My job ends tomorrow.
I’ve been on a 5-month contract leading a team, and it all stops tomorrow. There is a certain feeling of loneliness and being lost that comes with something familiar ending.
I am a leader and used to being out front and taking charge. Not having the feedback that comes with that role on a daily basis is something I will definitely miss.
I have made a decision. My next step is to become the person I want to be in my vision of homestead life – to be that person today without waiting for all the pieces to be in place or my path to be clear and obvious.
Instead of jumping into another safe and familiar position, I’ve decided to stretch myself. I am going to live as a full-time homesteader. I’ve been living this way already – but in bits and pieces instead of as a whole intentional lifestyle.
I’m excited. And I’m full of doubts.
Can I actually make this transition into work I love instead of just earning a paycheck? Will my bills get paid on time? What will I do with my time? I have all these things I want to do—but will fear stop me? What if I try and just plain fail?
Technically, I own a foundation repair business. Matthew handles the bidding and supervises the team. I handle the paperwork and bookkeeping. It’s part-time for both of us right now, and the income isn’t always steady.
Bundles will start in earnest in June. I have a few freelance projects lined up for May.
But this… this feels like the real work. The shift is mostly in mindset.
Building our homestead skills. Growing something from that. Building community.
The rest feels like keeping time until it all comes together.
I feel alive when I’m baking, growing things, or working on building something real. It doesn’t feel like work.
I’m physically tired most days—using muscles I didn’t use before. I’m mentally tired too—trying to soak in everything I can as I learn.
If it really takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something, I want those hours to count.
But I also have to remind myself—this isn’t about striving. Slowing down is part of the goal. Making space for life to happen.
Trusting God.
Trusting my body.
Trusting that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.
All I really have to do is show up. Show up and be genuinely interested in living… and living well.
I’m ready to find out what happens when I actually do that. I’m ready to see what I’m capable of when I stop holding myself back.
I know where my strengths are, and I’m ready to put them to the test.
This isn’t a perfect plan.
It’s just a decision to move forward anyway.
And if you’re somewhere in this same space—wondering if you can build something different, something better—you’re not the only one.
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