You know what nobody wants to talk about? How everything you think you own can disappear overnight. Your bank account, your credit cards, your digital wallet full of cryptocurrency that’s supposed to be the future—all of it exists in a system that can lock you out faster than you can say “identity verification.” I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially as I watch everyone around me become more and more dependent on systems they don’t control, don’t understand, and definitely don’t own. We’re living in an age where independence isn’t just discouraged—it’s being systematically dismantled, piece by piece, convenience by convenience.
I’m not talking about going full hermit here. I’m talking about the fundamental ability to take care of yourself and your family without needing permission from a corporation or a government agency. That used to be called “being an adult.” Now they call it “extremism” or “prepping” like it’s some kind of fringe activity. But here’s the thing—our grandparents would’ve called it “Tuesday.” They knew how to fix things, grow things, build things, and solve problems without immediately reaching for their phone to order a solution from Amazon or call a specialist who charges $200 just to show up.
Independence isn’t about rejecting society. It’s about not being so completely dependent on complex systems that you’re helpless the moment something goes wrong. And things go wrong all the time. The power grid fails. Supply chains break down. Banks have “technical difficulties.” Suddenly, people who’ve outsourced every aspect of their lives to various apps and services find themselves completely incapable of meeting their basic needs. That’s not freedom. That’s voluntary servitude with extra steps and a monthly subscription fee.
The Illusion of Ownership in the Digital Age
Let me tell you something that should terrify you but probably won’t because we’ve all been conditioned to accept it: you don’t own anything digital. Not really. You think you bought that movie on Amazon Prime? You licensed it. They can revoke that license anytime they want. Your ebooks? Same deal. That music in your cloud library? Gone the moment the company decides to change their terms of service or shut down the platform. I’ve watched people lose entire libraries of content they “purchased” because some corporation decided it wasn’t profitable to maintain the servers anymore.
But it goes deeper than entertainment. Your money in the bank? That’s just numbers in a database. If the system goes down, if there’s a cyber attack, if your account gets flagged by some algorithm for suspicious activity, you could be locked out of your own funds for days or weeks. I know a guy who had his bank account frozen because he deposited three checks in one day from different freelance clients. The automated fraud detection system flagged it as suspicious. It took him two weeks to get access to his own money, and during that time, he couldn’t pay his rent or buy groceries. He had money—he just couldn’t access it because the system decided he was a risk.
The Subscription Trap
And don’t even get me started on subscription services. Everyone’s moving to subscriptions because they figured out it’s more profitable to rent you things forever than to sell you something once. Your software, your music, your movies, your storage, your productivity tools—all of it on subscription. You stop paying, you lose access. You’re not building equity. You’re not accumulating assets. You’re just paying rent on everything in your life, forever, until you die or go broke.
This is independence? This is ownership? No. This is dependency with better marketing.
Skills Nobody Values Until They Need Them
I can fix almost anything in my house. Plumbing, electrical, carpentry, appliances—you name it. People used to think this was normal. Now when I tell someone I rewired an outlet or fixed my water heater, they look at me like I just performed surgery on myself. “Isn’t that dangerous?” they ask. “Shouldn’t you call a professional?”
What they’re really asking is: “Shouldn’t you pay someone else to do that for you?” And sure, sometimes you should. I’m not saying everyone needs to be an expert in everything. But the complete inability to fix basic things in your own home? That’s a problem. That’s dependency. That’s being at the mercy of someone else’s schedule and pricing every time something breaks.
I learned these skills because my dad taught me, and his dad taught him. But also because I realized early on that every skill you learn is a form of freedom. Every time you can solve a problem yourself, you’re not dependent on someone else. You’re not waiting for permission. You’re not hoping the repair guy can fit you in sometime next week. You just handle it.
The Lost Art of Fixing Things
We live in a throwaway culture now. Something breaks, you don’t fix it—you replace it. Except replacing things costs money, and it keeps you on the consumer treadmill forever. Meanwhile, the thing that broke probably just needs a $5 part and twenty minutes of work. But nobody knows how to diagnose the problem anymore. Nobody has the tools. Nobody has the confidence to even try.
I’ve got a neighbor who threw away a perfectly good lawnmower because it wouldn’t start. I asked if I could have it. He laughed and said, “Good luck.” Took me ten minutes to clean the carburetor and change the spark plug. That mower ran for another three years. He spent $400 on a new one. I spent $8 on parts for the old one. Who’s smarter in that scenario?
The corporations love this, by the way. They love that you don’t know how to fix things. They design products that are hard to repair, that require special tools, that void the warranty if you open them up. They want you dependent on their service centers, their authorized repair shops, their replacement cycles. It’s not a conspiracy—it’s just business. But the result is the same: you’re less independent, less capable, more dependent on systems you don’t control.
Food Security and the Fragile Supply Chain
Here’s something most people don’t think about: the average grocery store has about three days worth of food. That’s it. Three days. The entire system runs on just-in-time delivery, which is efficient right up until something disrupts it. Then shelves empty out fast, and suddenly everyone realizes how dependent they are on trucks showing up on schedule.
I grow a lot of my own food. Not all of it—I’m not completely off-grid—but enough that if the supply chain hiccupped for a week or two, I’d be fine. I’ve got a garden, some chickens, a pantry full of preserved goods. People think this is extreme. I think it’s common sense. Our grandparents called it “having a garden” and “canning season.” We call it “prepping” now like it’s some weird hobby instead of basic household management.
Why Growing Food Matters
There’s something deeply satisfying about eating food you grew yourself. But beyond that, there’s security. Every tomato plant in my garden is one less tomato I need to buy. Every jar of preserves in my basement is one less thing I’m dependent on the store for. It’s not about never going to the grocery store—it’s about not being completely helpless if the grocery store is empty or closed or charging $8 for a head of lettuce because there was a shortage.
Plus, and this is important, growing food teaches you patience and planning. You can’t just click a button and have tomatoes show up. You have to prepare soil, plant seeds, water, weed, wait. You learn about seasons and weather and how things actually work instead of just appearing. That knowledge makes you more resilient, more capable, more independent.
I’ve taught several people how to start gardens. Most of them thought it would be too hard or too time-consuming. Then they grew their first tomatoes and realized it’s actually pretty straightforward. Now they’re hooked. Not because they’re conspiracy theorists or preppers, but because they like knowing they can feed themselves if they need to. That’s not paranoia. That’s prudence.
The Skill Economy Nobody Talks About
Here’s what I’ve figured out: in a world where everyone is specialized and dependent on complex systems, generalists with practical skills have enormous value. When the power goes out, nobody cares about your MBA. They care if you know how to fix a generator. When the internet’s down, your social media marketing expertise is worthless. But knowing how to preserve food, purify water, or repair basic equipment? That’s valuable.
I do side work all the time—fixing things, building things, teaching people skills they should’ve learned but didn’t. I don’t advertise. I don’t have a website. People just know that if something breaks and they can’t figure it out, I probably can. And I’ll teach them how to do it themselves next time if they’re interested. Most aren’t, honestly. They just want it fixed. But some people get it. Some people realize that every skill they learn is insurance against uncertainty.
Building Your Independence Portfolio
I think of skills like a portfolio. You diversify investments, right? Same principle applies to capabilities. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Don’t be so specialized that you’re helpless outside your narrow area of expertise. Learn to fix things. Learn to grow things. Learn to build things. Learn to solve problems with your hands and basic tools instead of apps and service calls.
This doesn’t mean you have to be an expert in everything. It means being competent in enough things that you’re not completely dependent on complex systems working perfectly all the time. Because here’s a secret: complex systems never work perfectly all the time. They fail. They break down. They have glitches. The question is whether you’re capable of handling life when they do.
I’m not saying everyone needs to live like me. But I am saying that maybe, just maybe, we’ve swung too far in the direction of convenience and dependency. Maybe there’s value in knowing how to do things yourself. Maybe independence isn’t just about political freedom—it’s about practical capability.
The Real Security Isn’t in the Cloud
Everyone’s backing everything up to the cloud now. “It’s safe,” they say. “It’s secure,” they promise. Until it’s not. Until the company gets hacked, or goes bankrupt, or changes their terms of service, or gets served with a warrant, or decides your content violates their community standards. Then your data is gone, or locked, or handed over to someone else.
Real security is local. Physical. Under your control. I keep backups of important documents on hard drives I own, in locations I control. I keep cash on hand because digital payment systems go down. I keep tools and supplies because stores run out. This isn’t paranoia—it’s pattern recognition. Systems fail. They always have. They always will.
The people who think I’m crazy for maintaining this level of independence are the same people who panic when their phone dies, or the internet goes out, or their credit card gets declined for a fraudulent charge. They’re so dependent on everything working perfectly that they’re completely unprepared for the normal friction of life.
Independence Is a Practice, Not a Destination
Here’s the thing about independence: it’s not something you achieve once and then you’re done. It’s a daily practice. It’s choosing to learn instead of outsource. It’s choosing to fix instead of replace. It’s choosing to prepare instead of hoping everything works out. It’s choosing to be capable instead of dependent.
You don’t have to go off-grid or become a survivalist. You just have to ask yourself: “If this system stopped working, could I handle it?” If the answer is no, then you’re not independent—you’re just lucky that the system hasn’t failed yet. And luck runs out.
I’m not trying to scare anyone. I’m trying to wake people up to the fact that independence is possible, valuable, and increasingly rare. In a world that wants you dependent on systems you don’t control, being capable of taking care of yourself is an act of quiet rebellion. And maybe that’s exactly what they don’t want you to think.