The Farm
Hey,
I've been carrying a lot of anxiety and existential dread lately, and I've had trouble naming it. I’m under a lot of stress with work, I’m worried about money, I’m worried about surgery in January, I’m worried about COVID and whether my friends will be ok. But this feeling was… something else.
It wasn't until therapy tonight that I realized it was the election.
I haven't been able to name it because I've been pointedly not looking at it. It feels like The Nothing. A sucking void. An event horizon that I can't see past. I have big work things and (socially distanced) holidays and fun stuff at home with L coming up, and none of that feels real because it's all on the other side of Tuesday. Any time I think about it I just feel overwhelmed and scared, and I have too much to do to give in to The Nothing, and so I've been pretending it's this distant thing in the far-off future that I could afford to leave for Future Bridget to deal with.
I can't do that anymore, because it's in five days. And I literally don't know what my life is going to look like this time next week.
The only thing I've been able to latch on to is a possible new job opportunity, and that feels like a dangerous thing to hitch my wagon to because I have no idea what my chances look like. But right now it’s the only thing I can see past the event horizon, so I’m hanging on to it for dear life. And hey, maybe it’ll work out. Right?
I've really struggled with, like. Wanting things? Having hope? Because historically nothing ever works out for me and then at some point I just stopped getting my hopes up. But the past two years have been an ongoing exercise in things working out better than I thought I would. My life is orders of magnitude better now than it was two years ago, and that's despite all the fascism and plague.
After so many years of being afraid to want things in life for fear of never getting them, I’ve had to repeatedly face the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things will work out. It’s frightening, in a way that I’m not quite accustomed to yet.
L and I have talked about the future a lot since I (officially) moved in a year ago, and a recurring theme is The Farm. The specifics change, but it all amounts to getting a house with at least some bit of acreage around it, enough that we could grow some of our own food and, most importantly, have enough space so that anyone in our extended friend circles and chosen family who needed a place to stay could have one. We want to make a safe haven for people who need it-- not least of whom is ourselves.
We've both been struggling a lot lately and we've coped, in part, by talking more about The Farm. (And watching homesteading videos on YouTube.) It's a thing we've held on to when things get bad. It's a thing that feels scary to hope for, not least because it's A. basically what I've wanted my whole adult life and B. closer to actually happening than I ever thought possible. I never dreamed this might actually happen. But there was a time when having a home or stable work or being a girl or finding someone like L felt basically impossible and, well. Here we are.
What if it works out.
So, this is the thing we've been telling each other when things feel overwhelming and scary. Feel free to swap out proper nouns and adapt for your needs.
"One day, he'll be gone. Either deposed or dead or hiding in another country. His power will be broken and the work of cleaning up will begin in earnest. Our family will be as safe and as happy as can be expected. We'll be married. And we'll make it to The Farm. And no matter what— we’re all going to take care of each other. Because we have to."
Whatever your Farm happens to be, please know it's out there waiting for you, and that you'll make it there someday. And no matter what happens— we’re all going to take care of each other.
Because we have to.
Take care,
Bridget