A Time to Move on.

The time has come. I must understand my limits.

If I were to start over, knowing what I now know, I think I could have done it, but I need to recognize that I haven’t, and it’s time to move on to something else. My journey for reform isn’t ending; it’s just taking a different path. I will focus less on Politics and Parenting and building community support, and instead, I will focus on getting a job inside the Sphere of Power, otherwise known as Washington, D.C.

After much thought, prayer, and discussions with my supportive wife and some close friends, I have reached this conclusion. While part of me is frustrated by my past mistakes and sad to be moving on, another part is excited about the new challenges and appreciative of the lessons learned.

I've been wrestling with writing this for weeks, but it's time to share the next step in my journey and my new path. The past few years have been full of ups and downs—while I never had a clear plan, I kept moving forward, learning from my mistakes.

As most of you know, I want to uncap the House; to do that, I need to be an elected member of Congress. I wanted to create something at a community level that would eventually be the foundation for a congressional run. What that is, I have never really been clear on. It’s taken different forms, from the Madisonian Republicans to Politics and Parenting.

At first, I wanted to meet someone who would understand the value of the republican principle and champion the matter so I could go back home and play fantasy football and drink whiskey. Once I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I decided to go to Washington. But if I were to go to Washington, I only wanted to represent my district. I wanted to enter Washington free of special interest, and what I mean by that is I wanted to make my future negotiations with the people easier. I wanted to avoid having to explain why I worked for a particular group or person. I never really wanted to be a politician; I just wanted representation.

“You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well, you might find, You get what you need” — The Rolling Stones

In this moment of reflection, I think of my dad. We are similar but different.

He isn’t much of a talker. When I was a kid, he would take me with him everywhere. I would go with him to Tractor Supply and Home Depot on the weekends. Sometimes, he would take me to odd jobs that helped the family, like delivering wood, and sometimes, I would sit in the garage and watch him paint a car. During the week, he would take me to work; he was a heavy equipment road mechanic, and I would watch him work at airports and construction sites. There would be a broken machine, and he was sent to fix it.

I would sit and watch. If one thing didn’t work, he would try the next. He didn’t get discouraged easily; he just moved on. Sometimes, he would try many things in a row, and nothing seemed to be working; I would hear him say something like, “Come on, Michael.” A long pause and some quiet reflection followed.

I didn’t really understand what was happening then, but I now understand that he was changing paths. He had tried everything he could from path one but had determined it wouldn’t work and needed a different approach. After some time, he would be back at it. Sometimes, he would call and ask for advice; sometimes, he would go back to the machine manual; sometimes, he would need a different tool or part, but he kept at it until the problem was solved and the machine was running again.

Recognizing that I had fallen into depression was a turning point. It made me realize I needed a different path, much like my father would when fixing a stubborn machine. While part of me feels shame for my depression, I know I am not alone. In the founding era, Washington, Adams, Madison, and John Quincy Adams called it melancholy. In modern leaders like Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Jimmy Carter, it’s recognized as depression.

Even when I seemed fine on the outside, I was at war with myself on the inside, trying to filter the negative thoughts. I felt alone, which isn’t a good place to be. Once I realized this, I said to myself, “Come on, Jeff,” and then reflected.

We all have positive and negative thoughts. We filter out negative thoughts to do good and make the right choices. When depression sets in, negative thoughts start to outweigh positive thoughts. We stop moving forward, start dwelling on the past, and get stuck in a cycle of insecurities. We begin to question ourselves, our purpose, and our worthiness. Before we realize it, we are not the person we want to be—we are someone else. At this point, we are no longer working with a purpose and trying to do right. We are stuck in a moment, complaining about what could be.

The Republican machine is broken, and I don’t plan to stop until it’s running again. I just need a different approach. To solve problems in a combustible environment, one must be secure in one's abilities. The needed confidence is built with practice, patience, and perseverance.

After reflecting, it’s easy to see how I fell into this depression. I wanted to form a group of support, but I ended up isolating myself from the people I loved. I was so focused on preparing myself and my family for future challenges that I overloaded my plate and failed to follow through on day-to-day tasks. Hindsight is 20/20, and I must forgive myself for these mistakes. While disappointed in myself, I know it’s not over, and there are other paths. I still have the support of great family and friends.

Through my trials and errors, I have learned much about myself, my country, and my faith in God and people. While changing paths can be uncomfortable for a creature of habit like me, I am more than capable of doing it. While I didn’t want to work for anyone but the people of my district, that was a fear grounded in the unknown about Washington and myself. Since building a closer relationship with God, I can prioritize my faith over my fear.

For all the talk about positive and negative thoughts, I would be remiss if I didn’t reflect on my last year. 2024 was a positive year. I was on a The Culture War with Tim Pool, published seventeen times in two national publications, and interviewed Yuval Levin, someone I immensely respect. In the fall, I challenged myself to write more op-eds and was successful publishing five articles in six weeks, from October to December.

These accomplishments are not mine alone. If it wasn’t for the help of my friends and family, who have supported Politics and Parenting, sent books for me to read, connected me with others, and sent encouraging text messages, personal letters, and emails, I wouldn’t have made it this far. I don’t think I could ever put into words how much each one meant. The support always seemed to come at just the right moment, reminding me how blessed I am.

In addition to my growth as a writer, 2024 was also a year of success for Hardhits, the custom print shop that started when I was 19. After a few years of turbulence, my wife took the helm this year. She steadied the ship with the support of the excellent staff and wonderful communities in Manassas, Gainesville, Haymarket, and Nokesville.

I have lived here my whole life, and I just love this place (even now, with the data centers obscuring the beauty of the Blue Ridge) and the people. Thank you all so much.

So, while I am not formally ending Politics and Parenting, it will not be a focus until I have secured a job in the sphere of power. (Paid Membership perks will continue. Keep an eye out for Book Club and Spring Field Trip emails.) Instead of writing posts and networking in the local community, I will write personal cover letters and network in Washington, DC.

I plan to join an organization where I can work on reforms that strengthen representation, enhance civic engagement, or improve governance. If you know of advocacy, policy, or education opportunities, I'd love to hear from you.

I will continue to pitch articles to the Hill, the Blaze, and anyone else who will publish me. You can still contact me if you want me to write about something specific. When I have published articles, I will still share them on Politics and Parenting.

“There's no success like failure. And that failure's no success at all.” - Bob Dylan

Peace and Love,

Jeff Mayhugh