Why We Have a Love/Hate Relationship with Failing

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If you’ve gotten this far with us, you know we legitimately have no business farming. (Despite our best efforts, though, we are actually getting better!) We’re committed to researching a lot and trying really hard. This fail better philosophy is both humbling and empowering. It repeatedly puts us in our place and reminds us we don’t have it all figured out. It also allows room for error; if you expect that failure is a likely outcome, it’s not so surprising when you come up against it.

Let’s be real, though. We don’t like failing. It’s uncomfortable and frustrating. It feels like the end of the world pretty much every time, but we try to lean into it because we know it’s good for us. It teaches us and makes us stronger. It prepares us for the next hurdle ahead of us that we may not see coming. We realize when we’re knocked down that it’s easier to see the trees rather than the forest. Indeed, we can usually only see the forest retrospectively.

Exhibit A

I posted a blog literally a week ago (Is a Great Pyrenees Right for You?) about how we were so proud of our dog Samson for his growth as a guardian of our free-range chickens. Can you guess what we woke up to this morning? A dead chicken. And there is absolutely no doubt our boy Samson is responsible.

Our Reaction

How do we respond to this setback? We initially feel deflated. We dabble in impostor syndrome, wondering why we think we have any business raising a livestock guardian dog.

Then we try to learn from the failure by asking questions. Is this our boy’s way of showing us he needs more supervised interaction with the birds? Is this a sign that we shouldn’t add to our flock? Should we put the electric fences back up that divide the chickens from the dog?

SamsonCloseUp.jpg

Disappointing set backs like this happen every day around here. If there’s not a wonky fence post needing to be replaced, then a couple dozen eggs got cracked when somebody tripped, or the carrot seeds aren’t germinating as expected. Aaron and I take turns reassuring each other that we’re following our dream and that hiccups are a part of growth and learning.

And sometimes we don’t have a crystal clear path to fixing the problem. We just keep trying different things and hoping for the best. It’s exhausting and disappointing and rewarding. It’s freaking life.

The Overwhelm

Little fails have a way of adding up to a death of a thousand cuts, right? They make life feel overwhelming. You wonder if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Moving forward feels as sensible as tidying up the Titanic. What’s the point?

When you’ve invested so much of yourself into your dream, it’s really disappointing to stomach road blocks. I know you know, reader, because everybody living on planet Earth in 2020 knows. Today it’s a dead chicken, but who knows what tomorrow holds? And there are only so many dead chickens a person can take. (I apologize if a dead chicken metaphor offends any of you.)

Attempting to Reset Mindset

We are repeatedly reminding ourselves that we’re grateful for our problems. That we get to deal with them together as a team. That they are problems that are completely within our power to overcome. That we learn and grow so much through dealing with them.

But a fail still feels like a sucker punch sometimes.

10 Gallons of Poo in a 5 Gallon Bucket

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Today I realized how my tendency to overload my schedule is impacting us as a family. My drive to fit in raising chickens and growing our biggest ever garden and cooking healthy meals and fitting in exercise and keeping the clothes and dishes clean and adopting a dog and tackling finances and finding time to play music has not only weighed on my shoulders. It’s impacted Aaron as well. My metaphorical bucket has overflowed into his, and that’s not fair.

The endearing thing about my husband is that it took him a while to pinpoint what was bothering him, but when he noticed this was burdening him, he told me. He has this way of confronting me with truths in a delicate, loving way that makes me fall in love with him all over again. (Gross, Mare. Stick to the farming talk.) Sorry.

Anyway, tomorrow we’re driving 3 hours to pick up a Great Pyrenees puppy that will act as a livestock guard dog. Aaron, Olivia, and I are excited to have a pup on the land for different reasons. However, I can’t deny that I’ve given us another chore. Here’s to failing better.