A bit of a break..

14 months. I stopped writing when I got stuck. Maybe I got stuck when I stopped writing.. it was only ever meant for me. Putting the words into the universe was my biggest form of therapy, and I stopped doing it. So here's my attempt. A look back at how the past year has affected me.

...

Nothing went according to plan. I think I knew it wasn't going to. I never made it back out west to deal with my belongings- after the fires, and amidst the ongoing pandemic came the floods and landslides. Chaos had yet to subside before winter rolled in. Some time in between, travel restrictions were tightened down again. There was no good time to go before it ran out. I lost track of what I had left. But it's just stuff, right?

I didn't know when I came here what my situation would be. I didn't think I would be able to stomach living in the city, and I honestly didn't think I would stay. But I got lucky. With a place to be, and a somewhat 'light duty' and familiar job that would take me. I had just returned to work from medical leave a few months before I decided to come home, and I wasn't ready.

I convinced myself that I was okay. That I didn't hate the fact of leaving the 'dream' life behind. With not being able to go back for my belongings like I had planned to. With walking away from a career that was ultimately suffering due to the suddenly turbulent economy. With breaking off a long term relationship that I had built my life around- but was toxic and unhealthy. With missing out on the medical care I had waited so long for. With the fact that my mental health had diminished dramatically and I needed this change to begin to recover. But maybe I wasn't okay with it all. I didn't give myself a chance to be- to process everything.

My first few months in the province were softened by a series of distractions and adventures. I filled the void by attempting to reconnect with as many people as I could, and fill every conscious moment of every day with some sort of interaction. So I didn't have to be alone with my thoughts. So I didn't feel useless suddenly not having all of these living things to care for. The idea of attempting to work through my feelings was unbearable- so I did my best not to.

That burned me out too. I cut everyone off but a select few. I had to.

...

A few weeks ago it hit me. A quiet Sunday with nothing to do but sip coffee, watch a show and enjoy a peaceful moment with a friend. They couldn't help but notice the obvious anxiety that was creeping over me. I couldn't just sit in the moment. I explained the nagging feeling like I was missing something, or there was a deadline that needed to be met, a task that needed to be done, an obligation that required my attention. But I couldn't place it..

"So then relax and maybe allow yourself to enjoy the fact that there's literally nothing else you need to be doing right now"

That brief but critical conversation stuck with me. That's what I've been missing. The space to just allow myself to be. To relax on my days off. To simply enjoy the presence of my company. To spend some time not worrying about what I think I should be doing.

...

My natural state of being is so engrained with 'survival mode' anxiety that I lost track of the off switch. The majority of my adult life has required me to rise before the sun and get moving. Whether it was due to sleeping outside in a place I shouldn't be, or a mountain of morning farm chores that was waiting for me. I haven't allowed myself to relax and enjoy my current state of comfort or safety.


This is the first time in a decade that I have nothing else to worry about but me. I have a chance right now to figure out my next move. To take the small but necessary steps towards building myself up again. I have a place to sleep. There's always food to eat. And though it's not the best paying job, I know my hours are guaranteed. This might look like complacency, but I need this right now more than anything. I need to allow myself to take a little comfort in what I have. I know as well as anyone that discomfort is a motivator, and believe me I'll get back to that in a minute..


To be continued.

Eastward bound

 I started to write this blog post a couple months ago. I haven't written since May. I knew big things were happening. I could feel the impending change.

Last time I wrote, my world was shaky. My job no longer secure- both for lack of materials, and the physical strength to install them. Realizing that I'm no longer physically capable of many job things I could do before was a blow to the psyche. I knew I'd have to figure something out. I didn't know that once I had decided I was done, the universe would align almost immediately.

It never looks good in the moment. It's always an intense, sudden uncomfortable event that kicks me into motion. Discomfort makes us move. It's necessary, the biggest motivator. I found myself at my breaking point. I had to make the hard decision to walk away from the life I'd built up but could no longer handle.

There were other factors at play in my decision. After years of struggling to convince my partner to take a little bit of the responsibility weight off my shoulders, it finally did me in. The constant stressors that came with our lifestyle falling mostly on me shortened my burnout time. I reached it rather quickly- and then decided to try and drag myself along anyways. Until that moment on that one fateful day.

Thanks to covid delays, like thousands of others, not all of our permits were up to date. We were stopped on a routine check and told we could no longer drive the van until it was dealt with. We still had a 4 month wait. There's no way.. it's not impossible but it's certainly not easy living in a semi remote community without driving. That was the last straw. That bit of weight shifted enough to tip the scale. Instead of feeling angry and upset, I felt relieved that the choice had been made easy. I got my sign.


A few days later I'd set the date. Seven years was a long time to be anywhere for me. I never realized how deeply I wanted this change. It seems like going backwards. But after this long, and maybe just in general.. sometimes you have to take a big step back to continue to move forward. And I don't feel the least bit upset about it.

Don't get me wrong, it was a wonderful thing to experience being out there. I made great friends, had a million beautiful experiences, I learned a lot of stuff about things, and of myself. But it was long past due for my departure. I had to balance getting rides to the city for work and shipping my life to the east coast for the remainder of my time out there. It's a blur. Most of it was left there with my intent to return. But that didn't exactly go the way we thought it would either.

Shortly after my departure, the impending disaster that was the farm quickly unfurled. As the heat continued to be outrageous and the fires socking the valley in with smoke, the well system on the farm finally failed. A month has passed, and with several failed attempts to make the repair, we were left with no choice but to disband the farm. All of the animals are in the process of being rehomed, and our materials moving to neighbouring homesteads.

My belongings are still in the farmhouse. The moment I left I had to mentally write it all off as though it burned up in the fires. In order to get my head around leaving everything out there, I made a plan for my return to deal with it. I might not get the chance before the premises are vacated. But that was the point of letting it go. Just in case. I'm hoping it will be safely stored up the road until the world settles down a minute about this covid shit. It would be an easy flight out and back to ship it homeward if it wasn't for that. Hindsight and whatnot. At least I thought to put it all together before I left..

So I'm here. There's still a pandemic happening through which my timing to switch provinces was pretty on point. It was about as 'open' as the country had been this whole time, and shit shut down again pretty quickly not long after. I'm trying to enjoy the blessings in the moment without being overtaken by worry and guilt about leaving the farm in the middle of everything.

I had help writing a resume for the first time in years and I'm starting over to find a job. Pretty well back to where I started. In a room in a basement in my hometown on foot. It's kind of crazy to think about after everything.. that said, it's somehow been the best summer. I really missed my people. My place.. the comfort of knowing no matter what, I'm safe. I just need a minute to rest here a little.

Change

 I'm not working today because there isn't any. This week more than half of our crew was let go. I was thrilled to survive the cut (and not at all surprised, I'm good at what I do). But when our foreman came to us at the end of the day yesterday and said there's no work for any of us, I became nervous for the first time in my construction work history. 

I always thought this would be secure. There's always new houses. More people. People need places to live. I would retire from this company many many years from now making fat money. I finally work for a company that truly cares for its people. I can take leave as long as I want, and come back like nothing happened. I finally have security. Or not..

Materials are becoming scarce. What usually takes a day or 2 to order is now on a several month back order, and 5x the original cost. Companies on our same site are going bankrupt. Work is grinding to a halt. I never thought this would happen, especially considering there wasn't a single day of shutdown in our field during the pandemic. I thanked my stars for being 'essential'.

This kind of makes planning ahead a little difficult. I'd just finished revamping my whole ass budget so I could afford a vehicle upgrade and a cross country road trip in the hopefully not too distant future. But now that future is looking more blurry than ever. Not gonna lie, I'm a little concerned. I take my time deciding these days, and it seems when I finally do, things change. The only constant in life, indeed. 

3-11

 March 11th 2020 was the day it hit me- this whole pandemic thing is really happening, we're gonna do this. It seems like yesterday, but at the same time, forever ago. I remember chill of hearing about schools and theaters and businesses closing their doors. I'm typically a very adaptable person and can go with the flow, and even I felt mildly threatened by this sudden upheaval. 

This was the day I'd finally gotten my energy back after being sick for over a month. I decided to attempt to restock our now decimated pantry which had been depleted by weeks of staying home sick, and weeks before of winter weather keeping us grounded. Walking the aisles I quickly became numb and anxious- even our hidden little grocer had been gutted for every bag of rice and pasta. Panic had stricken the population into buying up all the dry food, canned goods and paper products they could- for fear of being locked down or quarantined. Luckily for me, no one had touched the produce.

Speaking of produce- I guess I spoke too soon. I was also late making my seed order, and was shocked to find that many of my regular items were long out of stock (and many still are). It's equally as encouraging as it was frustrating. At least people are taking interest in growing food. I hope that's a trend that continues, and the supply catches up with demand for seeds.

It's not just the food gardens people are after.. land is another thing that's becoming even harder to find, and selling at a premium. People want more space for those gardens- and a greater distance from others. Green space, room to breathe. Maybe they always wanted it as much as I ever did. But it took this global event to present a moment of "awakening". For lots of folks. An exodus from the city is in full swing. Land is changing hands quickly.

...

I knew looking back over my media posts this past year would feel.. strange. 311 has been showing up. I've been showing up.. it feels so much like I told you so...

...


It's been a whole year. It's been the longest year ever, yet it's gone by so quickly. It's hard to believe that in this amount of time, everything happened that did. February 3rd 2020 I went to the BC Women's Hospital for an appointment at the endometriosis Clinic that I have been waiting for for so long, and I got sick. The sickest I've ever been. Which eventually landed me in the hospital by the end of March, and my life hasn't been the same since.

I have now been back to work for over a month, and I'm not sure how much longer I can handle the job that I'm doing. Despite having almost a year off to find medical help and healing, I wasn't quite able to find the help I needed. And I'm not quite done healing yet.


2021 has only just begun, and already I'm feeling the weight of the season. Our crops must be carefully planned. Our time must be carefully utilized. And it is absolutely critical to stay positive.

The end- and the beginning...

 After a few hours up the hill chopping wood, my partner came back to the farmhouse looking a bit perplexed. He asks if I want the good news or bad news first- I always opt for the bad news to get it out of the way. "Farm sold" he says. The sale closes at the end of the month. The good news is they're giving us an extra couple months to figure out what we'll do about that. 

It was the last thing we'd expected at this point in time. The shock of our home-base changing hands suddenly in November hadn't worn off yet.

Though it wasn't expected, the news didn't come as a surprise. Back in summer 2019 when we moved the farm base up there, we knew the owner was thinking of selling. In fact, the property was currently on the market but no one was biting. His wife had passed a few years back, and he felt the acreage was a lot to manage without her. He's right, it didn't take long in her absence for everything to become overgrown.

We stayed anyways. We had a somewhat functioning farm on the five acres that needed a place to go. We spent the remainder of 2019 hauling up all of our accumulated building materials, our fifth wheel trailer, tools, and all the posts and fencing we had. If nothing else, it would be a great spot to park all our stuff when the 5 acres changed hands. We visited often with loads throughout the season, and spent time attempting to keep the invasive bramble at bay.

It didn't feel any kind of permanent- until 2020 came along with a pandemic. The landowner was traveling as the borders were being shut down. Up until that moment, he was still hoping to sell. When he finally got back into Canada and up to the farm, his tune had changed completely. We sat down and hashed out a rough ten year plan.

He felt extremely grateful to have this beautiful remote mountainside property to isolate in while the world shut down around us. In the wake of food shortages and society losing its shit, he had this. And us. He took the property off the market, invested tens of thousands into an excavator and equipment, and we got to work.

We spent an entire year cleaning up and planning. Over a kilometer of waterline was repaired and connected to bring spring water from the top of the mountain down to the field. We first built a barn completely out of reclaimed materials- just big enough for the goats to hang out with us on long days up the hill, and of course to store things in the loft and keep our tools dry. When it was finished, we could take our goats up to camp.

Almost an acre of blackberry bramble was peeled back off the field. The ground was leveled, and an area was made for our RV to park somewhat permanently. We started collecting materials for the shelter we planned to build around it. We even have a woodstove waiting.

The property owner had put hundreds of hours into operating the excavator. Repairs to the long driveway, the trail system, and the removal of some large dangerous trees. He learned to fix the machines. We spent an entire weekend together getting the dump truck up and rolling to make quicker progress on the land. It kept all of us busy in the strangest year of our lifetime.

On top of the pandemic, we each had our own hurdles to overcome. Not being able to travel is problematic for the landowner. And me suffering my own health crisis on top of everything really slowed me down. My partner has previous injuries that are coming back to haunt him. None of us came to admit it, this was all very daunting.

Though shock was definitely in the jumble of feelings in that moment, I was honestly relieved to hear the news.

Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful property, and I have always felt a deep sense of honour and gratitude for the opportunity to spend our time there. I was always stoked for everything we talked about doing. But also very aware that at any point, it could all be over.

I feel like our presence there gave us each the opportunity to let go of something. Instead of dropping what we were holding on to in haste, we were instead able to put it down gently. I'm glad we were able to do that together. I'm thankful for the opportunity to reflect, and let go of ideals that don't serve me. I'm grateful for this time to learn some things about myself- to be honest with myself. To breathe.


Permanence in transience.
To be continued...

Sunday words

 I've been a little stuck for words lately. Particularly the written ones. Hell I can't even speak what's on my mind the way it appears. Sometimes I feel like maybe I shouldn't say a damn thing. I worry what'll happen if I do. But then.. what'll happen if I don't?

Anyways.

So 2021 eh. It's been interesting so far, I guess.. it's raining. Last day of January and it's only snowed that once since the solstice. I finally ran out of medical leave monies and had to go back to work last week. I ended up right back on the same site I left, 10 months before to the very day.

Not much has changed on the homefront since the farm sold. Did i mention that? A physician owns our farm. I mean, it's a lot more peaceful. Doctor farmer doesn't come around much in winter. He says we're nice people. We're only just doing what we do. Watch over the land, fix things when they break, make sure nothing gets taken. He's been here a few times. Bought a new tractor. Asks questions here and there. Drives here to pick up rent instead of me going all the way to the city. He's nice.


I'm still working on my health. It's not like I didn't already know I wasn't going to get any help with it. Pandemic or not, our medical system has no interest in healing chronic illness. Suppose I just felt I should go through the motions to further prove a point. Even doctor farmer says he goes to India when he needs medical help.. and he's a doctor!

I'm back where I started. Only I feel a little better for having let go of the notion that I could potentially find help outside of myself. For a minute there, I thought I'd wasted time taking leave, stressing about not being at work, having a nice long moment to myself. Alas, the time itself was what I needed, and would never have had otherwise. I had time to observe, notice subtleties and changes in my health depending on input and environment. I would have never in any other circumstances had so much time to just.. do that. Thanks, pandemic.


I'm not out of the woods yet. But I feel like I've begun to forge a path out of its darkest places. I know a long term fix won't be an easy one. I need to simultaneously make small but impactful steps on all facets of my health, not just the physical. I can't run this off, or diet it away. I'm also working on the headspace. And the spirit. A very slow and steady process.

Making very slow.... but steady progress.

I can do this. I mean, I have to, or I die slowly and uncomfortably for the rest of my life. I'm not into that. Happy suNday.

 

Switch

 I think it's safe to say that this year has been an Awakening in some form or another for many of us. For myself, experiencing a Health crisis amidst a pandemic certainly left me shook. Back in 2014 I was in the best health of my life. I promised myself then that I would never let myself fall into a state of dis-ease ever again. And here I am 6 years later, awash in a disarray of medical mystery. 

It took years of hard work and dedication to reclaim my health in my late twenties. Having diminished that almost completely by my mid-30s has left me mourning the loss of something that meant everything to me. Freedom from unnecessary daily suffering. I struggled my entire life with some autoimmune disorder or another, and for the most part I'd finally had them under control. I had found the will and desire to put in the effort to take the best care of myself that I could. I had shelter, a kitchen and a garden. I had learned to make do and thrive in an environment that was once killing me.

Then something happened. Well a bunch of things happened, a sudden change in my state of mind, my environment and my intention. I held onto the self care habits for as long as I could despite my situation, but somewhere along the way I lost the most important thing. My peace of mind.

I catch myself forgetting to breathe sometimes. Anxiety, guilt, depression.. internal things. Feelings I haven't dealt with following a series of traumas. And instead of addressing them, I've buried them in busi-ness and obsessive, damaging behaviours. I've been exporting my efforts into rearing animals and keeping gardens, yet failing to allow myself to fully benefit from the positive environment I'm attempting to create for myself. From the outside looking in, it appears that I should be healthy, but I'm not. I'm sick, and tired, and often and a great deal of pain.

I find myself mindlessly going through the motions of the day. Perhaps I have been stuck on autopilot more than I realized. I find that being more mindful in my actions and more specific in my intentions alleviates anxiety, but I have been forgetting to do this... I feel like I've spent this entire year just waiting for something. All the medical testing, sudden flare ups and fear of the unknown has me stuck in this vicious cycle of distracted inaction.

I'm taking a moment to recognize this, and to write it out as a reminder, and to share it for the sake of accountability. I owe myself better than my current experience. I deserve to enjoy the life that I have built up for myself without being stuck in the clutches of discomfort caused by a myriad of probably preventable health issues that could be avoided by diverting all of this stress. I need to flip the switch.


It's time to do better.

6 years out here.

 6 years ago today I woke up on the West Coast after a three and a half day bus ride. I can still remember how I felt to walk out the door of my friend's house and into my brand new world. I spent a week hiking around the city and the provincial parks that surround it. Massive trees fascinate me, and I Revel in their company. I could feel presence again. I remembered what it was like to be in the moment, to feel every breath.

I had no direction, no real plan. All I knew is that I had arrived, I was home... And my destination would be in every single step to come. I tripped around the mainland for a week before venturing to the island. I spent time there with a good friend to reflect and adventure. I prepared myself to find temporary employment until I figured out my footings.

Temporary employment, a few temporary places, and time had passed.. I even ventured back east in the middle of winter to empty out my locker. I returned to find jobs I enjoyed, gardening by the ocean and on the mountainside. The more time I spent in the city immersed in it's happenings, the more I wanted out of it. I was drawn to the forest, the mountains, the water.. it's what I came for. My quest took be back to nature. Fate forced me into it..

Halloween night 2015- the rain burst through the ceiling in my rental house, straight into my bedroom. I took my rent money the next day and bought a pickup truck. It was my home for half a year, at the base of a mountain down by the river. I learned a lot about myself that winter. My limits, my ability to love unconditionally, my ability to change. The evolution from truck to tent to couch to van to farmhouse was a slow and eventful one.

I remember the day J and I drove all the way out here in sub zero temperatures to look at the house. Small, drafty, but that view... I couldn't get over it, I was instantly smitten. It has a yard, room for a garden. Just enough space to live, and a full kitchen. I had to make this place my home. And I did.. boy did I ever.

Our first year we started as soon as the ground thawed. We built one garden bed, and then another, and another... we were blessed with an abundance to share. Year two brought the animals. Rabbits, goats, and then chickens... year three was the year of the pigs. The year of spiraling outward from our tiny home base. Exploring other land use options in our area. Becoming further integrated into the community. Building real connections with our neighbours.

I woke up this morning, in our fourth year in the valley... 6 years after that first morning I woke up on the coast. Today I had that same sense of presence as I walked out the door to let out the ducks and chickens. I felt a strange wave of accomplishment wash over me as I pulled hay from the loft for the goats. Sometimes I still can't believe it... I brought my hobby farming- homesteading dreams to this great big place and somehow made it happen.


Today I go to bed thankful. My freezer and pantry are full of abundance. My dehydrator has been running for days. The kitchen is loaded with stacks of totes of harvest waiting it's turn to be processed and packed away. Who knew I'd make it this far. Tomorrow is a new day.

[Photographic] memory loss

 Photography is a strange beast in my life. How I ended up getting into it in the first place, was my very first experience of losing photographs. When I was 11 years old, I was lucky enough to attend the Tim Hortons children's camp in beautiful Kananaskis Alberta. It was truly an experience of a lifetime. Memories so grandiose, they shaped the path of the rest of my life. I took with me a 110 film camera. It was 1996.

I took the full roll of pictures, saving one for the flight back home. Or so I thought. After waiting the two weeks for my photos to return from processing, I was all but devastated to realize that there was some sort of a shutter problem. Only the first two pictures on the roll had taken, and the rest were blank. I promised myself I would one day have a proper camera, and return to the mountains. Boy did I ever...

I've experienced some other unfortunate mishaps throughout my photography 'career'. Accidentally exposing an entire roll of film from a ceremony, and when digital first came about I'd unintentionally deleted an entire photo shoot for a Big Time Magazine that involved a bunch of people from a bunch of places getting together. There is nothing I could do but redo it. I will never forget that.



A couple years ago my folks drove all the way out here from back east with all my totes of Photographs & Memories. One big tote in particular had my entire collection of negatives from over the years. The black and white that I developed by hand in the darkroom, the medium format film, years and years and hundreds.. no thousands of still images in their raw form. As well as *all* of my original prints. When they first arrived, I opened them up to take a quick look through, and closed the tote again forever. Until the other day.

It was a dear friend's birthday shortly ago. One of my earliest friends, one that shares the same love and appreciation for photography as I. A friend that stood next to me in that darkroom, that was in so many of those photographs from the years passed. Her birthday inspired me to finally open the box. I unburied it from the stack of totes still awaiting their sorting day, and dragged it out into the light. I opened the lid, and was immediately horrified.

It looked as though someone had opened the lid, poured a bucket of water into the tote, and closed it to let it mold over for the next couple few years. Several different colours of mold at that. Mostly emanating from the darkroom bag that held the negatives. How in the... I have no idea. They'd been in there for easily a decade or more and were fine. Condensation? Some sort of leak? Many of the photographs still in envelopes were stuck together, negatives too. Soggy in their sleeves. I stared dumbfounded for a moment, and then immediately started rifling the moldy envelopes into the trash.

Some of the photos that were on top of the stack of little albums made it out mostly unscathed. And of course the album on top was the oldest one, with said dear friend in the picture. Mission accomplished, at least.. I did my best to take all the moldy bits out of the tote and set it aside. I will at some point, maybe even in the next few weeks, make an attempt to salvage some of the wreckage. Truth be told, having to one day soon deal with these totes has been stressing me out a little. And shockingly, I'm not as devastated as I thought I would be. 

I often wonder why we so value the mementos. Tidbits of the past- we're the only species that seems to hold on to them so. I have thought several times since I moved here that I should have kept my library, craft supplies, paints and useful things that I gave away, and instead given away all of the memorabilia. But that's not what happened. And it's all here, still waiting for me...

A timely pandemic

I'm not sure I want things to go back to normal. I don't think the normal we had was doing us much good. Many of us anyways.. myself included. I've been struggling with my health for years, and this past year has been the most turbulent. It's kind of crazy to even think it, but if it wasn't for this pandemic I may have never woken up to the reality of my situation until it was much too late.

I spent the better part of a week in the hospital on an Intravenous. My pancreas, liver and kidneys went haywire, and my stomach lining was all but gone. I had just experienced the most intense pain of my life, and all I could think about was the fact that I was missing work. I wasn't worried about my health as much as my responsibilities- job wise and financially.

Quite literally I would not have voluntarily applied for medical leave if it was not absolutely required of me at that time. If it were my choice, and I would have been able to proceed with screenings and treatment while still going to work, I would have opted to do so. Even though it hasn't worked for me in the past. Even though I was aware it would be difficult, uncomfortable and possibly dangerous. Even though the likelihood of healing would have been greatly reduced.

It's been 10 weeks, and only now am I beginning to realize how imperative it is for me to be in the best environment possible to heal. I'm not better yet. Hell, I haven't even been able to complete the screening and diagnosis process due to the covid. I've been waiting in limbo trying to figure out for myself what's happening internally so that I can begin to correct it. And honestly, now that I'm getting into it, I truly believe any sort of actual healing would not have been impossible otherwise.

Being mostly homebound, I have the time and mental space to really pay attention to what I'm doing hourly and daily, so that I can monitor how it affects me and my condition. The food I eat, how much and when. How much sleep I get, or don't.. whether I remember to drink enough water to satiate my kidney function..what hurts, what helps, which organs are affected by what,  what becomes inflamed when.

Moving into my eleventh week on the homestead, I'm finally starting to get a good idea. A touch of a grasp on what's happening to me. And even starting to figure out how to manage my condition to keep up with everyday life. Thing is, in order for me to maintain and continue in the direction of healing, the reality of everyday life for me must change.

...

I'm 35 years old. I have been working since I was 14. 40-60 hours a week all summer if I could, and weekends in the school year. The further into high school I got, the more I worked. By the end of school I ended up finishing early so that I could work full time. Not always did I have a place to live, but I always had means of supporting myself. And between work and school it didn't much matter where I spent the very few hours of down time in between.

By 22 I felt the burn. I opted for a seasonal rotation of employment- load up on hours for a couple months at a time so I could take a few months at a time off to travel. The traveling of course came with it's own work, for several summers I'd go to either the east or west coast to work until work ran out, chill for a few weeks to enjoy it, and come back home. Being transient lessened my expenses for certain things, so I spent a little less time doing hard labour so I could spend more time on the trails and in the trees.

It worked well for me for nearly a decade. But as I made a running slide into my thirties, it all caught up to me quickly. My body isn't as keen as it once was sleeping on the ground or in the back of a truck. My recovery time is longer, I need a bit more actual rest. Having a place to call home became imperative, and now it's finally time I take advantage of the opportunity- to use this time at Home to Heal.

...

But I can't go through all this just to come out the other side and go back to normal, the very normal that got me to this level of dis-ease and discomfort in the first place. Every job I've ever had has taken it's toll. It's the only kind of work I know, what I'm good at. Physical. Hard. Work. I'm in construction now, before that was landscaping and gardening on all scales. Before that was warehouse jobs, garden centers, even the photo lab was hard on the body with repetitive heavy lifting of the giant paper cartridges and photo chemicals that I now know had long term effects on my inner organs.

When I ended up taking a dive with my health I'd gotten myself down to 30 hour work weeks already, with 15 hours of driving on top. Though I had the right idea limiting my hours a bit, I don't think it was enough. Reality is though, maintaining a role in society requires an income. I've had a bit of a break from having to stress about that aspect of daily life for a minute, finally utilizing the insurance I've been paying into for years- but my time is almost up.

Now I must consider my reentry into the game. I have to make a decision- going back to what I was doing is not an option if I wish to also maintain my health. I can either go back to work very part time and find other means of supplementing my income, or consider long term disability while I further pursue my health paradox. Both options have their own sets of benefits and drawbacks, so I must carefully weigh my options in the coming weeks.


It's been a timely pandemic indeed. I refuse to let the lessons learned- about my health, job and food security go to waste. It's been an eye opening experience on many levels, and now more than ever, it's time for change.

Essential.

I'm one of the "lucky" ones whose job is considered essential. A couple weeks ago, my health began to fail me as I realized I was in the throes of a terribly painful autoimmune flare. My entire innards are inflamed and bleeding. Wedging me firmly into the "at-risk" category, as if I wasn't there already. For a couple weeks before all this, I was conflicted.. thankful I still have a job to go to, and afraid to go to work.

Just as I was leaving the hospital, my doctor called me. She'd received the reports from my weekend stay and had to check in. I explained to her what was going on and said, maybe I shouldn't be going to work.. I could hear her stand up on the other end of the line as her voice changed, realizing I was still going in..

Stay. Home.

That is what's essential right now. To not go to work and let my body heal. It took me more than a bit to accept this. And even though I have mostly come to terms with it, I keep pushing myself to feel good enough to last a full shift on my feet and moving. Some days are better than others. I've had two days this past week that amount to spending 90% of my time in bed, feeling like garbage.

As it turns out, my staying on the homestead has become my essential role these days. It's been an unusually dry, sunny April which means the freshly seeded beds need to be watered several times a day. Given the current state of things, our ever important food gardens feel extra critical to produce this season. I'm hardly surprised anymore to go to the grocery and not find things like carrots or fresh greens.

Speaking of food availability, another item that's been harder to find these days is eggs. As luck would have it, a friend has the hookups with a local free range organic flock and we're able to source a case of eggs a week to disperse to our neighbours. Not for profits, just for the accompanying joy and sense of accomplishment that comes with knowing you can help someone even in a small way. The experience in doing so has been one that will stick with me for years to come.

I feel the most essential thing to address right now for many of us is our mental health. It's not every day that every facet of our lives is affected by a global pandemic, and the effects unseen can be the most damaging. I spent 2 weeks having panic attacks about still having to work, and harder panic attacks about my job situation possibly shutting down. My body forcing me into taking leave had me scared about getting employment insurance, and even now receiving the funds has come with it's own pile of stress. It's imperative both for my recovery and to make it though this mentally, that I learn to chill the fack out.

To all my essential and frontline working friends, my heart is with you. Thank you for keeping us safe and fed. To my homies working from home, I'm glad you are safe. Please take good care. To everyone caught in the vortex of uncertainty, don't forget- we're in this alone, together. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need a friend to talk to.

Health and Un-wellness

I'm writing about this because it's a part of my
journey. I'm writing about this so that I don't forget.

Wednesday after lunch, I started to feel pain in my back- right around my kidney. I figured with all the stress, and maybe I wasn't drinking enough water that I possibly had a kidney infection. I left work early in a great deal of pain and went to a walk-in clinic. I insisted it had to be an infection. They took a quick urine sample and found that there was no infection, and based on my pain, most likely a kidney stone. I took the doctor's advice and a prescription to help things move along.

The next day, the same pain. Only a little more intense. It had changed and moved, it was now radiating through my core, hurting between my ribs at the base, right on top of my stomach. Having an appointment scheduled to talk to my doctor early Friday morning, I decided to just go home, drink water and try to make myself comfortable until I could get some advice.

Friday morning rolls around, and it seems to have calmed down, although persistent and concerning. I explained to my doctor, she said it could very well be a gallstone, and that if the pain got worse or I felt feverish to go to the hospital right away. I thought to myself, I don't think it'll get bad enough to have to do that. But it did.

We were already home for farming Friday and the doc's appointment, so we did what we do and went up to the farmstead to get some work done. We set up the tent, and started to work on the barn and clearing bramble off the fence. I felt a bit hungry, so I stopped for a snack. Little did I know, I was about to experience the absolute worst pain of my life (so far..).

The pain came on in a matter of minutes, about half an hour after eating. It was intense, suffocating pain. It started as a sharp pinch in my core, and like lighting quickly radiated out through my spine and ribs. I felt like I was simultaneously being blown apart from the inside, and crushed from the outside right around my middle. I was overwhelmed. I couldn't drive, in fact I couldn't stop myself from crying out in pain. We left everything as it was and went back to the house.

I tried the usual, slam some water and sit on the toilet. Everything I tried to do (or not do) seemed to make it worse. I became delirious in pain. I was starting to pass out from it. I begged J not to call 911, but alas... I could hear him on the phone. They could hear me screaming. An ambulance was sent to pick me up right away. I could barely get myself up, but I walked into the ambulance hunched over. They strapped a mask on me and handed me a "just in case" bag.. the pain was making me nauseous. I had completely lost my lunch just before they arrived.

The ambulance attendant asked for a brief of my medical history, starting from now and working back. I realized that by the time I had made it all the way back to my first memories of digestive issues, we were already in town.. a 20 minute drive. The list is long, and health has been a struggle for me my whole life. We arrived at the hospital, and the pain was starting to subside. Blood was drawn, vials were taken.

My bloodwork was showing that my kidneys were in fact inflamed, and my liver enzymes were crazy high. Normal being from 10 to 60 units per liter. Mine was closer to 800. Same with my pancreatic enzymes, they were almost 10 times higher than they should be. They monitored me for a few hours, put an order in for an ultrasound, and eventually sent me home. I was instructed to have liquids if anything, and get some rest, and return in the morning to retest my blood.

The phone woke me up. It was the receptionist in the imaging department asking if I could come in right away. Perfect, I had to go back for morning bloodwork anyways. Everything all at once. I was asked if I had eaten or had anything to drink which I hadn't. I went in right away. My blood levels had come way back down, the imaging showed minor swelling. After assessing the symptoms, the doctor on call had concluded that it was a stomach ulcer and depletion of my stomach lining, but also a possibility of pancreatitis. He didn't think it was likely given my age and general healthy lifestyle, but worth keeping an eye on. He instructed me to stick to a liquid diet for a few days to let my system rest.

Perfect, I thought.. I have a juicer and a blender and it's kind of already how I do. Sunday afternoon rolls around, I'd just made a batch of clear celery and cucumber green juice, and an opportunity arose for us to collect a free table saw from a curbside in town. I drank the juice, loaded into the van, and made it to town and *almost* all the way back... the gas station was closer, so I pulled over. I didn't realize till I went in, of course.. because of the virus, public washrooms aren't open. I went back out towards the van and collapsed.

I did what I was told. I had stuck to liquids, I thought I was okay. But this time.. this time was even more intense than ever. I felt like I drank a bottle of molten lava. I was screaming uncontrollably. J picked me up and took me the rest of the way home so that I could die on the toilet. He was visibly upset. I begged him not to call an ambulance in my disoriented screams. He called my parents, he called his parents.. he was in tears and didn't know what to do. He demanded I get in the truck, he could get me to the hospital faster than waiting for the ambulance. Once my guts finally finished spasming out all the liquids I'd consumed, I literally crawled bawling to the truck.

It was the longest ride of my life. I struggled to breathe between heaving from the pain. He pulled up at the emergency doors and I tumbled out into the driveway. The doctor from the morning before was there. He wasn't impressed to see me back. I insisted that I'd followed his instruction, and yet the pain had doubled this time. It was the worst thing I'd felt ever. I was delirious. I was hooked up to the cartiograph machine, and then rushed into an xray.

After several attempts on my tiny veins, the nurse finally found a place to put an IV and immediately loaded me up. Within minutes I couldn't feel a thing. I barely remember being hooked up to a drip, and being taken to a bed. All I remember was wretching every time I tried to move from the sheer intensity of the morphine. They'd stacked me with a quadruple dose. Given the amount of pain I was in, I wasn't about to complain...

I came to, wide awake of course, at 4am as I do, in a bed in a big room by myself. I still had my mukluks on in the bed. Once I was able to stand, I rolled my IV stand and myself to the washroom. And that's about as far as I'd get.

It was a long day. It seemed like an eternity had passed in this big room all alone. The nurse came in to change my fluid bag. I spent most of my time trying to find a position to lay that was tolerable for the pain in my core, but possible without ripping the tube from my vein. I wished I'd brought a book. The pain was still present, but it left enough space for my mind to wander.

Around 9am, an unexpected food tray arrived. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to eat it. Jello, apple juice and coffee. I asked for water. I tried a couple scoops of jello and just a sip of juice, and it was near instant regret. As the pain rose in my torso, I felt a bit defeated. Frustration set in. I asked the nurse if I could have broth and tea next time.

1030am. I'm unhooked. The IV port was still in my hand, but I was given time off the drip to adjust for lunch. Eventually I got my broth and tea. It took a while, but I was able to drink most of it down. It felt good to be able to drink something warm. Just after I finished, the doctor came in. She told me what was going on with my pancreas, and then started through the list of possible reasons. First question as always, do you drink? No, I haven't for years. It's the most common cause if pancreatitis and I have never been a drinker. Smoke? Nope, quit two years ago. Saturated fats? Processed foods? No and no.. in fact, I often get made fun of at work for how healthy I eat.

I explained to her all the other problems I've had over the years, and the events leading up to this, and as soon as I mentioned a slough of autoimmune disorders I've had and currently struggle with, it clicked. It's my own immune system. But why? That's the mystery...

Sooo how long I gotta stay in the hospital for? Given the current state of things, the hospital is an extra anxious place to be. She said to me, as soon as we're sure you can at least keep something liquid down. I pointed to the empty bowl and half empty tea. I explained to her that I can't handle the rest of the acidy sugary things on a good day. She implied that she'd rather I stay to avoid another episode, but if I could promise to stick to their strict guidelines, I could be allowed to leave until my CT scan. We talked and waited a little bit longer to be sure. Once I proved I was capable, the discharge forms were completed and the port removed from my hand.

My doctor called as soon as I got home. She'd received the reports from the hospital from all my visits over the weekend, and knowing me, she'd praised me for actually going to a hospital like she'd said. I have an amazing doctor, and I know I'm lucky for that. She's willing to help me find the best specialists to look into what's happening to me. But for now, rest. She ordered me to stay home. I need to heal.


So, that's what imma do...
To be continued.

2020- going viral.

Friday morning I went to my secret little grocery store next to one of our job sites in the city. Up until now in this hysteria, nobody really knew about it unless they lived close by. I wanted to stock up on produce for the weekend for my juice feast, and the store was packed for 10 in the morning. Usually it's pretty quiet on my break.

There was barely 6 packs of toilet paper left, no water, very little canned food, almost no rice... it's setting in. The lineups were running back around the store to cash out. I was able to grab all of the produce I went in for... given the utter chaos, this surprised me.

I understand the CDC recommending people always have a month's worth of food on hand in case of things like this, natural disasters that close roads, weather events that close stores etc. I get that. Especially living out here, which is why we're always as stocked as can be. Our reserves saved us this winter when we were stuck at home during storms, and short on cash not having worked our regular hours. Life would have been hungry without it.

It's easy to do without waiting till shit hits the fan and having to join the masses in the panic buying insanity. Buy a couple extra things when you shop. If it's an item you use regularly and it's on sale, buy two. That sort of thing. Keep your cupboards full and wash your hands, and you'll more than likely survive the winter. Our reserves are a little short coming out of the slow season, but I don't have the money right now to fill a cart with dry goods, and my health right now depends on the fresh stuff.

I'm standing there in line with my hand basket full of produce, and the people with overflowing carts of everything under the sun are looking at me like I'm crazy. I was just grateful that no one had clued in yet to buy any fresh fruits and vegetables. I felt almost foolish stocking up for my weekend of juicing.

I wonder how far this will go, how crazy people will get before this is over. I wonder if in the next few days it'll calm down, or if the hysteria will ramp up tenfold as the government steps in to make us all stay home. I wonder if people going into panic mode will end us before any virus does. I wonder if this will change our generation.

Don't get me wrong, of course the virus concerns me. I have a compromised immune system, and my lungs are already damaged from years of abuse. I'm worried for the majority of my neighbours here that are well onto the most vulnerable age bracket. I'm concerned for my folks and older relatives back home. I'm worried that if it gets any worse, it'll affect our community economically, negatively impacting small local businesses and farmers.

We are doing our part by not going places we don't need to. Social distancing isn't really a problem for us, we're the type of people to keep to ourselves. Given people's behaviour the past week, I'm not enthusiastic about exposing myself to the madness. I have no problem with staying home. Gardening isn't cancelled. Speaking of which..

We're getting started out in the yard. Now that we know we'll be here for at least another season, we can start thinking about what to plant. We had considered putting the farm camp build on hold so that I can focus on regaining my health. The current situation has us thinking it will be in our best interest to proceed. It'll be a delicate balance of energy, and we have to remember to pace ourselves.

Things are changing quickly, and now with a global pandemic in the mix, 2020 is bound to be interesting.

I need a minute...

Life got real intense all of a sudden. The past year has been a complete whirlwind. Early in 2019 we were granted use of a five acre homestead, a field and a barn. We got a taste of working on a slightly bigger scale, and it challenged us to adapt quickly. Suddenly we had a couple pigs, then four, then eleven?! Along with an RV camper in the field next to a quarter acre garden. We had an opportunity to try growing dozens of crops we'd never had space for, including four varieties of potatoes and 27 kinds of heirloom tomatoes!

Somewhere along the line, our home base faced a threat and we were forced to figure out a backup plan. We scrambled to set up something somewhat livable in the field and figure out what to do with our belongings. Not a week later, we found out that the five acre acre homestead was also suddenly off the table. The renter that we were subletting the barn and field from was asked to leave after 15 years of renting- which was totally unexpected.

Our main focus at that point became very outward. We diverted all of our energy into looking for a new place to happen. At the height of our search we were presented with an opportunity that was impossible to resist- acreage, forest, orchard and pasture. Space to build, water on site, miles of potential and possibilities. But a completely blank slate.

In all of this, I've been waiting patiently to address my health more properly. After almost a year of waiting, I finally got the appointment that would start the ball rolling on getting a proper diagnosis. Admittedly, all of this finding my health stuff was tossed on the back burner with no chance of recovery in the near future.

Overwhelmed is an understatement. All of this on top of working in the city most of the week, having the farmer's market every Saturday during the growing season, and volunteering for the food waste diversion program every Sunday- life is very very full. My cup overfloweth...

We spent the fall and winter months pushing forward to collect materials and start rebuilding. Knowing that I was spreading my energy too thin, I allowed it. Embraced it.. and when I finally took that minute to take a look at my health, I got sick. Real sick. Perhaps if I hadn't drained myself of every drop of energy every day all season, it might not have hit me so hard. And of course in the thick of the sickness, our van sprung a leak.. and our well pump stopped working. Not having running water when sick is just as fun as it sounds. And the van needed fixing as if the extra expense was exactly what we needed.

So while I'm laid out here in bed, too exhausted to launder my clothes after a few days without water, too sick to take part in any of the rad plans I had this weekend, and too annoyed by the sound of my own wheezing to fall asleep... I reflect.

I need a minute.

That's a difficult thing for me to admit. I feel guilty for the things I miss, the work I'm not getting done, the people I might be letting down. I pushed myself too hard for too long and I'm paying for it dearly. I need time to think about my decisions, what I can do for myself, and what I might need to let go of. I need a minute to rest. 

2020 Time Warp- big things!

I can't believe it's the end of January. 2020 has already made itself out to be quite the ride. In the past few short weeks, so much has changed. This is going to be a big year!

The first unexpected thing to happen was life changing. Our landlord that has been pushing feverishly to have us move along has had a change of heart. Through the process of preparing to move, a million reasons why we shouldn't leave the house floated through our minds. Figuring how exactly we're going to be successful at moving fully off grid in just a few short months was very daunting with all things considered. I don't know exactly what triggered his decision to let us stay, but we're thankful for it. This doesn't in any way mean we're halting the off grid build, it just means we have plenty more time than we figured. We still intend to move forward full tilt, and keep it as our summer escape. For now. Having a plan B is never a bad thing.

I think a big part of the reason we butted heads so much with him was that they're out here full time through the summer months. It's hard to relax and enjoy our Saturdays when they're out here spraying their crops and having bus loads of pickers working around our house at all hours. Having a peaceful dinner on the porch during the week isn't a thing in the summer, the constant interjection keeps us on edge, and creates unnecessary conflict. I wasn't surprised when he served the eviction notice, nor was anyone else. He's known for being a dicey character, and the fact that we've been able to keep the peace with him for so long is baffling to those that know him.

The next big thing I wasn't expecting in January was a call from the BC Women's Hospital. I've been waiting for an appointment with a specialist for months, but was expecting a call around September. There was a cancellation, and I was on the 'urgent' list so they called with an open appointment. I finally get the chance to address one of the several autoimmune diseases that has been plaguing my life with an unreal amount of suffering and sickness. I'm nervous but also good and ready to finally have an opportunity to get real help!

Besides this, my overall motivation to take control of my health has been rekindled. After reading several case studies and researching diet and environmental inputs that trigger autoimmune reactions, I feel like I have a much better informed idea of how to help myself. Foods to eliminate, including ones you'd never suspect to be triggers! And what kinds of stresses are doing the most damage that I can strategically defuse over time.

And now, of all the things I had never imagined myself doing... today we loaded up the goats to bring them to a filming studio in the city. They met up with a recruiter and animal trainers to work with them on a filming set. It was very exciting! They're well trained, good mannered little dudes that won over a heart or two. Wouldn't it be something if they had a show of their own some day. They are the goodest boys.

Life is so strange and unpredictable. It's only just the end of January, and I can't imagine what other weird and wonderful opportunities and experiences we have to look forward to this year. Be sure to stay tuned to our YouTube channel for videos and updates! Thanks for reading..
Happy 2020!

YouTube.com/c/TheWanderingFarmers

Taking Back Time.

I'm having a hard time with something, I always have. And I know I'm not the only one. I'm just gonna come right out and say it- 40 hour work weeks are bullshit. When we were indie contractors, we basically made our own schedule. We would work when the materials/ stages were ready, and if we finished earlier we'd leave early, still getting the flat rate that we had billed for the job. Our jobs were completed efficiently and on time, and we still had time for our lives. Every once in a while we'd have to do long days to get a project finished, but for the most part, worked on average 30 hours a week. Unfortunately as indie contractors, the work wasn't always guaranteed, so we decided to seek out a company to hire us as a team. 

When we were hired by this company, we did our first week like 'normal' workers. We tried the 8-8.5 hour work days, plus the drive, plus our home and farm chores. The company had a sample of our work ethic, and we had a taste of 40 hour weeks on top of our busy half way homesteading life. Then we had our official 'on the books' hiring meeting. We explained how we love the work, take pride in our work, but can't fit a 40 hour work week plus commute into our lifestyle. Much to our surprise, they were more than willing to work with us, given the quality of work we provide.

It's been over a year. We have it worked out to have every other Friday off. We work 7 hour days, and a four hour day evey other Friday. We're paid biweekly, so we'd work a half day, get our checks, do our banking, groceries and errands with the rest of our 'shift'. 28 and 32 averages to 30 hour weeks, or 60 hour pays. Because of tax brackets and whatnot, we only make roughly 60-80 less a week missing those 10 hours. Let that sink in for a minute..

When we worked 40 hour weeks, we were making 600 more a month combined. But! We had 40 hours *less* time a month. Divide that up, that's only an 'additional' 15 bucks an hour... COMBINED. that means those 'extra' 10 hours a week, we were only taking home an extra $7.50 an hour each because working more hours meant we were making more money- and thus had more deductions taken. Plus we save on fuel and miscellaneous spending that happens when we go to work. After all said and done, we're basically giving those extra 10 hours a week away for free. Going to work every day costs time *and* money.

And to what advantage? The company doesn't get any more or better quality work out of me. In fact, longer days means I'm more exhausted the next day and production slows down. It's an observable fact that we as 30 hour a week workers get more done than the "full timers". The company benefits by getting the same or more and better quality work without having to pay for more hours. We get more hours a week to live our lives. Win, win.

There's 168 hours in a week. I spend roughly 50 hours a week sleeping or resting, that leaves 118. My 30 hours working, so 88 left. 13 hours average commuting takes us down to 75. 30 hours a week on farm chores, 25 left.. so if we were working 40 hour weeks, we would have 15 hours a WEEK of idle time. That's it. That's for extra projects, reading, shopping for stuff we need, volunteering, going for a walk, spending quality time together and with our animals, friends and family, leisure activities.. life outside of work. Real, life.

No....

No. That's not enough. This is our life we're talking about here, and we should really consider living life before we're too old to do anything about it..


I understand that it's my choice to have 30 hours a week of farm chores, gardening, working at home. But some people work two jobs to get that food, or to be able to afford various lifestyle choices. I choose to grow my food, and live this life. That's the kind of 'work' I'd rather do to keep myself fed. I'm not at all saying that my way is the right way, and everyone should work less so they can stay home and grow food. I realize that's not possible for everyone. What I'm saying is, I feel that we truly undervalue our time on this earth. And not just monetarily. Our hourly wages, is that really all we're worth?

Someone, somewhere at some point in time set this standard of living that many of us in this current societal structure have adhered to. I think it's about time that we reevaluate these standards as individuals. What do we really need in our lives? What are we paying money (and thus time) for that really doesn't benefit us? Is there some way we can shift our energy to be put into something more self-fulfilling instead of selling the best of ourselves to someone else and not getting an appropriate return? What can I do or create that I can use myself or sell/ barter/ trade for what I do need?

This is just the beginning for me. As my lifestyle shifts to one more rooted in nature, I am exploring more opportunities to be self-sufficient. I am working to shift to a more home-based means of accumulating income, and less of a need for one. When I envision 'retirement', I'm not old, leaving a company I've given my best years to, settling down and waiting to die. For me, retiring will be when my own life and how I live it provides enough abundance to no longer need to hit a punch clock on someone else's dream. The following 'meme' is basically a summation of what I'm getting at..

"My goal is to build a life
I don't need a vacation from"

That is essentially it. No one is saying anything about not having to work. A productive life will always require work. My goal is to get to a point where I only have to attend a "regular day job" enough to cover basic bills, and have the time I need to build, grow, seek and trade for the things I need myself. Put the effort, and time and hard work into my life, the land on which I live, and my community. For now, it is what it is. Slowly buy truly, we're taking back our time.

The Purge- Where to begin.

It's still strange to think about leaving this place. This little farmhouse on the Slough has been the first real tangible experience of home that I have had in my entire adult life. It's amazing what you can pack into 420 square feet, it's even more amazing what one can accumulate in just a few short years. It's time to start shedding the weight in more ways than one.

I don't know how I let myself get so cluttered. Life has a way of doing that... it was a bit overwhelming to think of at first. Where do I begin letting go? The obvious answer is within. I let my health get away from me. I'm carrying far more weight then I'm supposed to be. Both literally and everythingly... I need to get a few things off my shoulders.

I've been in this state of dis-ease before. There's no magic pill, there's no wonder diet. You have to want health to be healthy. So I'm starting the cleansing process with me. I'm doing everything I can to eliminate dietary stresses, and not allow external stresses that create extra weight. I love bread and cheeses and soy and all the delicious things I shouldn't eat having an autoimmune disorder. But no amount of delicious foods will ever be worth the pain and discomfort that I experience constantly if I include them in my diet. Sugar Cravings are real, caffeine Cravings are real... but I'm sick of the up and down, the peak and crash. I want to feel my best all the time and my body deserves what it needs to be healthy. And stress free.

Stress free is key, essentially. The next layer of stress to peel back is the one that surrounds me in my home. The space between myself and the four walls that contain me. We have accumulated a lot of things both together and separately. My folks brought me 11 totes of my entire history from Ontario which I have been systematically eliminating most of the contents of one by one. The idea of trying to store all of these things that I've been carrying around with me my whole life is extremely stressful, I have been doing my best to part with all and anything that does not spark Joy.


De-cluttering my home and my diet come hand-in-hand for me. I feel like I can't be successful with one if I don't also do the other. Because the impending move itself will be a big change with its own chapters of stress to overcome, doing everything we can to minimize our workload until then is critical. Both so that we can put the time needed into preparing our new site, and have a bit of an easier transition. Winter is coming, and I hear we are getting a real one this year.

The next zone to scale back is the one outside our house.. the hobby farm. Given that we will be starting from scratch at our next intended location, we decided to minimize our herd over the next few weeks. Starting with one of my favourite parts of hobby farming. The chickens. A few days after I came back from Ontario, our beautiful rainbow flock was decimated by a couple mink in one night. All of my rainbow layers, my new girls that I had been waiting several months for them to finally start laying Robin blue eggs, my favourite black Australorp... gone.

After two years of having chickens here and never having a problem with predators, we were confident that we had our Chicken Coop on lockdown. We quickly fixed the breach and caught the perpetrators, and haven't had a problem since. Unfortunately, all of the survivors but one are retirees that no longer lay. I had to make a difficult decision to re-home the flock. Given that they are no longer productive, it doesn't make sense for me to keep them as they are the most intensive animals that we have to maintain. When we are getting eggs, any of the expenses incurred would be gained back in their production. Having them here on our small hobby Farm is no longer sustainable. They will be moving along to greener pastures at the end of the month. I will really miss having them, but I'm confident that we will end up adopting a new flock when the time is right.

The pigs have got to go. Maybe we will keep a breeding pair and take them with us, but only if we're sure we can secure the infrastructure in time. The meat rabbits will be shuffled along to those who await. Clover might have to join us in the trailer for a while.

All of this in preparation for the ultimate purge- ourselves from this place. As much as we have put into this house and the land, it's time to move along. The house is old and falling apart, and we have outgrown the land as well as the relationship with it's owner. We'd grown too comfortable in these four walls and ignored the fact that maybe they weren't the best for us. We are grateful for the community we have connected with, and will happily take those bonds with us. Onward and Up....

Home and back- and a Health Crisis

It's been a crazy year. More big changes and intense happenings than I can count. I haven't been writing, and it bothers me. I suppose a part of the problem is I never know where to begin. Another being it's often hard to find the right words. And time management, and anxiety, and the list goes on. I'm taken aback but how quickly this year has passed. Time needs to slow down for just a minute.

I flew home on the 13th of September, Friday... A full moon. The entire Journey from take off- flight- and arrival, to departure and every moment in between was so critical in a shift that needed to happen within for me to find peace. Every person I got the chance to connect with reminded me exactly why I'm here and what I need to do to continue my journey. Thank you for that. So here's where I'm at...

It's no mystery that I've been struggling with my health. For those of you who have known me for a number of years probably remember the incredible health transformation I had made in my final years in Ontario. I was having next to no autoimmune flare ups, and I lost all the weight. All. Every unnecessary pound. I actually felt great most of the time, even my Endo was giving me a break. I blogged about it. I did well. I didn't eat a single crumb of bread. I made a green juice everyday, and after a year or so actually enjoyed them.

And then came a series of unfortunate happenings. Some really incredible ones too, but I experienced some dark times. I fell back onto old eating patterns because cheap (or free) available foods that kept well was all I could manage for a while. I was in a rough place financially, had just uprooted to a far off province, and of course.. lost my mother. Soon after uprooting, the house that I was staying in had a major mold problem (triggering my autoimmune shit) making me sick and homeless at the start of winter. The house was soon after condemned.

The intense spiral continued and I found myself under constant stress and frequent moments of anxiety. My body responded as it does. Sickness, inflammation and weight gain. I thought I had found my out when I found the little house in the country. After two years of not having a place to call home, I thought I'd struck gold. And I did in many ways. The community is amazing, and I couldn't have asked for better neighbours. And did I mention that million dollar view? At least a thousand times by now..

Unfortunately, the stress did not subside. Moving to the country in the middle of a harsh winter and not knowing anyone was a gamble. Still freshly self employed, every day of snow meant jobsite shutdown which meant no money. It snowed and snowed. The anxiety rocked me. Then not three months in to our tenancy in the little farm house, the landlord started with his threats. He had a problem with every little thing we did. This trend continued over the almost three years we lived there. Not being able to afford anything else (and loving everything about being there besides the owner), we decided to stick it out. Between his ignorance and constant use of poisons (without notice as he's supposed to before spraying), my stress levels and associated illness ran rampant.

But I was in denial. How could we find such a seemingly perfect place to be and yet have so many problems? It's a thing. I woke up every day for months with intense gut aches. It became my new normal. I continued with my challenge to find health. I started jogging in the evenings after work, I bought a juicer, I went to bed early. It seemed like I'd get somewhere for a little while, and then the struggle would intensify. I lost my energy. The daily aches and chronic fatigue caught up with me. I drowned it all out with distractions like farming and animals and volunteering for our local market.

This past summer I hit my Tipping Point. The truck had major problems. It cost a bunch of money to fix, but still not enough for it to be worth it to sell her. Having to take out a loan meant I would be getting short paychecks for a while, missing a few days lost me enough money that everything I had saved to fly home I had spent, and my folks ended up buying me the tickets to fly home. I was grateful for the wonderful gift, but at the same time horrendously anxious about leaving the farm and my job for that length of time with literally no money to spare.

It was almost a month to the day before I was supposed to fly to Ontario, when my landlord decided that evicting me was the best course of action for something we disagreed on. I was given 30 days notice, the day I was to vacate the premises was the day I was to land in Ontario. That was it. That was the straw that broke me. I was overwhelmed with sickness from the stress of the situation. I was absolutely devastated. On top of that, not three days later our Back-up Plan fell through and our friend was also evicted from the 5-acre property we had been slowly moving our farm to. By that point I was already in shock, and there wasn't much that would surprise me.

Going home was my saving grace. It couldn't have happened at a better time. My spirits have been uplifted. Spending time with my family was a good start in the healing process. Though I wasn't fully aware of what lied ahead in my journey to health, I'm 111% sure that I wouldn't have found the same kind of motivation elsewhere. I'm still tired. Everything still hurts. But you all reminded me that I will make it. That this journey is just another of my crazy adventures, and I'll figure it out. That under the pain and sickness, I'm still me.. Sadie Sea.

Stay tuned...

The Wandering Farmers- Life in Limbo

So here we are in a beautiful place, surrounded by wonderful Neighbors, doing what we do. We wander, we Farm, we Garden! In the past 3 years since we moved out here with nothing but a couple of garbage bags of clothes, our work tools and Starship Delilah our beloved Adventure mobile... Things have changed. We made the best out of our situation, and we found ourselves surrounded in abundance despite the fact that we have never been financially endowed.

The riches that we have acquired are worth so much more to us than money ever could be. We have gained access to land that we do not own to keep animals and big Gardens. We had the opportunity to experiment and learn about various crops we could grow in our area. We have been trusted to harvest crops for our neighbours and share the abundance with our community. And that's the most magical part... Our community!

We moved here in the middle of winter, January 2017. Shortly thereafter we were hit with a heavy ice storm that knocked out power and made it impossible for us to drive off of our road. I packed a small bag of snacks and my camera gear and went for a walk up the road. That day I met many of our neighbours. Had wonderful conversations with the elders on our road, was introduced to Leonard's woodshop, an old man Jack's epic junk pile. I met some cute dogs and their owners, said hello to the horses, and took beautiful photos of the birds and the scenery. By the end of my walk, this place felt like home.

Our first year here, our focus was very inward. We put most of our energy into our little garden, and we were able to grow enough produce to share with anyone and everyone that stopped by. Our second year we collected animals that needed rescuing from various situations, and we had ourselves a hobby farm! This year, our third year we were able to expand over neighbouring properties. We have been so blessed to be a part of a community that has wanted nothing more for us than to see us succeed.

And now, we have to move! When we first found out that our landlord is deciding to sell, we started preparing by moving the majority of our equipment and garden to the five-acre farm up the road. We borrowed the truck to park our 5th wheel trailer in the field, started fixing up the old barn to house the pigs, and knocked down the rotted old roof off the back in preparation to build a chicken coop. We had no idea at the time that we were about to be asked to move off of this property as well.

When our landlord first gave us notice, he had given us until mid September via a completely illegal eviction. A week later, the property owner of the five acres decided after 15 years of renting to a friend that they would like that property back. They had given us until October 1st. With thirty some odd animals, a pig about to give birth, and winter coming... this was all too soon.

We spent another week cycling through panic and exhaustion as we struggled for a plan. We took to social media to find us a new field and home. Much to our surprise, we had several offers. After careful deliberation, we chose our future plot. Rich in all resources, but one major thing remains... where us humans will call home.

Thankfully, both land owners have given us grace. I'm not sure how that worked out exactly, but I'm grateful. Come early spring, we will be vacating both farms. I'll miss the view, and our neighbours too, but the time for change has come.. every five years. It's been five years to the day since I woke up in BC after a 3 day bus ride west. It's almost unfathomable how far I've come since then. Given everything I've made it though to get where I'm at today, I suppose I can handle a little bit of life in limbo. Let the adventures begin.. again!

The Wandering Farmers

2019 has been an interesting year so far... I can't believe I didn't get a moment to write about it. In early March we acquired a 5-acre plot on which to Farm that includes a big old barn, a couple of old tractors use, and a big wide open space for a garden.

One of our neighbors helped us out with a large plow turn and prep the field for planting. We planted right away. April was intense. Each day we would dig a new row, plant more seeds and pull more weeds. We were overwhelmed with possibilities.

We managed to find a portable water pump, hundreds of feet of fire hose, a small rototiller, and a whole slew of hand tools on Craigslist and Marketplace, and sitting around at a friend's place going unused. Not to mention piles and piles of reclaimed Lumber and tin roofing that we could use to repair the Barn.

We adopted pigs to add to the herd in May, and they have been so much fun! We collectively discovered the pigs can be trained to go for a walk in the woods. One time we even managed to get the goats to come with us!

We have been doing what we can and acquiring as much as we need for minimal or no cost. Farming on borrowed land is never guaranteed, but it's nice to have all the things we need. We even managed to find a fifth wheel trailer that we traded for our old broken-down classic Plymouth Voyager. It was like it was meant to be.

It's been an amazing summer. Between the Sandy Shores Farm, the Sandy Shores Garden share and working our new job, we have made so much progress. We moved out here 3 years ago with nothing more than a van full of personal items, and now here we are! Full on hobby farmers in the Fraser Valley. I could not be more grateful.