It's hard to admit when you've made a mistake, and what you thought was certain... was not. When the ground you've been jumping for joy on crumbles away and leaves you falling. That's why I haven't updated my journal since the last entry, though I've continued to submit artwork.
The big thing that I thought was happening: Zak and I purchased a 52 acre hayfield that was going to be our farm. The reality: the sellers accepted the offer, and then our funding (his family's trust) backed out for reasons I still don't fully understand. For nearly two weeks, I just couldn't stop crying. Every time I thought about it, I'd fall apart again. It wasn't just losing the land. It was accepting what I now have come to terms with as my reality. I cannot be a farmer. Anyone who has followed me knows I've cycled through dreams, and had to give up on each in turn.
I'm 25 now, and working a small fiber farm/CSA in Maine as my full-time job was my last one. I was sure that it had to be attainable. Certainly more attainable than the past attempts. My apprenticeship falling through was a difficult blow to take. I applied to 12 farms, and was rejected by all 12. One of them strung me along for months before finally pulling the plug. Then we found this land. Centrally located to all the major population centers, on a well-maintained road, working hayfield for 80+ years, and the money from hay sold would have paid the mortgage without any additional input from Zak and I. We made plans for over a month. We drafted proposals, crunched numbers, obtained financing from his family's trust, put down earnest money, made an offer, and were accepted. It was ours. We had even looked at modular homes and were getting quotes.
Then suddenly, the trust backed out. A town official said the land was appraised at less than we would be purchasing it for (town appraisal), and since the plan was based on us starting out with equity, we were shot down. Everyone keeps saying not to give up, and I get tired of explaining why. In order for us to buy a farm, it has to: be centrally located, have built-in equity, already be generating enough money through hay sales to pay for itself and the house, be able to sit on the market for over a month while the trust dicks around deciding. That's not possible.
Zak proposed. It's probably the only thing keeping me from totally falling apart, well, that and the supportive dolling community. Call me a weak millennial or whatever you'd like, but I was a good girl and stayed out of trouble specifically so that I could accomplish my dreams. I focused on building productive skills instead of relationships or crimes, totally ignoring the possibility of a social life so that I wouldn't be tempted like my siblings. Then losing dream after dream, finally grasping at one that had to be attainable since the profession is paid peanuts and watching that too slip away... it's more than a punch in the gut; it's a bullet in the head. But the realities of the proposal, too, are starting to set in. We don't really live in a world anymore where a man can work full-time while his wife works part-time and takes care of the home. At least, not and buy a house with some land. I refuse to be caught in the rent trap. I'd rather die, and that's the truth.