Something happened. I can't put my finger on when. I think it was maybe five or so years ago… when social media really began barrel down the hill and swept all of us along with it. Before we knew it, we were tumbling around in it like sand in a tidal wave – almost forgetting was life was like to just be settled on the sea floor. Grounded. Quiet.
In that time, bloggers seemed to take one of two paths. The first began to shout, to join in on the fight. The second began to silence themselves, choosing instead to watch the brawl from a safe distance.
Our fun little online world in the time I’ve been a blogger has turned into a bit of a street brawl. In fact, just today, I was verbally assaulted for butchering my old laying hens instead of letting them live our their days on our farm.
Ya’ll. I’m a farmer. I’m not running an animal sanctuary. There are people who do that, and do that well. Good for them.
Here’s the great news for those of you who disagree with any choices we make here on the farm: they don’t affect you.
Here’s the other great news: I’m not going to ask you to do anything in your life the way I think you should do it.
Ya’ll. Let’s stop taking it all so seriously.
I have a blog full of unpublished posts that I self-censored for one reason or another, knowing for certain that some of them would drag me into the street brawl I was so keen to avoid. Vaccines. Discipline. Homeschooling. Sleep training. Circumcision. Raw milk. Butchering. Religion. Election cycles. Music choices. You name it, I've avoided it because I know the wrath of the internet that will come.
But has anyone else just run out of caring?
Not in a hard-heart or non-empathetic type of a way. Just in a I-can’t-manage-the-internet’s-feelings-all-the-time-anymore kind of a way.
I’m not sorry if you don’t want me to butcher my old laying hens. They’re my hens, living on my dime, on my farm. I’ve raised them, cared for them, and will kill them to provide for my family. What about it.
You also are gifted the freedom to raise your own chickens. To pay for them, feed them, care for them, and do whatever you see fit with them.
I want to blog, to write, to share my life on our small homestead here with you all. I want to be able to speak to things that are important to me – and I’ve got no one else to blame but myself for being silent on so much of what I want to share. I’ve taken my thoughts, my feelings, and my choices far too seriously. And I’ve taken your comments too seriously.
Life is hard – so incredibly hard. We need to laugh. We need to share a glass of bubbly and a beautifully roasted chicken. We need to dance silly to our favorite trashy pop songs (Shawn Mendes, I’m looking at you). We need to stop taking ourselves so damn seriously.
The Lord has given us so much to enjoy. Discretion is good. Wisdom is good. Charity is good. But I, for one, am going to take the gloves off and start dancing here on this blog. It may be a bit informal. There may be typos and stream-of-conscience thoughts. I may be figuring things out as I travel along and I will make mistakes about a lot of things. Don't feel the need to correct me.
But I’m a human. And so are you.
So instead of self-censoring myself to death, I’m opening myself up this year to just sharing the journey with you all. Whatever that may be. I’m going to stop all the serious nonsense and fall back in love with the process of growth and the incredible gift that is homesteading.
More cabbage. Less comments.
More flowers. Less drama (man, I wish I could think of an ‘f’ word to put there… frama.)
Okay, that’s all. See? I told you? Free form nonsense. Google’s going to hate this post and I don’t care. We’re talking about growing carrots and making bacon here on this blog – not brain surgery.
Excited to join this new phase with you, my friends.
Shake it all off. Let’s go!