Anyone still there? I know I asked you to bear with me but really, a month is like an eternity in the blogsphere. Sorry about that, folks. It's been a weird and wacky time here on Rowangarth Farm.
I mentioned in my last post that we've been busy trying to figure out how to make a living out here. Well, that was something of a gross understatement. With all the economic scariness going on in the world, both my husband and I lost contracts that we were depending on. Being freelance, we know not to put all our eggs in one basket, but that still doesn't prepare you for what happens when the basket breaks.
I still have some ongoing contracts but times are tough for writers (and a gazillion other professions, I know.) Lucas has been hitting roadblock after roadblock, trying to start his computer consulting/training business and with each passing week, we sink deeper into the red.
We knew that it would be tough starting a new life. And never did we ever feel like we'd made a mistake moving here (okay, maybe once or twice when I was in the depths of 'What are we going to do?')
But what had me all wrapped up in knots for a time was this sinking feeling that if so many people had told us, 'Oh, we'd love to do what you're doing but it's just too hard'...
...maybe they were right.
For a while, I found myself disconnecting from the farm, like I was distancing myself from something that might never be. I became resentful of everyday chores, things like cleaning the barn or tending the wood furnace, because it was taking me away from figuring out how to make a living out here. That, in turn, was taking away from spending time with the kids -- vicious guilt cycle, that.
It became too painful to write about all my plans for this place because I had this deep-rooted fear that what if we can't make this work after all?
But about a week ago, I had something of an epiphany: It's time to leave the pity party.
Here's our reality: We need to find a way to make a living here, and keep at it until something sticks. Yes, we're in a nasty financial spot right now but focusing on that is going to paralyze, not motivate, us. Yes, this uncertainty is tiring and scary and yes, it's hard. Plain and simple. And we can either make the decision to stop or to keep going.
The thought of leaving this place makes me feel physically ill. So what choice do we have?
Only one -- to keep going.
So, we've started working on our present and taking steps towards the future again. Lucas is almost finished putting together his curriculum for his computer courses and next week, he's going to take his spiffy new website on the road and start pounding the pavement for clients.
I've starting pitching articles again and I'm just waiting for my seed orders to come in so I can start my seedlings for this year's veggie garden. I'm even allowing myself to get excited again for all the possibilities we have here.
I always battle some darkness (figuratively and literally) in February but March brings sunshine and longer days. And while these are only first steps, at least we're moving forward instead of standing still. Because really, what good would that do?