I needed a push.

There are those of you that have commented to me- via message or in-person even- that while this blog is interesting, though you aren’t quite sure what my passion is.  Am I a prepper?  A gardener?  A woman in her mid 40s that likes to get down? Oh, my beloveds.

My blog started one day when I was at a crossroad.  My past looked like any other person’s past- some regrets, some accomplishments, some sadness, some joy.  I was at an age where I saw the marketplace devalue us.  We were not the young girls.  We were not the elderly.  We were the “meh”.  We were “mehddle age”.  It seemed to me that the literal decades of experience, the volumes of knowledge, the bloodied knuckles and the hoarse throat- meant nothing.  We were too aged to be coveted, too young to be revered.  We were stuck.  I was stuck.

I decided to flip the “mehddle age” to what it should be- a midlife priceless. If I was forced into a crossroad, I was going to forge my own path forward, not step into the worn dirt road someone else felt I needed to follow.

I focused on sharing what I learned.  The gardening?  It’s an outlet.  It allows me to be productive, like all our ancestors were, gleaning the fruits of the earth planted by my own hands.  It allows me to be creative as I harvest those fruits and prepare them into meals for my family.  It is a place I can walk and be alone in my thoughts and see a new perspective in the wing of a bee, the petal of a flower, the young tomato bursting from the vine.   I share it, because I want others to feel that joy, too.

I stockpile and plan not because I feel the apocolypse is near.  I don’t stay up at night worried about the walking dead- unless you mean the network TV show.  Then yes.  Yes, I do.  I want to know who is going to die at the season premier this fall because I worry that Glen is at the end of his nine lives and it makes me sad.  I digress.  I stockpile, frankly, because it doesn’t take nuclear war or terrorism or zombies for a scenario to become apocalyptic.  A week without clean water becomes an emergency.  A couple of weeks without food becomes an emergency.  A weather event can and does create an emergency- the floods and fire in West Virginia this past week highlight that very clearly as they literally struggle with hell and high water.  I feel that our first responsibility as a citizen of this nation is to prepare for ourselves and our family.  We should not rely on the government to take care of us; rather, we should expect that the government direct its resources to those in the most dire need of assistance.  With proper prep, you can hang on for a while.  Comfortably.  I hope to teach some of that.

Still, though, I found myself stuck at a crossroad.  I won’t share all the details around why or what, but I was there.  And I took baby steps to get on the road, but I still seemed stuck.  Emotionally stuck.  Even arguably scared.

And this morning, I got an unexpected push from an outside force.  What was surprising was my reaction to it.  I was not alarmed.  Or scared.  Or upset.  Or angry.

I was relieved. I felt like a world was off my shoulders and I could move forward carefree and happy.

I am determined to do exactly that.

As I walk around my garden this summer and fall, as I share the bounty with you and warn you of the fact that Winter Is Coming (and that goes beyond Jon Snow) and you should have a plan, I will do all of this with a much happier heart and peaceful mind.

I am moving forward.

I am not stuck.

Life gave me the push I needed.

Humbly yours,

Queenie