For the more critical thinkers

I saw this quote a little while ago: Modern luxury is the ability to think clearly, sleep deeply, move slowly, and live quietly in a world designed to prevent all four.

I haven’t been thinking clearly the last few days, the news really stifles that effort and then I made the mistake (of course) of going onto a relative’s comment section trying to debunk some falsehoods only to get completely smashed and there in lies why I also didn’t sleep deeply last night. There’s no reasoning things out with somebody or groups of somebody’s whose brains have been entirely pickled by one sided news. They ask why you’re concerned that a unelected billionaire has access to your Social Security number or the purse strings of massive bill payment systems for things like Medicaid, which your father relies on. They’ll say things like, “well, Politicians have been dipping into this for years and now they’re just exposing it.” Look I’m all for exposing corruptness in any organization or government system, but doing so illegally doesn’t make it look like your intents are well meaning. We should be suspicious and skeptical of very powerful and rich people‘s motives. But I’m not gonna argue with you about it online, that gives them what they want – to see us divided and squabbling over every little thing while they destroy and obfuscate. I do believe that a large part of our population just wants to see the whole Democratic system fall apart. But what goes in place of a democratic system? Have you taken it through to is final vision because it’s what we’re creeping towards, a ruling class of oligarchs who get to make all of the decisions with no consideration for the least of us and believe me when I say we are ALL the least of them. It doesn’t matter your skin color. It doesn’t matter your party affiliation, they do not care about the average American person. If you’re uber rich and white and a man you’re probably fine but the rest of us are pretty screwed and have been sounding the alarms for quite a while. When they say they wanna take America back to when it was great, it was really great for wealthy white men in the 1850s. Today I’m cynical and a little hopeless, but it has allowed the flow of thoughts to come back. I’ve been posting a lot of stories on my business page because business ethics (I think) should be transparent with personal ethics. A business I strongly admire declined to fulfill a beverage order for SpaceX and people like that in my life really bolster my courage to speak up and speak out. I’ve gone months trying to think how to revive this writing space and I start writing things but then think I need to pour my whole life out of what’s been happening last year plus and maybe I’ll get there in little bits. But practices today involve the following: reading a lot more books. It is Black History Month (despite the White House trying to make it go away), so I’m trying to read from a lot of black authors. I’m walking and hiking distances and new ground week after week thanks to a mild winter. I’m stepping up my community involvement efforts around food, and really that is where I have power. We each of the power to affect change on the small scale with the people we live closest to and around and inviting more people to the table rather than dismissing them in a comments section on Facebook.

Movement and Creativity and Seasonal Affective Disorder

Consistency is key. When I start putting my self care routine, (namely two walks per day) to the side, things start to slide. That sciatica I had a few months of reprieve from, starts to rear its ugly symptoms again. My anxious thoughts start to overpower. I feel gloomy, lonely, and hopeless. I’ve reached that part of the year where this rut happens, it’s seasonal depression. I naively thought since it’s been warmer and I’ve been outside more that it wouldn’t hit but no amount of outdoor time can fix it when there’s no UV light and thus no vitamin D to derive from the sun.

I opened the store timing-wise to counteract the feelings of isolation that also naturally happen come winter. We’re all just inside and prone to hibernation mode. Well, we have to eat, so come on by and get some food and conversation to break up the daily monotony, it’s good for all of us! It’s the week of Christmas so I’m baking and making neighbor treats. Having a sourdough crisis in that I can’t seem to get a good rise, so loaf after loaf is a new experiment and little tweaks here and there. If you’ve received a flatish loaf from me, it’s still good, just pop it in the toaster for a bit! Or make it into a stuffing or croutons, we’ve done all of the above with much delight.

This is all to say, this time of year is hard, but also joy filled. Lonely and quiet but also inviting and eye opening. Looking for ways to express gratitude daily. Noticing how I crave color this time of year when all is brown and flat, so when I look up and get a beautiful sunrise or sunset it feels like a gift just for me. Laughing with people but also crying about the pain of it all. We will come to know the vastness of our emotions but will not be slaves to them. I was made by a powerful Creator, and I am a powerful creation. It is within all of us. What we choose to do with is up to us.

Look what a three mile hike outside of town can do to get my writing flowing again. Thanks for reading!

South Star

It’s been 12 years since my mom breathed her last earthly breath. Today felt “off” in a lot of ways and when I finally recognized why I went a lot easier on myself and let my family know too. You can reset the day however many times you need and at any given moment. I’m also going to sleep before 10 on account of the time change so tomorrow me can be ready for the earlier sunrise.

It feels okay to write about what this south star concept means to me now that my dad is in the depths of his dementia and will never read or comprehend these words. This is in no disrespect to either of them I want to make that clear, but theirs was a marriage with a lot of turmoil. It was like two different marriages under one roof. My dad lived in a lot of darkness and depression for the decade after she died and before he got sick. She was the love of his life. Since he got dementia, he still thinks she’s alive, and it really works out better this way for all of us. My mom on the other hand wanted out. She voiced it regularly the last 5 years of her life. She felt stuck and tired and run down from holding up the marriage on her own due to the family disease of alcoholism. My dads raging alcoholism let him live in a fantasy world where everything was perfect, while she lived much of her life in misery – overworking to pay the always late bills, keeping the household afloat, martyring herself to the cause until it literally killed her.

I’ve forgiven them both in so many ways. And the biggest one is using their example as my south star. Whenever there is something out of harmony or reminiscent of my childhood growing up in an alcoholic home I don’t have to go resolve it using that same old beaten path. I can chart a new one and try something different. I can use any number tools that 12 step work has given me. I always have options and people to support me. I don’t have to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results (that’s the definition of insanity).

Don’t like a yelling house? Don’t yell and instead take your anger outside into nature. I screamed at the sky today and my throat still hurts. Don’t like passive aggressive behavior? Stand up to it and call it out for what it is in the moment. Ask for clarification and demand rigorous honesty. Be transparent with your kids about serious topics like money, sex, and addictions. Tell them where you’ve struggled and why. I didn’t get a North Star growing up but that doesn’t mean the next generation has to repeat the same traumas I experienced.

Gosh I miss my mom with such a huge part of my heart, but I wouldn’t have learned nearly all that I have in her absence. Her death pushed me to seek out healthy relationships with so many wonderful lifelong women friends and mentors that I know I wouldn’t have dared seeking out had she not died. I wouldn’t have the life I have today if she was still here, resentful and bitter. She loved a lot of things in her life earth-side, us kids above all else, being a grandma even if only for a short while, God, and even my dad despite his addiction. I don’t know how much she loved herself though, and that is another south star. Loving myself means I have love to offer others without reservation or judgement. She was a good example in modeling a Christ like love and for that I am grateful. Grief can me mixed and messy and this is what that powerful loss means to me 12 years later

A Hard Day

One of the hardest of recent memory. I moved my dad again today, not because I wanted to or even had a choice. His facility in Payson sent an eviction notice a couple weeks ago, apparently they and Medicaid can’t get their $hit together to facilitate payment smoothly. The house manager, Chris had called me repeatedly asking what I could do about it and my answer has consistently been a big ole nothing. I mean I’m doing our part, paying into Medicaid via my dad’s spend down and paying the facility agreed upon lower rent that Medicaid is then supposed to cover the difference. My dad was evicted because he is poor. Plain and simple.

We have a Medicaid case manager that I’ve been in touch with through all of this. She asked me a couple weeks ago coinciding with the eviction notice if I would be willing to move my dad out of Orchard View and into a facility that was easier to work with. I said yes and let her steer. She found the new place, booked a mover, discussed the new agreements and kept me well informed. She also told me that Chris had been verbally abusive to her so she was no longer communicating with him or Orchard View (OV). So I had some trepidation about retrieving my dad from there this morning.

When we got to OV this morning (we being the kids and I thanks to a random Monday off school) there was a palatable feeling of sadness amongst my dad’s care staff. Chris had excuses for his behavior, but I don’t buy it and maybe he’ll sue us but there’s literally nothing I can do to make up for what my dad couldn’t afford to pay while we waited and waited on Medicaid, don’t ever get old with no financial security it’s truly a nightmare and had my dad not had an advocate he’d likely be living on the streets.

Back to the main event though…There was lots of holding hands and comfort and some tears. He really does make an impact once people spend a good measure of time with him. He was also in a great mood, at one point of complete lucidity he said, “Let’s go back to Colorado”. This broke my heart wide open. This man rarely acknowledges that we’re even in a different state when we get him for outings despite all the Utah license plates, the landscape confusion and an interstate he’s unfamiliar with. I think maybe he was anticipating a drive today and maybe the long road trip we took when we first moved him to Utah just over a year ago. This is all conjecture, as his next sentence was, “I loved that song.” So who really knows.

So we get to his new facility with some of his things, still waiting to hear from the movers for his furniture. They’re surprised we’re there and aside from the vacant room are not aware that today was move in day…great. They let us unload and say to wait for Mikayla to come back from lunch. We unload while my dad sits and waits in unfamiliar surroundings, and waiting is just about the worst for him as it begins to get him agitated. I decide to run to the store with him for a few needed items and to break up the waiting. As the kids and I are grabbing our late lunch I get a call from the new facility’s owner asking all the questions and wondering when we planned on moving in. I said we were halfway moved in already and today would be great, in fact you’re our only option at this point. So we hurry back to the new place, meet Mikayla, sign a load of new paperwork, hand over a large check, all with my dad waiting once again, getting up to pace around a few times and having his mood sour further. When it came time for us to leave the movers still hadn’t been in touch, we were running late for a parent teacher conference back home, and dad was coming unraveled. He asked why we had to leave, could he come with me, why did he have to stay there, nobody was going to care for him. All of it and all of the guilt. I made our exit quick instead of lingering since any answer I was giving at this point was only making him more agitated.

The first thing I did when I got back in my car was call the movers, they were indeed still planning on today, their morning job was much longer than originally anticipated. Fortunately their dispatch called me several more times through the evening to let me know their progress. I think things finally got delivered by about 8pm. Good thing dad rarely goes to bed early. Megan, our Medicaid coordinator touched base while I was on my evening walk and I think is genuinely looking out for dad’s best interest. It’s going to be a rough few weeks adjusting to the new place if past experience has anything to teach us. I’m completely emotionally exhausted, am super grateful for my kid’s help with the physical parts, and at a loss for yet another example of a broken system failing us. It shouldn’t be this way. Yet here we are, the hard day is over and we get a new day tomorrow hopefully with far fewer obstacles.

One Year (plus a couple weeks) on the Homestead

I was having all these nostalgic feelings as the one year mark approached from when we moved here, but then we got into business and camping planning so my writing as of late once again has been thwarted. Nevertheless, the date came and went (6/19), so here I am posting in July. You, dear reader, probably didn’t notice and that is absolutely fine.

The biggest thing I’ve noticed here physically is that since we’ve been slowly improving the soil, when it rains we don’t get as many mud puddles or standing water. We’ll keep composting and adding inputs that improve the soil health, we have a fledgling little garden, and I have to keep my expectations low for much production this season. I’ll keep weeding and stay faithful, we’ve heard it could take up to five years to get the land to do what you want it to. Slow and steady is a saying for a reason. Also of note, while we’ve gardened plenty in the past it was always at rented property or on our school’s community garden plot. This is a whole new level starting from scratch, knowing what should go where, companion planting, shade patterns, etc.

We got 15 baby chicks in April and are babysitting a couple of sheep for the summer. Cats or something got into the coop while we were away last week so we are at 13 chickens now. I thought I’d be terrified of them since I’m not a huge fan of any foul but these ladies (and maybe a male or two, too early to tell) are really winning me over. The sheep are mowing our back pasture and there appears to be no more traces of thistle or bindweed, so yay them! Their manure is a great fertilizer as well. No plans for that area yet in terms of growing things but at least the mitigation is helping to clear out the negative so the native plants can thrive. Check out the milkweed!

Hummingbird moth on the milkweed

Indoors, not much has needed alteration. Just your run of the mill repairs and upkeep (today being the swamp cooler, just in time! Spring was good to us but now it’s HOT.) Our biggest projects have been getting water and electricity from the front of the property to the middle so that our two outbuildings can have power and we’ll eventually build a drip irrigation system for the garden so we have the infrastructure up to make that easier when we’re ready. Fence work is an ongoing project as it is for any farm. The big old trees will likely be getting some major trim work in the fall. They are great for their shade but they are Siberian Elms and they drop seeds and branches and ooze some gross liquid constantly. We’ll be pulling up their shoots for the remainder of our or their lives here.

The biggest upcoming news is that we got funding to start The Merc and will be opening a grocery store in the coming month or so. The business plan writing and projecting costs on financial worksheets were a huge mental hurdle and I’m so glad it all came together with help from friends, mentors, the SBDC, our business banker, and the Utah Microloan Program. I can’t wait to get to the physical work of transforming this blank canvas of a storefront into an actual business. Stay tuned for more, and if you’re a local reading this let me know what you’d love to see in this little local store. Think farmer’s market and kitchen staples.

Three years ago we left Denver for a nine month nomad excursion. That trip twisted and turned in so many unknown directions that make up the body of this blog. The first stop on that trip was a visit to our friend’s newly acquired hemp farm in Paonia, Colorado. Three years later we were able to return to their farm for their annual Summer Solstice party. Camping for a week on the western slope of the state we left has given me fresh perspective.

We’ve just returned full circle so to speak from that starting point. Seeing their vision come to fruition in three short years gives me great hope and inspiration for what we can also achieve. We saw their starts and have seen their work pay off in the way of a diverse community and successful business. We didn’t know where we were headed all those years ago, but we have a pretty good idea now. This was also the first camping trip we’d taken in a good long time where we were all actually excited to get back to our regular lives. It was refreshing to get away and is always sweet to see friends, but we are thriving in what we are creating here. Grow where you’re planted.

The Writings of Breanne Mashek

Homesteading, Caregiving, Ramblings, and Travel

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