Saturday, November 23, 2013

Letters From the Edge

I haven't been sleeping well. Last night I woke up around 1AM after a few hours of sleep and remained up until dawn, then got to the work of the farm and fire. It's anxiety, plain and simple. I'm not ready for winter and I'm scared about it. I don't know what it is about those early morning hours but the most manageable problem, the tiniest fear, seems HUGE and haunting at that time. I think of debts, projects, repairs, expenses, the tasks ahead just making it month to month and I am wide-eyed, heart racing, and wish I just had someone there to tell me I will be okay. This is the hardest year of my life, and I realize that now. I'm not giving up and the bank isn't foreclosing tomorrow, but soon as the sun sets I start to worry and do whatever I can to stop that worrying. It's not a good place to be.

I got an email from soemeone who just started reading the blog and was confused at my recent posts, the self doubt in them at least. He went back and read through from 2007-2010 and said it was another person. He as right. I think about that girl and the world apart I was then. So much has changed, turned harsher and harder. I'm the same person, but I'm also entirely different. There's no turning back now, but sometimes I miss the ease, the comforts, even the bad parts.

I guess I'm scared because I don't know how this story will end. Will the farm collaspe on itself? Will I get some Hail Mary break? Right now I'm in this survival mode and it's exhuasting and terrifying, but at least every morning I wake up with a mission. I may be scared but every day I feel so alive, driven, hopeful and aware. All I want to know is that I make it through to the other side of this fear and confusion and things are okay. That I can make the mortgage. That I won't be alone in this indefinitely. That I can fix mistakes, forgive, forget, and move on. But tonight I'm just scared to fall asleep, and praying for daylight.

This blog isn't about showing you how to decorate your chicken coop or thrify ways to sew your kids lunchboxes. This isn't a lifestyle blog, a mommy blog, or a content provider for random ads. This is my life. If you want rainbows and puppies, go elsewhere. If you want the raw, terrifying, amazing, and life changing story of a girl turning into a woman in the dirt, horse sweat, and harsh reality of living in the north country alone, welcome. You'll get it here. You get to hear about a person growing up, growing middle aged, and every triumph and fear along the way. Some nights my wallet is thick, the wolf is far from the door, and doubt is a weak little ghost in the corner. Some nights are like this, and I pour my heart out to strangers hoping some can find empathy and understanding, email a kind word, or do something else to help me feel like what I'm doing here is worth the nights I'm scared to go to bed. Tonight I am scared to fall asleep, and it's only because soon as I do I will wake up sweating and shaking, hugging Gibson like a life raft and counting breathes to calm down.

So tonight I have a request for you. I am asking for your help. I want anyone else out there in these same shoes — or people who have felt like this before — to send me an email telling me their story. If you are a farmer running your farm alone, tell me about it and how you deal with the stress? What helped you get through it? Are you also a woman trying to find her place in the world, tell me about it. Are you a guy who used to work really hard as a single man until you found a partner that made things easier? Tell me about that. I want to hear that things get easier, that life can change for the better in an instant. I want some proof that things are okay. It matters so much to me, having slept 4 hours in the last 48. I think knowing that other people are treading water too, or have found their safety, would be a huge help.

Letters from the edge, that's what I need. Send them to: