Lately This November

Lately, I wake up at 4:50 am and stare at the ceiling. I’ve always been a list person, but that’s not what this is about. Not that I don’t spend time thinking about the things I need to accomplish—I absolutely do. Recently, though, I’m struck with a more existential sleeplessness. Is it hormonal? Blood sugar? An uncontrollable impulse to feel alive? But the answer is really just that it’s a what are you doing with your life and how are you showing up each day sort of awake that I am really not loving.

Because of course I want the kind of life that wakes me with unbridled joy. Maybe not optimism or enthusiasm, not every day (that would be a lot to ask, yes?). I don’t even need consistent ease. I want post its covered in purposeful to dos, notes, and reminders like confetti. But most mornings, I wake with a quiet sense of dread. The kind of oh shit I have to do this again feeling usually reserved for seasonal depression. More recently, I’ve started staring at the ceiling and writing in my head. Words that sometimes make it to my notes app or a lost text message, but never to paper.

So now I sit in my living room, waiting for this old house to warm its chilly bones while I try to get some words down. I’m still up at 6 but feeling better because about a week ago, I finally had a realization. I’m ADHD and ideas usually come to me through a firehose. They’re not always good, they’re never fleshed out, and they often come with an overwhelming desire to DO SOMETHING NOW OMG LET’S GET GOING ALREADY. But this time was different. It was calm. It was measured. It’s that I will start a farm.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this pull. Almost 10 years ago now, my husband and I packed up our life in Miami and moved to an off-grid house in the middle of nowhere. The world was crazy, we wanted quiet, I had that unflinching feminine urge to spin flax. You could call it tradwife adjacent (without the problematic ick), but it was really just a mess. We lived for a few chaotic (but exhilarating) months showering outside, washing our clothes in spring water, and reading by oil lamp. We charged our laptops in the car and had mini breakdowns trying to coax internet from the sky. When we eventually moved to a house over the mountain we were thrilled to have a washing machine and running water, but still no heat. All this to say, the pull of farming is a familiar and welcome force because modern work doesn’t work. At least not for me.

I’ve always enjoyed writing, but I’m a professional writer who’s sad to say it has become a chore. Often, the thing I most dread in the mornings is having to put words on a page. So it’s ironic that I ended up here, typing away on the couch, trying to wrap my mind around what’s next. Maintaining a journaling habit isn’t my strong suit, but there’s so much value in it. My thoughts will be scattered and the SEO will likely be an afterthought nonexistent. But that’s not the point. My only goal is to share my experiences, work through challenges, and celebrate my wins and failures. This journal will be part diary, part farm log, part guide, and largely unedited. My plan for Brandywine is still taking shape, but it’s in good hands. I hope you’ll join me on this journey.

xx
Kiah