The Hard Part Is Not Writing, It Is Everything Else

I am learning that healing is not linear, and neither is writing

Last week I wrote a note about throwing strategy out the window.

Sometimes you just have to throw the strategy out the window. I’ve been feeling the signs of burnout creeping in, and it’s a reminder that no amount of planning or content calendars can replace actually looking after yourself.

I was hopeful that a few days off Substack would make me feel refreshed, but the truth is I was not burnt out from writing, I was burnt out from life, more than I cared to admit.

I have been working hard to improve my health and my fitness and my mental health. I have been working hard to find work. I have been working hard to grow this Substack and improve my writing, and I am loving it, most days. I have been working hard at being a mother to two children, at building new friendship circles, at keeping up with family, at finding a rhythm in our new life without the farm. Somewhere in all that, I think I started trying to be perfect, and I pushed too hard.

And underneath it all there is still the pain of losing the farm, losing my passion, losing that everyday connection with animals. There is the ongoing work of closing everything down, selling off what we built, answering legal questions, carrying costs and debts, and dealing with the things that keep coming back around. I am very fortunate that Matt has been carrying so much of the continued legal questions and the enforcement visits, but the toll is still there, and it is still weighing.

With all that in mind, my content slipped away last week, and I feel guilty about it. I feel especially guilty for not posting The Agstacker on Sunday, because that newsletter is not about me, it is about the voices of agriculture, farming, growing, and more on Substack. I wanted to be honest with you that it has felt like I let you down.

So this is my personal I am sorry.

I also want to say this clearly. The Agstacker is coming this week, and it will be full of fantastic farming voices, because they deserve the space and you deserve the read.

This post was meant to be about honesty. Lately I have written a lot about farmer mental health, and today, after the Prime Minister’s comments when he was asked whether he knew farmers wanted to take their own lives because of the inheritance tax changes, it feels even more important to say the quiet part out loud. Sometimes the hardest thing is not the politics, it is the weight people are carrying while they try to keep going.

I always hope that sharing my own experiences might encourage someone else to speak up, or to reach out, or to take a pause before they break. This community really is wonderful, and I know there will be some of you who send supportive messages instantly after reading, people like Anna Leggett, Liz Reitzig and Jackie Bridgen, and many more of you quietly in the background. I may not have met you all, but the genuine connections here have mattered more than I can explain.

My social media brain still tells me to keep pushing because that is the job, but this space is more than a job. It is more than squeezing yourself dry for likes. It is about healing, and taking you along for the ride, through the ups and the downs, and telling the truth even when the truth is that I am tired.

If you are feeling the same, please give yourself permission to pause. And if you need to talk, I hope you will reach out to someone, to a friend, to a professional, to anyone who can hold a little of it with you.

Thank you for being here. Truly.

H x

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