I just can't muster any excitement about anything. I canned 16 quarts and 14 pints of beans; should feel good about that. But I just look at the jars and feel indifferent. Some of them are earmarked for gift giving--my brother used to ask our Grandmother for her home canned beans for Christmas back in high school. (She and Grandpa moved off their acreage the same year he graduated. No canning in the condo where our uncle put them because of Grandpa's advancing Alzheimers). After Grandma passed away just before Christmas of 2012, I wrapped up some of my jars of beans and gave to him. He was ecstatic. So this year, for Christmas, he's gonna get a case of homegrown, home canned beans, just like Grandma used to make.
I've weeded the tomatoes and the peppers in the garden. The tomato plants are loaded with green 'maters, as well as more blossoms, promising a bountiful harvest in August and September. Should feel good about that. But I look out there and only see the weeds sprouting up between the rows of corn that I weeded last week. And the ones in my rows of shelling beans (the beans that will become dry beans for soups this winter).
DD2 got Best of Show on her photography entry at the Fair. Should feel good about that. There is a glimmer of pride, but not the celebratory elation I should feel.
I went down to the horse farm to fly spray all the horses, and do a few other jobs that are on my list this summer (greatly reduced my hours there since mid-June because of all the other stuff I've got going on in my life this summer). Should feel good to be around the horses, especially since I haven't had time to ride in the last month and a half. But I looked around and saw a whole bunch of un-done things at the farm. Honestly, the place looks derelict; not like somewhere I want to be affiliated with. I also saw a horse of mine that is getting too fat, and another getting too skinny. They need different living partners (all the horses live outdoors in the summer, in small groups) but the farm owner isn't open to changing the arrangements she set up in May. I feel more frustration than enjoyment over horse ownership right now. I had wanted them home this summer; last winter DH told me we'd move them home this summer. Here it is mid-summer and there is zero progress toward moving them home. . .
My dryer died. Clothes are all being hung out on the line to dry (normally I don't hang the towels or jeans; takes too long and get too stiff/scratchy before they are dry). We are in a cool and rainy pattern this week, making drying clothes outdoors a juggling act.
My meat birds are about fully grown and ready to go to freezer camp. No one wants to help me with that; and after having my hands so stiff and sore after doing last year's butchering, I'm not feeling like tackling it on my own. To send the birds out will cost me $3.50 a bird, not a lot, but added up, it isn't quite in the budget right now (boy that reunion cost a lot to host!! Expenses were supposed to be split equally between DH and his siblings--the co-hosts--but it didn't quite work out that way. Something about how we have such a nice place and DH has a good job, and the others don't. . . Excuse me, not my fault they make the decisions they make and can't handle money. DH and I shouldn't be punished for being responsible and knowing how to prioritize. . .)
I know I'm currently caught in a spiral of depression. Too many things to keep track off, not enough down time, not enough relaxing time with DH. . . I hate feeling like this. I know it's happening, yet I can't seem to pull myself up and out of it. Other people look at me and say "What's your problem? You got a great life. You don't even work." Which is about the worst thing you can say at a time like this. Kick me in the face, stuff me back down the blackhole, why don't you?
At least, with the rainy weather, the ground has softened up enough that I can harvest my garlic without breaking the stalks off the bulbs. I think I'll head out and do that right now, since it isn't raining at the moment. And maybe later I will go upstairs and do a little sewing; I have a toddler sized sundress to finish up and mail down to K3. Try to come up with a dinner idea that no one will complain about (how I hate spending time prepping and cooking meals just to hear one or more person say "eww, why did you make that?" ever single bleedin' time.)
I think about what if I didn't grow a garden next year? What if I didn't raise any poultry? What if I sold the horses and went out and got a different job, one with a paycheck people could see and appreciate?
No garden: I would have to eat food from the store; which is why I started gardening back in 1998. Don't want to go back to that. I plan to garden until the day I die.
No poultry: see no garden. Had birds since 2003. Don't want to go back to eggs and chicken from the store.
No horses: no reason to live. Seriously. Horses are a large part of who I am inside. There are things I want to do with the horses that I have not been able to do yet, and I'm not ready to give up on that.
A 'real' job that is acceptable in the eyes of others: been there, done that, hated it. I don't do office politics. I also don't do employers who expect my family to come second to my job. Besides, I'm already exposed to both of those enough via DH's career. No thank you. I'd rather live in a box under a bridge (with chickens, and a garden, and a horse, of course!).
Honestly, that is probably just what I need right now to get up and out of this dark pit of despair: a little space, a little privacy, and just the things I have chosen (garden, birds, horses) with none of somebody else's opinions and to-do lists foisted off on me.