurred to me for the first time that night, with bittersweet feelings, that if we are what we repeatedly do, “soccer player” was no longer a primary part of my identity. It also occurred to me that the great task in front of me as a college student was not as daunting as I had once thought—rather than plotting out a meaningful life and career, I merely had to get good at crafting my days.
Throughout the past 239 days of being Unbound, I have inhabited countless part-time identities. Dog-walker. Strength trainer. Homesteader. Dishwasher. Amateur chef. Amateur baker. Homemaker. Host. Volunteer. Park-goer. Guest lecturer. Reader. Painter. Hiker. And my favorite: Writer.
Starting this week I am returning to not just one, but two former identities: soccer player and management consultant. It will be interesting to see how they feel, how I fit and move within these old skins. Whether the shoes still fit, or whether I will find myself to have outgrown them entirely—cleats and loafers both.
But how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. And if there's one thing I've learned while being Unbound, it is that I want to spend my life writing.
So I will. Though it will now be a side dish as opposed to the entrée of my days, writing is an undeniable part of the path that lies ahead.
Here’s where you come in
Do you have any idea how big of a role you have played in helping me realize this? I can’t even begin to tell you—not without tears welling up in my eyes—how much it means to me that each of you have opened up your inboxes and hearts to receive my words. My cup, which has been full through the entirety of being Unbound, overflows every time I press “Publish” and watch the view count go up, the texts and comments come in with your thoughts about how the essay made you feel and the shape of the imprint it made.
Writing out loud like this has changed me. Ironically, it has bound me. Specifically, writing has bound me into a contract of being honest with myself. It has bound me to closer relationships with many of you. It has bound me to the world, to choosing to remain fully awake and alive in it. It has bound me to the belief that writing is not just a means of reflecting on the past or noticing the present, but also a tool you can use to create the future.
More than anything, it has bound me to a beautiful vision of the future I want to help create—one that is distributive and regenerative and equitable and free. One where being Unbound for a time is a choice that more people can afford to make and use to reshape their place in the world. I want to create a future with more alternative ownership structures, with more democracy in the workplace, with citizen’s assemblies, with play, with space for grief, with tools for mitigating and adapting to the climate crisis, with meaningful relationships, with time for honoring the astonishing beauty of life.
The book I am writing is about all of these things, but really it is about change: how it happens, and how much of it I think we are all capable of.
I need your help
Ok, this is actually where you come in. I made a pitch deck for myself to use in meetings with potential editors and agents with the goal of securing a book deal. As part of my pitch, I’d love to include a section of testimonials about the impact my writing has on readers.
So, please, if you have ever found yourself moved, changed, or impacted by my writing, would you consider sharing a testimonial or review about it in this Google Form? You can do it anonymously, if you prefer. I will take quotes from your reviews and add them to my pitch deck to convince publishers that I am someone they can believe in. I will also print them out and put them on my desk and weep big, soggy gratitude tears over them and take the mushy pile and steep it in my tea to fill me with energy and clarity on the inevitable days when I am uncertain on this path. But mostly they’ll go in the PowerPoint slide.
At last, I will leave you with this, a piece of writing that I consider to be the capstone project of being Unbound. It is a personal statement; a draft for how I have come to understand myself and my place and role in the world.
A personal statement
My name is Elizabeth Schasel. My goal in life is to use my three greatest talents–communicating, connecting, and creating–to accelerate the ongoing transition towards a more distributive and regenerative society which embraces the intrinsic value of all beings and the inherent life within.
I aim to do this by telling the truth about my lived experience in this moment, at these crossroads, learning and sharing as much as I can to illuminate promising possibilities and pathways. I will live and lead by example, inspiring others to courageously recognize and joyfully claim agency over their individual and collective futures.
I want to be known as someone fully bought-in to the experience of living, who embraces the good and the bad, the pain and the beauty.
I want to change and be changed by the world.
And now, an assignment
Beyond sharing a few words on this Google Form (if you feel so compelled), I invite you to write a personal statement of your own. You don’t need to share it with me (though I would be honored to read it). In fact, you don’t need to share it with anyone. You can rip it up as soon as you draft it. If you want, you can try again. You can try again as many times as you want.
But please, do start drafting. Even if all you have is one sleepy hour in the morning—it might help you figure out what to do with your one wild and precious day.
Although this is the last official post of Unbound, please feel free to visit prior entries, all of which have been linked below in order of publication. I have gone back and added photos to all posts that weren’t originally published with them. Thank you for being here and supporting me through the first—but not last—chapter of my writing career.
Day 11 of the Second Half of Being Unbound (October 24, 2024)
How to wake up in a nightmare and keep going (November 4, 2024)
Note: This piece was originally published on January 26, 2025. It was edited for clarity and context on March 27, 2025.
I found out only recently that this is actually a quote from author Annie Dillard from her book The Writing Life.
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Omg so sad this is coming to an end! I have the exact same soccer player identity journey (I still have a soccerchck96 email address somewhere). I’m way too scared that I’ll suck if I play in an adult league now so I’m jealous of your bravery and I hope you kick ass!