Last year, we were looking at the farm during this time. Our boots crunching over leaves and wading through knee high grass & sneaking around the barn & dreaming of what all of this could be. It was magical, I could see every bit of what it could become.
Two nights ago I cried myself to sleep about this place. About how damn overwhelming it is, how the barn needs half a million dollars to be something special, about how I wish we had just built our barn, about how nothing will ever be finished. This is a common theme both on this blog & in real life for me. I am soaring on cloud 9 for weeks about this life-altering project, and then in my weakest most vulnerable moments, I can admit there are rare hour-long periods where I hate it. I hate that it takes up literally all of our time. I hate that we are financially responsible and won't just start slapping stuff on credit cards to make it all happen. I hate that its slow. I hate that a stupid racoon is living in the barn still and thats my barn, not his. I hate that the flower studio leaks. I hate that I cannot for the life of me learn how to properly backup the tractor when it has the single axle trailer on it, and so I hate that I have to wait for Matt to come home and rely on a man to do some stupid project that I can do. I hate that all this stuff was left here, for us to take care of. I hate that Matt and I go around and around on the same discussions about the same projects and which way makes the most sense to tackle them on the list.
I thought twice about even publishing this blog. Its vulnerable & hella off course for me most days. But its real. And I am so committed to sharing the really ugly parts of this journey too. I know I'll lose a subscriber or follower because this isn't rose colored glasses & butterflies. But I would rather lose a follower than lie to someone that this is all really fun and really perfect.
But then, like clouds on a crisp fall day, the cloud passes, the 'hate cloud' and I am reminded of a lot of things. The barn doesn't need half a million dollars to be something special, it will be something special each stage of the process, even at its most rustic. I am the world's most impatient person, truly, so the fact that this is slow is a real learning moment for me. Cash rolling all of these projects is what will allow us to actually make money one day, and not be swimming in mountains of home depot credit card debt. The raccoon, he doesn't know any bett- okay actually I still really do hate him. The flower studio leaks. Its water. Flowers love water. This is my second season of flowering weddings, calm your ass down Kalin. And while yes, I do have to wait for Matt to come home to backup the badass tractor that I negotiated and bought and test drove and drive around like an absolute boss most days its okay because Matt loves helping me. And the dumpster arrives TODAY! The giant one, the biggest one on earth, the largest dumpster you can actually order, and it's going to be fabulous, and no mean dumpster bully is going to come and take it away from me (still gotta work on that blog, holy smokes that will be a long one.) And going round and round on discussions is marriage. He sees it one way. I see it another way. And we work that out. We compromise. Dude, that stuff they tell you during the vow part about seeing one another's faults and compromising and not agreeing and being patient and communicating----yeah---listen real close to that part my friends.
This project, this place, has tested me in ways I never imagined. I can honestly say here that I have never been so tired. But never, been in a more stripped down & real place in my creativity. It's like the madness of it all has brought forth a part of my brain that I had never tapped into. crazy.
And then, in the hour long 'hate fests' someone pulls in the driveway. They slam a car door and meander up to the barn, where I am de-budding lavender, flowering, cleaning piles of crap up, you name it- and they exclaim, "wow this place is special." And I'm reminded that it is. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.