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. 

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.

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.

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...

Summer Daze.

What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, I know what's wrong with me, and I know what I have to do about it, but I just... don't. I make excuses. I don't have the time or energy to take better care of myself. Yet if I made the time, I'd have the energy!

This past year has been one of the best of my life. I met my amazing partner (the one my mother described to me but I didn't believe existed), I finally started driving, I moved to a beautiful place where I have a monster garden, surrounded by lakes and mountains that I enjoy fishing and exploring.. and yet here I am, feeling like a piece of shit.

I have made a little bit of progress since my last post though. I'm working on my anxiety. I suppose I've been stuck in that "too good to be true" mentality for so long that my mind tricks me into believing that it's real. That if everything is good, there must be something happening behind the scenes that's out to get me.

Don't get me wrong, it's not all easy and sunshine and rainbows, it's hard work to maintain this lifestyle and at times, shit happens. And like in any relationship, there's personal histories on both sides that make it difficult at times to relate. But overall, I couldn't have imagined myself being in a better situation. This is my opportunity to better myself and I don't want it to go to waste.

My partner and I walked down to the slough yesterday to pick blackberries, when out of the blue my good friend from back home (who I regard as my little sister) messaged me to tell me she had purchased a juicer. She said that I had always been an inspiration when it comes to healthy living. It was in that moment that I truly realized I had let myself down. I felt guilty that I could inspire someone else to make healthy lifestyle choices when I myself am fully failing in that department. What a wakeup call.

Summer is nearly over. I thought that by moving out here I'd finally be in a position to do what needs doing to get my health in order. It's been 6 months. I'd imagined myself being a lot healthier by now, and having the energy to enjoy all the goodness that is surrounding me.

It. Is. Time.

The crash.

I haven't published a post in a while, though I have many sitting in draft that I just haven't been able to finish. Sometimes it's hard to find the words. 

I'm coming up on my 3 year mark of permanently uprooting myself from Southern Ontario, and a lot has changed since then. There have been many ups, and some pretty severe downs.. and though on the outside I have made a lot of progress and achieved some pretty rad life goals, on the inside I'm falling apart. 

My health is failing, being the number one down. My physical health, which I had come to master on my own through nutrition, exercise and meditation, I have all but lost touch with. This is affecting my mental health in a serious way this past 9 or so months, and as a result I have been pushing away my partner. 

I'm on the brink of losing everything I have worked so hard to achieve, just as I'm about to finally make a huge step forward in my career. If I don't get my health in order, and fast, I'm going to be in some serious trouble. I don't want that. I don't want to lose out on decent job opportunities, on the homestead I've put my heart and soul into, and the partner that helped me make it all happen. I must make a change before it's too late. 

One day at a time, right?

I woke up this morning, sick and tired of being sick and tired. I awoke to the realization that if I don't take control today, I won't have the energy to keep on working, to maintain that beautiful garden, to keep getting out into the world, on the water, into the mountains. 

I have everything in life I could have ever dreamt of and then some, and I have been letting it go to waste by letting myself go to waste. I don't want to be sick anymore, or angry, anxious or depressed. I want to live the life I have, and be happy. 

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I will make it a good one. I will only eat healthful, nutritious foods, I will do my best not to have a cigarette, and I will smile. 

...

If you're reading this, thank you. For your love and support and kind words and thoughts. I would have never had the strength to keep my head above water the past few years without you. I will get through this, like everything else. One day at a time. 

The adventures of staying put.

If you know me, you know I have a hard time with the idea of staying anywhere too long. I get itchy feet, the travel bug bites me pretty frequently. Or at least it did.. I'm not sure if I'm just getting old or I've finally grown out of it. Not completely, I still like adventuring, as long as I have my home base to which I can return.

I've had some tempting offers for travel come my way the past few weeks, which I somewhat hesitantly declined. Usually if someone says to me, hey let's drive across the country or, grab a flight my way I have a place for you to crash while we go explore for the next month... I'd be all over it like white on rice. Not this time.

Staying put is an adventure for me. Putting down roots and having a place of my own is a kind of unknown. I've moved more times than the number of years I've been alive. Most of my twenties were spent toting a rucksack someplace or other. Renting rooms, basements or storage lockers to keep my belongings in place while I wander.

...


There's excitement in having a space to grow a huge garden. Every day something is happening out there, sprouting, growing, changing. Being able to produce my own food and have extra to share sounds like a pretty good time to me. Having something to look after and put energy into that has a bountiful return. It's fun, satisfying and relaxing to spend time wandering the rows and maintaining the plots.

Our space changes every day. Structures are built as they're needed, then disassembled and re-purposed as our needs fluctuate. Today the bird scares were taken down and their posts became our fence. Our poly tarps became our greenhouse, our rocks to hold the tarps in place became a border for the zucchini patch.

...


I appreciate simple luxuries such as having a kitchen to cook and create in. I don't mind having to clean it knowing it's my very own space. I get to use it whenever I want. That's a pretty rad thing coming from a long history of rooming houses, hostels, crashing couches, shared spaces or no place at all. Maintaining my home and living space is a pleasure I don't take for granted.

I feel so lucky and so blessed to have found a place in a small town in the valley. The commute to work can be a little far at times, but at least it's a nice drive with a sweet view and not being caught in gridlock city traffic. The sky is always changing, the clouds put on a show. We see columns of rain, patches of snow, and often enough a beautiful rainbow.

We went to town to buy a line trimmer on the weekend. And I was thrilled! It was my birthday gift. I couldn't wait to take it home and make my yard look good. I'm stoked for the season to change so I can see what this place looks like when the trees have leaves and it's sunny all day.

Oh yeah, and I'm learning a trade which in itself is another huge adventure. I'm getting better every day. If I learn the ins and outs, I could be traveling in the future to follow the work. I think we're in a pretty decent place to be close to developments for a good few years to come while still being able to enjoy life outside of it all.

Life is good. And still an engaging challenge to navigate through day to day life. Staying put isn't necessarily an 'easier' way of life than being transient, it's just different. Maintaining a routine, a house, a garden, a schedule.. it's satisfying. Learning more about our little town and the people in it is intriguing. I'm excited for the upcoming farmer's market season. For summer, and autumn, and everything coming full circle.

Bring it Spring

It's been a long, cold and eventful winter, and I'm glad to finally see it's end. At the start of the season I had no idea where I'd be by the end of it, or that we'd get so much snow. Lesson learned, trust the almanac.

Moving out to the valley in the middle of winter was a huge risk for us, but I'm glad we made the move. Though it's not officially spring until tomorrow, we've been busy the past few weeks prepping our garden beds between the last couple winter storms.

The gardens are finally ready for planting. It took a lot of time and hard work to turn our compacted sandy, somewhat grassy yard into a rich, prime place to grow some food. Now that the topsoil and composted manure is turned in,  the grass is weeded out, and the beds are raked into rows, we can begin to sprout our seeds.

A lot of what we have will be started indoors over the next couple weeks, and after last frost the rest can be sown directly into the soil. We have 21 rows total between the two beds to work with, and a few dozen types of seed.

Our landlord was worried at first that we wouldn't have the time to maintain such a large growing space given how much we work, but so far even with shorter daylight hours we've managed to make it happen. It kinda helps that the van has been out of commission for drives to the city the past couple weeks, so I've had to skip out on the landscaping. Spending almost ten less hours a week stuck in traffic has given me more time to focus on other things.

My apprenticeship for instance. When I first started working with metal I wasn't as confident that I'd ever be good enough at it to make a living. But since I haven't been able to go to the city to focus on the landscaping, I've been working full time improving my metal working skills. It's another one of those things I'd never seen myself getting into but I'm glad I did.

Being contractors means setting our own hours, and since my productivity is improving we don't have to spend so many hours at work. We can indulge in occasional journeys down to the river to get our lines wet before work, finish a house, and still have enough daylight hours and energy to go home and play in the dirt.

Our lifestyle out here supports both my longing for a stable home base, and my sense of adventure. For once I'm finally able to get the best of both worlds. I have a place to call home in beautiful surroundings where I can garden and be comfortable, and I'm closer than ever to the wilds. It's taken a while for the reality to set in. Just a few months ago we had no real plan besides making it thorough the winter. And here we are, on the cusp of spring, ready to plant.. putting down roots in the valley. Thank the gods for our home sweet home.

Breaking ground.

It's been a long time since I've had a chance to reestablish Sandy Shores Farm, and I'm stoked for our new location. It's kind of ironic that I'd named the garden long before I even knew I would end up moving to the west. And here I am, on a farm on the river's shore, and our soil here is very, very sandy. Now that we have the first bed turned, we can think about how we will amend the soil.

After the snow melts again that is. It was nice and warm all week, and now we're amidst another big snowfall. We worked a couple hours a day all week to get a good start at establishing the first bed, which is now blanketed in a layer of the white stuff.

Collecting garden tools has been a slow go. All I have so far is the tools I have for work, a shovel and a hard rake. It's amazing what you can accomplish with so little and a lot of motivation. We used a pallet propped on an angle to screen the soil. As we tossed each shovel full of soil at the pallet, the clumps would roll down the slats knocking most of the soil from the grass roots. We could then easily remove the clumps of grass, shake them out and toss them to the side.

It was a long, somewhat tedious process, but every meter of ground we broke into was satisfying. After a few days we could visualize how we would lay out the first bed with our rows. I used my felco snips and a small hand saw to hack back some of the blackberry bramble from the far side of the bed to create a path. We spent the last few moments of daylight each day sitting in our chairs out by the garden to be, watching the sky change colours as the sun sank behind the mountains. What a feeling.


...


I've been trying to finish this post all week. The snow has since melted and we're at it again, building a box for our compost. There's another snowfall warning in the forecast, so we're trying to get done what we can before winter comes back around for it's final blow.

We've been out here for six weeks already. We moved out here when winter was full swing with big dreams for spring. Bit by bit the dreams are becoming our reality. The clocks turn ahead in a little over a week here, which means an extra hour of daylight after work for us to play in the yard.

The weather changes by the moment. When we came outside a couple hours ago it was sunny and warm. The temperature dropped right down and snow is falling up on the hill.


...



We had a thaw and a bit of sun yesterday in between snowfalls, so we grabbed some chicken wire when we went to town. Our landlord saw us out in the yard working, and said the yard looked really nice so far, and gave us the go ahead to start a second bed. We had a bit of an issue there when he said we could do whatever we wanted and then came back around and said we could only dig 8 feet of the far part of the yard. I'm glad he changed his mind.

Since we used our pallet screen to build the compost box, we had to use scraps of wood and the chicken wire to build a new one. We started turning the second bed using the new screen, and though it's taking a little longer, the soil is a lot cleaner. The next step is getting a dump load of compost. Once the snow melts. Again.

misty morning

The coyotes woke us long before sunrise. I could hear the rain playing it's tune on the old chimney hood. It hasn't stopped for a couple days, and it's making quick work of melting all the snow. Soon we will see what we have to work with space wise for building our gardens.

As daylight slowly crept into the valley I took a peek out the window. The clouds are low and the fog is still hanging around. The usually dry creek at the end of the road is nearly flooded, and some of our neighbors have unintentional ponds in their front yards.

I'm starting to get used to the silence and the sounds that echo through it. The view however catches me off guard every morning. I'm not sure how long before it gets old, probably never. And I'm alright with that.

Our house is slowly becoming a home. We adopted two comfy salmon coloured corduroy chairs for the living room from a church store back in town, both for 25 dollars. We have just enough kitchenware to make us a meal, a mattress for a bed, and a brand new washer dryer set. After a few long days without hot water, the tank was finally replaced.

I took one last walk around the house, turning out all the lights, envisioning the future of our space. Friday, to my surprise, we will have the Internet. There's one service provider that just happens to have older lines run out our way, which to me is amazing. It won't be the fastest, but it's something. And now that we know it's possible, we couldn't wait.

As I stepped out the front door I couldn't help but to take another picture. The view across the street took my breath away. Again. We are so blessed to call this place our home.

xo

The first night.

I'm having a hard time sleeping. I mean, what else is new right? Haha. I've lived and camped and slept in a bunch of different environments, and this is going to take some getting used to. The silence is loud somehow. It's so quiet out here that every little sound carries at night.

I jumped out of bed five minutes after getting into it because I thought I heard someone coming through the front door. It was just a strange sound coming from the radiator in the living room. When I opened the bedroom window it squeaked from the cold and not being open in so long, and I could hear the sound echo off the mountains behind us.

One sound I'm kind of glad I can hear is the passing trains in the distance. It's somehow comforting and reminds me of home. I could hear the snow geese honking as they flew over the river in our front yard at sunset. I can hear everything and nothing all at once. It's wonderful.

The night is dark. Actually dark. I can't wait to see the sky on a clear night without the city light pollution. I bet it's beautiful. No street lights on our side of the river. No cars honking, no traffic, no sirens at all hours. The warm smell of wood burning stoves lingers in the crisp winter air.

Our boxes are stacked at random, I have no idea where anything is, and we're sleeping on a mattress on the floor. The water pump doesn't get hooked up till morning, but I don't care. We didn't want to wait one more day. We're here, we're home. Finally. We're safe and warm. And right now in this very moment, that's all that matters.

I'm excited for tomorrow. To begin setting up our space. I'm excited to nest, to spend the rest of winter designing gardens for the spring. I'm stoked to grow, to wander and explore.  I can't wait to walk down my road with my telephoto in hand to shoot epic photos of the eagles that hunt along the river. I'm too occupied dreaming of possibilities to turn my brain off long enough to get some rest. I'll settle in eventually, and this place will become the new 'normal'.. but for now I'm just gonna soak it all in, and enjoy the fresh start. And the view.


Cheers!

Reflect-ions... and moving forward.

The papers are signed, and about a week from now the keys will be in my hand. Though I've been doing everything I can to prepare for this coming move, it's all so suddenly hit me. Not just what's coming, but the entire journey up to this point.. starting on the coast having no idea what I'd do or where I'd end up. Taking life one day at a time has taken me on some incredible journeys, unlike anything I could have planned for if I tried. And I like it.

I'm so glad I kept this blog. Moments are fleeting, and having something to look back on revives the feelings from those moments so that I can better appreciate the triumphs and struggles along the way. It hasn't always been easy.. in fact it probably hasn't ever been easy, but well worth every second, every step. I wouldn't take any of it back. It's hard to believe at times, like it's all been one long-ass crazy dream that I have yet to wake up from.

A house. A home. For real this time. Not just a room in a place, or a couch or a mat on someone's living room floor, not an apartment or a basement suite, not a tent or a truck bed or the back of a van. A real, tiny little house. On farm land, in the mountains, down by the river. Not that I never appreciated any of those other forms of shelter.. this is just.. different. It's still hard to fathom, to imagine my impending reality. I've waited what seems like forever for a chance like this. Even if only for a little while, I will enjoy it thoroughly.

It's pretty well off the grid. We're lucky to have electricity, the only service run out that far. The water is from a well, and there's no sewer. We will have no cable TV, no curbside pickup, no fast food on the corner. I'm stoked and kind of nervous all at once. It's a commitment, to keep a steady income in our unpredictable situation, to keep a reliable vehicle on the road, to one another. We'll be essentially stuck out there together, alone.

I can't wait.

This week I know will fly by fast. We're doing all that we can to prepare, but the biggest thing right now is collecting pay for all the work we've been doing. Contract work only pays when the work is done, and when you're waiting on other contractors to finish their part so you can finish yours, it gets a little nerve racking. It's hard to 'save up' for anything in a place where the cost of living is barely achievable, hence the decision to move somewhere cheaper. We have to get there first.

Next step will be finding a bed, and stocking the cupboards as best we can. Baking goods, rice, canned vegetables and soups will be our first trip, to augment fresh foods we collect along the way. It will be like going back in time almost a century, which in my opinion, is exactly where we belong. Our fishing rods will always be readied for a catch, and acquiring hunting licenses is on the list of to-dos.

The most exciting part for me will be building garden beds. The land owner agreed that I can do as I wish in those regards, as long as what I use is all organic. No problems there! Once the trust is established, I get a key to the gate to watch over the fields. I'll have access to the back end of the farm, to keep an eye on the irrigation and collect some of those sweet blueberries if I please. If this is just a dream, don't bother waking me...

movin' to the country... maybe?

Well, we put a deposit on a tiny home out in the country, down by the river we love to fish. Literally, waterfront property for cheaper than it is to rent a room in downtown Vancouver. It's a decent drive to get out to, but given the general lack of population out in that direction, it actually takes less time to drive to Van than it does from where we are right now. If all goes accordingly, we get the keys in 2 weeks. If not, we have a very tangible representation of what exactly we're looking for in a home, and the sacrifices we're willing to make to have it.

We pulled up to a little white farmhouse on a dead end gravel road out in the country. The sun was setting, the sky was pastel purple and cotton candy pink against the mountains powdered white. Snow geese had congregated on the partially frozen river across the street. There were various bird watchers and photographers pulled off the side of the road to observe them, and the abundance of eagles scouring the river for a meal.

The wind whipped through the valley, blistering cold. As the sun sank back behind the mountains, our smiles grew. This could be our home sweet view. Just imagine what this place would be like in the summer we thought... a dream come true.

How did I even find such a place? By pure chance. I was daydreaming about tiny homes when the apartment hunting topic came up. Neither of us really wanted an apartment. We thought about basement suites to not be in a building, I was even searching for low priced modular homes and if I could swing a down payment. For curiosity sake, I refined my search to farm houses in the valley, and there it was, the only one that was even remotely close enough for us to keep our jobs, yet far enough away to get 'out there'. And cheap. Real cheap.

The posting had been active for 20 days and had a few hundred hits, I thought there's no way it's still available. But I called. The owner answered and rushed me off the phone without mention of it's availability,  and told me to call back later.

I had no expectations after that. When the phone rang I was surprised to say the least. He had a story about the last tenant breaking his trust and that he was being very picky this time around. He had several calls about the house, but didn't like the feeling he had from any of them.

We met yesterday so that I can apply for the place. I'm not sure yet if we will be approved, and I don't want to get too ecstatic until the keys are in hand. But if this house becomes our home, both our lives will be changed.

Thankfully, for this, the coldest winter the west coast has seen in 24 years,  we have been housed in my partner's family trailer. Fully equipped with a decent kitchen, a huge hot water tank, cable TV and the Internet, and a five minute drive to anything we could possibly need. Right in the heart of the city. Shared space with his elders, who often cook us hot meals upon return from a long day of work.

As soon as we get out there, we're on our own. We will have our own kitchen which is a plus, but as of this moment, we have nothing to make use of it. We're starting from scratch. We don't have a stick of furniture to our names, not even a bed.

We will have no huge hot water tank, no internet or cable. Anything we need will require a trip to town. Our cupboards will need to be fully stocked, even our drinking water will need to be supplied from an outside source. It's a good thing we like camping, because besides the roof over our heads, this move will be like camping out full time.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. I don't even know if it's ours yet. But it's nice to dream. Of a simple life at the end of the road where city lights don't spoil the night sky. Where the mountains are our backdrop and the river is our neighbour. Where wildlife is a more common sight than other humans. It'd be nice.

December.

I've written and backspaced the first paragraph of this post probably a dozen times by now. It's hard. That's about all I can say. December is a hard month for many, for so many reasons. And it's almost over, thank the gods. I didn't think I'd make it through without a complete meltdown, but I'm lucky to have understanding friends and family, and a solid partner at my side. Even as the west coast saw it's first actual winter in several years, I managed to keep it together while everyone's world was seemingly ending, under a blanket of ice and snow. Once you get out on the roads, you can really tell who's from the east coast. We spent Christmas day helping push people out of the snow, and taking on mini winter rescue missions while on our fishing trip.

2016 flew by so fast, I didn't have a moment to panic despite how absolutely crazy, turbulent and ever-changing it has been. Pain, joy, loss, celebration. A balance of extremes. Connections and deaths so unexpected. Lessons learned that I wasn't even aware were in the program. I could have never imagined in January where I'd have ended up twelve months later. Sitting on the stairs of an unfinished basement, awaiting further instruction on how to assemble the section of duct I'm working on, with all the required takeoffs spaced appropriately to accommodate the necessary heat runs.. HVAC. Who knew I'd get into sheet metal. Not me..

Then again, most of this year took me by surprise. What else is new, I guess. Life is an adventure. Expect the unexpected, and all that.

Most of last winter was spent living with my good friend and his dog in a pickup truck in the woods. No running water, no cell service, no power but the truck battery, no heat besides the fire. I spent most of the season laid off with the occasional day of gardening, and eventually found a temporary greenhouse job at a hardware store in the city. Nights were long and cold, but thankfully never lonely.

Spring meant more work for me. My friend and I had to part ways so that I could be closer to the city. I set out with my tent, moved my gear into a storage locker, and worked nearly 7 days a week to get caught up. Between two jobs, one of them with horribly long hours, I burnt out after a few quick months. I was lucky enough to find a couch to crash, and find better work before summer rolled around.

Shortly after turning thirty-one, I met someone whose lifestyle inspired me to change my own. I finally acquired a BC driver's license, and swore off working weekends. Weekends are for adventure, for fun, for church, aka nature. I spent every weekend of the spring camping, traveling, venturing out on the water, and making new friends. My connection with that particular individual ended abruptly, and shortly thereafter, I made an unexpected journey home.

One of my closest friends, a brother so to speak, passed away suddenly in late June. The thought of his passing is still difficult to conceive. The journey home stirred my mind and my spirit on so many levels. I nearly stayed. I miss my friends, my family.. [which extends far beyond any blood-line]. Returning west was one of the most difficult decisions I had to make, but I had a feeling the coast wasn't done with me yet. For now the only cure for my anxiety lies up in the mountains, and along these river banks.

I went back to work until it broke me. My partner [who I thankfully met along the way] finally convinced me to stop working a job that was slowly killing me, and instead, work towards my freedom. We bought a vehicle so that I could find my own direction. I found some contract work that I could schedule around my existing life, and rode it out until I found something even better. Trades.

And so begins another new chapter of my life. One completely unlike any other, and I have no idea how it's gonna go. No pre-determined schedules, no guaranteed paychecks, long-term contracts, everything is day-to-day. Just playing it as it comes. This spring the challenge will be to keep steady work rolling in, find an actual place to live, and start planning for the future. Finding a plot to build a garden would be nice, it's been too long.

While I'm at it, I'll take this opportunity to call myself out one last time this year.. with my focus being scattered all over the map [literally], I've completely lost track of my own physical health. Though I have a better grasp of my mental health now than I have in a few years, my body is suffering. I finally managed this past week to ditch the cigarettes, after who knows how many attempts, and the rest of it is to come. No more crap. Don't need any more junk in my trunk, if you know what I'm saying. Time to offload those pounds I found again that I'd once worked so bloody hard to get rid of. Bring it on 2017, I'm ready.


xo

change- the only constant [part.2]

The air was crisp and cool last night, the sweet delicious smell of wood burning stoves warmed my heart. I love autumn. Sweater weather makes me smile.

It's kind of hard to believe just a few weeks ago I was praying for summer to be over, then seemingly overnight my wishes were granted. It took all summer to adjust to the days getting ever hotter, toting liters of water with me to work. The weight of the water was traded in for rain gear.

The weather isn't the only change I'm getting used to. Having my own vehicle is one of the biggest changes of my life. And finally, a winter coming where I don't have to worry about where I'll be sleeping at night. My fella and I were offered a room in his family's modular home until we get back on our feet. Having a warm bed instead of a couch or tent is a sweet treat.

It's been a good few years that I've essentially been living out of a storage locker. This week I finally pulled out my belongings to store inside the house. And to make use of.. my camera gear hasn't seen the light of day in quite some time.

...

Speaking of time, I've been trying to finish this blog post for a few weeks now. I just haven't had time to sit in front of a computer to write. If I'm not working, I'm commuting to/from work, or driving my arse out of the city to camp and [attempt to] catch some fish. Suppose I shouldn't complain, 6 weeks from now I'll have 6 weeks of very little work as the season winds down. Then I have to make some decisions as to what I'll do with myself..

Back in Ontario I never could have imagined myself being a landscaper. The seasons are too harsh, the heat far too unbearable in the summer, and the cold too bitter in winter to spend nights outdoors working the snow removal shift. It's been nearly a solid 14 months I've been pulling it off out here, minus the 3 month hiatus I took at layoff where I tried my hand once again in the retail scene.

I'm beginning to see that perhaps neither scene is fully for me. I love gardening, that's for sure, and I've been doing that for cash a couple days a week since i moved out here. i'd like to keep it up, but I'm exploring other options as well. I'm finally making a decent wage with the commercial landscaping, but the work plus the elements is doing a number on me physically.

...

It's noon on a Saturday, and here I am for the first time in a long time, sitting indoors in my track pants sipping tea and relaxing my bones and joints. I haven't been this full-body sore before without it being caused by some sort of flu. And I know I'm not sick so... something has to change.

A bunch of things really. I've been talking about it for a while, but nothing will change unless I do..

Not that I haven't done it before, change up the things I need to for the benefit of my health.. and I'm running out of excuses. My job has been a big one for me. An excuse not to take fantastic care of myself, and I can definaltely feel the effects. I still smoke, or again rather.. It's hard not to in that industry. It's a good excuse to kind of take a break [or at least do something less impactful for 5 minutes], it's a reward after a tough job done, it's a social moment. And dammit, for whatever reason, I just bloody well enjoy smoking.

And then my diet.. I need calories or carbs or salt on demand in quick to consume formats, and that rarely equals out to anything healthy. Especially since fresh things are hard to keep that way in an ever fluctuating climate. The work truck gets hot when it sits in the sun. And real soggy real quick in the rainy season when she's loaded up with us and our rain soaked gear. The job plus the commute takes up far too much of my day to take a moment to eat properly, or prepare better foods and pack them in such a way to keep them edible until I need them in a day. Plus I gotta carry that sh*t around haha.. I know, I know.. excuses, excuses.

Looking back, at least I made an attempt this year. I let circumstances get the better of me and gave up quick. Here I am again, calling myself out, this time I gotta make it stick. It's about hard work and dedication at first, but after a while healthy lifestyle becomes easier, routine, reflex, even enjoyable, if you let it be. It's always step one that's hardest.

Here we go again, thank goodness for the change of scenery. Next [and most critical] step, my health. Can't take many other steps without that one.


xo