A little about me...

I don't remember why, but at 5 years old

I decided I shouldn't tell anyone that I didn't feel well.

I ended up in the emergency room and hospitalized,

undergoing painful treatment for years.

I blamed myself for getting sick,

then I blamed myself for not telling anyone.

When I was 10, I developed chronic pain that doctors

couldn't figure out, and decided I was "making it up for attention";

my disordered eating started around then. I was lost without even knowing it.

I never liked myself, I thought there was always something

that had to be fixed or improved, and then I'd be okay.

I did everything the hard way, but it taught me a lot

about my own resistance to receiving care...

I don't want you to struggle like I did

Giving ourselves compassion and care is a life-long process

The whole time I made my way in the world,

I was in pain.

My chronic pain flare-ups would knock me out for days.

It affected my ability to work, to attend school, to build my business;

it felt like a constant looming threat, just waiting to strike.

The emotional and physical toll of managing pain is immense.

How do you climb out from under its weight?

I learned slowly, but the lessons were poignant,

I want to share them with you.

As a bodyworker for over a decade,

I have had countless conversations about aches and pains.

We all have them at some point, and what we do with them is important.

Your hard-working body deserves attention, especially when it's crying for help.

It's hard to care about whether your body feels good

when you are just trying to get through every day;

it's hard to eat well, rest is a fantasy, and work is never-ending.

Financial hardship was my baseline for most of my life;

I'd started out living in my car at 18-years-old,

so every meager upgrade I had to chase and work for.

I developed a love for growing food after desperately

planting some things for myself when I struggled to afford groceries.

I planted some seeds and had a meager harvest, but I was hooked.

Every year I had to grow more; in 2015 I was overcome with a desire to learn to farm.

Being new to farming is tough on so many levels - I felt like an idiot most of the time.

Even though the days were hard, I loved the work and couldn't stop.

My massage training came in handy more often than I expected,

and my mentor commented that I might be on to something.

I was just focused on learning to grow things, I wanted to farm.

Then we all spent 2020 just trying to get through it.

My massage practice ground to a halt, but we could keep farming.

The farmers markets were a weekly refuge for people;

that year we worked harder than ever.

We went to market on both Saturday and Sunday,

we were "essential" and we clung to that.

I continued to obsess over farm wellness,

doing interviews for books and podcasts, I showed up

anywhere someone was willing to discuss it with me.

Talking openly about our need for care is necessary,

and feels urgent, now more than ever.

Farming takes a toll on us in every possible way.

To feel good we don't have to be perfect at farming or life.

We just have to ride the waves of success and failure,

tending to our pain, exhaustion, and overwhelm.

We can spend a lot of time wishing things were different,

and still not taking action no matter how much we want to.

It's not something to shame ourselves for,

but we do know that we deserve better.

We may be responsible for ourselves,

but that doesn't mean we don't need help and support.

It's hard to learn new habits, to continue to believe and try

again when we fall into old patterns, and remember to go easy

on ourselves while we strive to improve our lives.

There is no one-size-fits all solution, let's find yours together.