2020: 20/20 Vision

In tabulating and drafting the “Peteys” last week, I thoroughly overlooked one of the most meaningful bass media events of the past year: Shaye Baker’s magnum opus on his history of mental health issues. A few years back, Baker was everywhere – a solid collegiate angler, employee of BASS, and a more-than-competent Opens-level competitor – and then he suddenly dropped off the map. Now we know why.

I haven’t suffered through precisely the same issues as Shaye, but there have definitely been times when I was distinctly and severely unhappy. Throughout my twenties I was unable to maintain a meaningful relationship because of that angst, and I was generally pretty angry at the world. I don’t know that many people were aware of that, because outwardly things seemed to be going pretty well. I graduated from a top-ten law school debt-free, started what then seemed like a high-paying job, and within a year I’d used cash to purchase my first (new to me) bass boat.

But I was miserable. I hated the work. I hated the hours. I really hated the people I worked for, and in hindsight I’m convinced my distaste for them was fully justified, but they were not the reason for my unhappiness. I didn’t have a driving purpose to get up for in the morning. There was fishing, of course, but in many ways that was a source of stress, too. My employers thought it was a waste of time and looked down on it, so I’d leave work late Friday, hitch up the boat, and head out to the next tournament site under a cloud of duress and tiredness.

My life changed for the better in 2001, when I moved to another job that better fit my values and need for some amount of leisure time. It still didn’t satisfy a deeper need (and it required a pay cut), but shortly after the switch it was as if my whole being exhaled in relief.

The bigger catalyst came in 2004, when I sold my first article to a national fishing magazine. I’d been writing for free for a while for a Federation site and decided to seek a media pass to that year’s Bassmaster Classic on Lake Wylie, where I rode with Aaron Martens. He finished 2nd, but in many respects his oddball lure choices made him as big a story as Takahiro, and I had firsthand knowledge of what he was doing. When I sold that article, it wasn’t the $400 check that made me happy as much as the fact that it opened a door – I could use the same skills I’d used in law school (analysis, writing) to chase something that interested me much more.

It’s not coincidental that I got married in 2005. That door of perception enabled me to open myself up to someone else a little more.

Every year since then, my writing portfolio – and the perks that come with it – has grown. I’ve had so many great opportunities and experiences as a result of that work that I can’t imagine life without it. I’m not going to go so far as to say that it saved my life, but it clearly made it much more worthy of living.

From a fishing and writing perspective, the past 12 months have been pretty amazing. I’ve gone to Brazil, Alaska, Mexico (three times), St. Clair, Grosse Savanne, Table Rock and Lake Martin. I’ve written tens of thousands of words. I’ve gotten paid or comped for much of it. And I’ve fished more at home than during any year in recent memory, out of a boat that law school Pete could never have dreamed of.

I can’t say that every year since 2004 has gotten incrementally better in a predictable way, but overall the upward trajectory is indisputable, and that’s because I found something that I really love and found a way to make it work. There were plenty of late nights on the computer or on the phone when I would’ve rather been doing something else, but the juice is almost always worth the squeeze.

That has birthed an attitude that tells me that 2020 should be better than 2019. I already have some new opportunities brewing, and I remain at least as excited about the most mundane article and the average local fishing trip as ever before. Even if the coming year turns out to be not quite as good as 2019 – for whatever reason – I’m confident that over time things will continue to move up along both the X and Y axes. That is the gift that writing has given me.

I’m not a fan of saying you should “reinvent” yourself, because that suggests throwing out the good with the bad, but I do think that it’s never too late to grab a handle on happiness.

Happy New Year.