12/03/2025
Homesteading is often portrayed as this idyllic, wholesome way of life. A peaceful existence filled with the simple joys of tending to animals, harvesting fresh vegetables, and watching the seasons turn in their own natural rhythm. And while thatās true in so many ways, homesteading is also a lot more complicated than it may first appear.
Yes, it's beautiful, but it's also gritty, dirty, and hard work. Every day, I was out there with mud on my boots, sweat on my brow, the ache in my body reminding me that I couldnāt keep up with everything. It's easy to forget, especially when scrolling through Instagram or Pinterest, that creating a self-sufficient lifestyle isnāt something that happens overnight or without significant effort. Itās wildly expensive to start, especially when you're diving in all of a sudden, and there are a million things you need that you never thought you would need.
At the same time, self-sufficiency can be a double-edged sword. While it's empowering to rely on your own hands and land to grow food, raise animals, and provide for your family, it can also quickly slip into a form of escapism. Iāll admit, for me, homesteading became a way to escape the harder battles inside of myself, the ones I wasn't ready to face. It was a beautiful distraction, but at times, a dangerous one. Healing doesnāt happen just because you plant a garden or raise a flock of chickens. You canāt run from your pain by staying busy.
The truth is, no one is going to heal until theyāre ready. Sometimes, we need a swift kick in the ass to make that happen. I sure have taken my licks along the way. I didnāt learn to rest the easy way. Resting wasnāt something that came naturally to me, especially when there were so many things that needed doing. But Iām slowly learning. Iām learning to whisper to myself to slow down, to take a moment, to breathe. This life I love so much doesnāt have to be lived in a rush.
As spring approaches, I watch everyone around me get excited, and I feel that same buzz deep in my bones. Thereās something about the new growth, the warmth returning to the air, that fills me with a sense of possibility. But I also remind myself that good things come slowly. The seasons turn in their own time, and I donāt need to rush through them. Thereās beauty in every stage: the quiet of winter, the promise of spring, the richness of summer, and the harvest of fall.
So, this spring, Iām trying to cherish the moment. To embrace the beauty and the challenge of homesteading, but also to respect the lessons that come with it, the ones that arenāt always about farming or gardening, but about tending to the soul. Thereās a balance, and Iām learning that balance, one slow, steady step at a time. Because when we rush, we miss the magic that comes with taking it all in, slowly, deeply, and with intention.
