This conversation is almost a year old, but I want to add a few words... It meant so much to me to hear from others facing challenges like mine. Finding this was perfect timing for me as I struggle with letting go of my land and my dreams.
I moved to a lovely rural area of Acadian forest in Eastern Canada two years ago, planning to build a little self-sufficient homestead / farm. I had studied for years to be ready! I have sarcoidosis including neurosarcoidosis, thyroid disease, pernicious anemia, PTSD and Complex PTSD, and not much physical power due to a very bad accident which required reconstructive surgery on my whole abdomen, which didn't heal all that well. Some pretty deep emotional problems. I have "sun allergy" so in warm weather I can only go outdoors for about 15 minutes. I'm also a single mother of teenagers. I thought: I'll get a big dog, some chickens and ducks, grow food... and I have done a great deal, considering. I also have worked with the idea that I can't progress if I compare myself to others (can't compare myself to me before being sick, because there's no such thing). And doing a little bit at a time. And not self-punishing. I was raised to think pain or disability of any kind = self-pity.
And a lot of little things didn't go in my favor here, and I had a very major personal loss this year and the shock and grief knocked me down. In a sense there are no deadlines, as one of you said, but the firewood has to be done before the winter comes, and the animals need care no matter how I'm feeling... and it doesn't feel good to put so much work into growing food and then leave it spoiling out there because I don't have the energy to drag myself out there and harvest. My house is a sweet old thing but needs some work which I can no longer do and can't pay anyone else to do... I moved here not knowing anyone in this province, and my emotional state (plus Covid-19!) has made to hard to get to know anyone, though there is a growing organic / permaculture presence on the Island. I feel too emotionally fragile to seek people out. I have no family anywhere, so there's no one to call on for moral support. When I came here I was on decent terms with my ex-husband and he promised to help with the physical stuff, so things would run smoothly enough that I could manage alone later, but in the end he never shows up. Which I REALLY should have foreseen.
I planted fruit & nut trees, berries & grapes, built 6 long hugelkultur beds, converted a shed into a poultry house, learned an incredible amount! All in small bites. It would have been nice to have someone around to say: Look how much you've accomplished! In so many ways this property is what I always dreamed of. But the fact is, I do not have what it takes physically (or financially) to build and maintain this. It will be constant struggle, not safe, and growing old in isolation. I hoped at least one of my kids would want to stay here and work with me, but they have other plans. So now I'm facing having to sell my lovely place and move on. The challenge now is, not to punish myself for "giving up" or grieve myself into an early grave. Was I crazy to try this, at almost 50 years old, by myself? It's really hard not to punish myself now for not "making it work," as though anyone was ever in complete control! Trying not to feel like a failure. I admire you all so much for the work you do, on your homesteads and in your hearts, working with chronic illness.
In spring 2021 I have to put the property on the market. If anyone is interested in 2 acres with a little river and a 3-bedroom house in south-eastern Prince Edward Island, let me know!
I guess I wrote this partly to say, recognizing our limitations (and everyone has limitations!) might mean our dreams have to evolve. There is some beauty in knowing how much I did, knowing that someone will go out there with their children and pick my apples and elderberries. I am so familiar with the feeling of having forcing myself to continue with something that is ultimately hurting me, because I'm stubborn and in a way still trying to prove that I have value even though I was taught otherwise. Our true value is inside us, though, "shining out of our eyes," not just in what we build and prove on the outside.
My very best hopes for all of you!
