Isn't That Enough?
Sometimes in order to build something new, you have to tear down the old. Right now, my farm is a place that robs my joy. I wrote about this in my last blog, and honestly, it makes me angry. I am tired of having so many other lives depend on me, and I think I have earned the right not to be the primary caretaker to so many things.
To alleviate this burden, I’ve made a big change with my herd of Mangalitsa pigs. I have found a wonderful partnership with a group of lovely women who run a farm just down the road. They share my belief in the importance of raising up a capable younger generation. Together, we are going to collaborate, and I am excited to see what we create. Some people in my life might look at this and think I am giving up on a herd I invested a ton of time and money into. But by letting go of this obligation, I am alleviating a mountain of stress, unhappiness, and resentment. There is no monetary value you can put on peace of mind.
What we stand to gain in the future is worth every single penny I have already spent. By eliminating the daily grind that forces me out to the pens, I am hoping I can eventually rediscover my genuine desire to be out there.
Through all of this, I've realized something critical about my long-term goals. While I still desire to have great youth programs running on this land, I have zero desire to be the one actually managing the classes or handling the children. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I fit best, and it always comes back to one thing: human connection. I am a cheerleader at heart. When I love what I do, it’s written all over my face, and that energy ends up lifting everyone else in the room. That’s exactly what I want my role at my nonprofit to be. Not just doing the work, but sharing the spark, getting people excited, and gathering a crew of passionate people to build this dream alongside me.
Even in my current headspace, I still believe I want a successful non-profit to blossom on our farm. Once I completely shed what is dragging me down, I hope that comes to fruition. Maybe it will, or maybe it won't—and either way, I don't really care. If the pursuit adds to my joy, I’ll keep chasing it. If it doesn't, I will let it go. I know that when a person is truly happy and loves waking up every day, incredible things naturally begin to develop.
But stepping back from the farm is only half of the equation; the real shift is where I am choosing to direct that energy. I have spent nearly the last twenty years of my life in full-time caregiver mode. For the majority of that time, I was a happy and willing participant. But pushing aside your own needs and wants for the better part of a decade and a half simply isn’t a sustainable way to exist. If I am being perfectly truthful, I don’t fully know what I do want for the outside world yet. But I know with absolute certainty what I don't want. This next chapter of my life is about shedding the things that drain me, so I can focus on the one thing I am a million percent certain I want: spending the precious few years I have left focusing on my son's youth, showing him this amazing world, helping to mold him into a valuable member of society, and chasing experiences and having fun with him.
I figure I have about five good years left with my son before he turns into a young man and launches down the path of his own dreams. Having already lost one child, I live with a heavy sense of regret. I know that my son, Alrik, was robbed of a piece of me during August’s life. I refuse to steal any more time away from the youth he has left. That is the one thing I know for certain I want to do. It is non-negotiable. I am not going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of it happening.
While our household has endured unfathomable hardships and pain, we are deeply blessed. We managed to arrange our finances so that I do not have to work a traditional job. I receive immense, constant pressure to always be working, constructing, and building something tangible. Society tells us we must always be producing, but I firmly reject the idea that my worth is tied to that kind of hustle.
Instead, I choose to be home, hands-on, educating and raising my son. Even if I decide to table every other project in my life, being a present mother, a homemaker, and a homeschooling educator is not a fallback plan—it is the single best, most valuable, and most important role of my entire life. I am fully pouring myself into the human being I brought into this world.
Tell me, isn't that enough?!
Comments