Anticipation is a weird thing. When you sit at a point right before something new begins, it sits in an awkward and askew way in my body. Anything could happen.


Really good stuff could happen, or you could get caught in more of the same drudgery under a different name. Anticipation doesn’t feel warm and exciting to me it sits in me like a Doritos chip that was not eaten but inhaled.  I want it to move down so I can continue eating Doritos.

Tomorrow morning I start my Organic Farmer Training Program at Michigan State University (my undergrad Alma Mater). At the end of last year I applied for a scholarship for the program and received a large one which makes it possible for me to join this program. As I sitanticipating what it will be like a million thoughts run through my head.

Maybe I’ll learn a ton and I’ll be like this cool hip micro farmer helping to bring fresh food to women who are victims of Domestic Violence (this is my best case scenario and why I applied.) Maybe I’m in over my head and I’ll spend 9 months looking like the shrug emoji.

I want to help other women like me. When leaving an abusive and violent relationship you can’t tell which way is up much less remember to buy groceries and make yourself a descent meal. Nourishing your body is so far from a priority. Hell, most of the time you are struggling financially (almost two years out and I still have nothing), so worrying about buying good healthy food isn’t going to happen. Also, I need to create my own path. No one is going to provide me one here in Michigan. Whenever I tell people I’m looking for work they laugh at me and wish me luck without offering any kind of help. y’know? It’s Michigan they say. I shouldn’t have moved back. I shouldn’t want to help. Michigan is past saving. They laugh that I would think I could move back and be a part of where my family has lived for a 100 years.

The other thing people laugh at me about is wanting to make friends. I have moved into my Mid-30s. I live in poverty, I’m single, no kids, and don’t have a career. Friendships aren’t available for people in my demographic. We’re allowed a pet that we obsessively love and that is all the more we are to expect from here on out.

I don’t fit in or have an ease in which to connect with people. I have lived all over the world and never worried about making friends, because, well, I like people. Friendships have not traditionally been difficult for me. Ever since my attack I have struggled to connect with people, often finding myself isolated and alone even when I’m in a crowd. I even struggle to message back old friends that I know get that I’m kinda odd and aloof. I don’t want to bother them by responding to their text asking how I’m doing.

The day before I start my OFTP (Organic Farmer Training Program) I can tell myself I’ll finally make some friends in Michigan. I’ll connect with people and we have similar goals so we can support each other as we go after these goals in our different corners of the state.

Then I remember…

I remember I’m a polarizing person. People’s response to me tends to fall into two categories. The first:

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssss. This be-yotch SAYS WHATEVER IS ON HER MINDuuhhhh!!!

the other is:

yes. This BITCH says whatever is on her mind….

I’m aware of this. I might make some really good friends, friends that if I’m perfectly honest I really need at this point. Or I could make a bunch of enemies who can’t believe they have to learn about tomatoes with someone like me.

That’s why I have this lodged Doritos of anticipation in my throat.

Maybe I’ll be a great student and take to it naturally, but I don’t even understand my book about Soil. I genuinely didn’t give a shit in chemistry and 17 years later its finally catching up with me.

Maybe I’ll make some life long friends, or maybe I’ll be a weirdo eating cheese sandwiches in a corner by myself.


Anything can happen.

I’ll eventually be able to look back and tell you what happened. As for now. Well,as for now your guess is as good as mine.



Leo checking out my Vermicompost with me.
Leo checking out my broccoli sprouts– earning farm dog cred.  
Soul of Soil was assigned to us. It was too difficult for me so I went and checked out this simplified book about soil from the library. 
I forever have a slight smell of bag balm about me.