Anti-Cottagecore: Why your dream farm won’t fix your problems
You may think that quitting your job and starting a farm is the perfect solution to all of your problems. Well, it depends on who you are. I’ve been farming for 6 years now, and let me tell you — it’s no joke. Lots of blood, sweat, tears, calluses, and overdraft fees. The most important thing I’ve learned about farming is how to handle death, how to prepare for it mentally and how to not totally lose my shit when it happens.
When I was 27, my boyfriend died, my close friend died and 2 of my restaurant coworkers committed suicide. I also got a DUI. Things were getting really bad. I started reading self-help articles and staying home to take a bath instead of going out to bars. I started dating better quality men. I met a nice, tall, handsome man who owned some land. We started dating. I made a little garden. He built a chicken coop. I found pigs on Craigslist. And that’s how it started.
I started changing. I got tough. The farm made me toughen the fuck up. Because the pigs didn’t care if I was depressed. They needed their breakfast or they would bust down the gate and ruin my garden. Farming is not a trip to Disney-world and it sucks most of the time.
It becomes a ritual. It’s circular. Life and death are right around the corner waiting to bring you to tears. One day you’re admiring what a good farmer you are. The next day, raccoons are pulling your beloved chickens’ heads off and leaving them as trophies in the nesting boxes. Your 9 pound cha-weenie dog (left over from your city-girl days) gets lured into the woods by coyotes and mauled within earshot. Your dairy goats will get parasites and die. Your tomatoes die. Your adorable piglets will find their way to the slaughterhouse. Your cows run in the road and the police are pissed. Farming is terrifying.
On the other hand, getting to witness rebirth is magical. Your metaphorical cup is dumped and dried after all of the death. Then it gets refilled each spring when the animals are busting out babies left and right. New bird species come to chill at your farm. You’ll make new friends at the farmers market. You’ll start to appreciate the boring status quo days when nothing goes wrong. And you’ll be empowered by all the things you learn how to do. I can skin a pig, drive a tractor, do basic welding (poorly), grow all my own food, herd sheep and butcher chickens. Remember, I was a miserable, hipster bartender just 5 years ago. I’m still prone to melancholy, but I think that’s just who I am. If you can take away anything from this story, don’t expect your little dream farm to fix all of your problems. It will make you a better person, but not in the way you’d expect.
