Adjusting to the Farm Life

As you can imagine, Jeff and I are getting used to each other this week. It is my first week on the farm since we got married, and considering all of our travel plans got canceled, we have been at the farmhouse without too much distraction.

I have learned some key things so far.

1. A small white dog on a farm that also sleeps in your bed is kind of a hot mess.

2. People who decorate their fake farmhouses with white linens don't actually understand the dirt associated with farms. White things and farms just don't mix well.

3. I love my chickens and they also scare the crap out of me. I am just waiting for one of my roosters to pounce on me when I try to give them food.

4. We should have bought more toilet paper before the world went crazy.

It has also been a swift kick in the pants to join a small farm town during a quarantine. If I thought weekends in Dallas were slow, I was mistaken. I am used to such a fast-paced way of life that I am having to adjust to quiet, to farm chores, to being ok with not being stressed out all of the time.

What a concept! I don't have to stressed all of the time. Weird.

Jeff and I are also having to get used to being together and me being healthy.

It turns out, we were still operating under our mode of operations for when I was in cancer treatment. I hadn't realized this, but except for the last five months, I have been in active treatment for our whole relationship. This meant that I needed a lot of help and care and that I wasn't able to do everything I can normally do.

In other words, Jeff treated me like a strong but fragile princess. He did all of the cooking, he checked on my mental health often, he let me take naps while he cleaned the house. He was hyper-aware of how I was doing at all times and then frantically trying to make it better.

He didn't realize that it was now ok to let me struggle a little bit as I adjust to this new life. 

It turns out that no amount of love or pancakes can fix things for me or make him strong enough to carry me through the depths. Instead, he is learning to simply take my hand and walk through it with me.

I know that one day this will feel like home. I will be settled and my garden will grow and I will find my place in this life that Jeff has cultivated. I know that change is simply a process.

And I know that one day, there will be toilet paper in the stores again.

Can I get an amen? 

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