Content Warning: This post includes personal experiences, including loss, food insecurity, and struggles with homesteading challenges. Some descriptions may be difficult to read. Please proceed with care.

It's been a crazy year so far, so today's survival diary June 3, is going to take a look at what has been going on the last few months.

This year has been a rollercoaster, and not the fun kind.

When I look back at everything that’s happened, it’s hard to believe how much life has changed.

Homesteading has always been my safety net—my way of ensuring food security, self-sufficiency, and a sense of control in a chaotic world.

But even with all my years of preparation, this pandemic has tested me in ways I never expected.

Table of Contents

The Coronavirus Pandemic: A Personal Battle

I’ve always been someone who believes in being prepared.

Stocking up on essentials, growing my own food, and making things from scratch have been part of my lifestyle for as long as I can remember.

But no amount of planning could have fully prepared me for the emotional and financial toll this pandemic would take.

When COVID-19 first started making headlines, I had a gut feeling it was going to be bad.

It didn’t take long before it started affecting us directly. Jeffrey, who has asthma, was pulled from work in March for seven weeks.

No job, no unemployment—just a whole lot of uncertainty.

I watched him stress over whether his sick pay would come through, wondering if we’d be able to keep up with bills.

Even now that he’s back at work, it’s not full-time.

His department doesn’t have enough work to keep everyone on, so we’re still playing the waiting game.

For me, the pandemic took a different kind of toll.

I was working on a project evaluating social media posts—essentially determining what was real and what was fearmongering.

At first, I thought I could handle it, but the constant flood of panic, misinformation, and negativity got to me.

My PTSD flared up in ways I hadn’t experienced in years.

Anxiety, depression, sleepless nights—it became too much.

I had to step away, which meant losing my income from that job.

That left me with my blog and my handmade crafts to keep us afloat.

And let me tell you, trying to survive off blogging income in a world where people were more worried about stocking up on canned goods than reading about homesteading tips?

It was terrifying.

Making Homemade Masks: A Labor of Love (and Frustration)

One of the few bright spots in all of this was the sense of community I saw early on.

When masks became hard to find, people started reaching out, asking if I could sew them some.

I didn’t hesitate—I pulled out my fabric stash, set up my embroidery machine, and got to work.

At first, it was beautiful.

People were so grateful.

They donated fabric, elastic, even money to help keep the project going.

Jeffrey and I worked tirelessly, making masks almost around the clock.

It felt good to be doing something helpful during such a dark time.

But as the weeks went on, something changed.

The gratitude faded, replaced by entitlement.

People started making demands—specific colors, patterns, custom fits.

And the donations?

They dried up.

Suddenly, it felt like we owed people these masks, like our time and effort didn’t matter.

That hurt.

I continued to make masks, but I had to set boundaries.

I gave away masks made from whatever materials I had on hand, but if someone wanted something specific, they had to pay.

It wasn’t an easy decision, but after watching people take advantage of our kindness, it was necessary.

Empty Shelves and Harsh Realities

I’ve always believed in keeping a well-stocked pantry.

Not because of paranoia, but because life is unpredictable.

A bad storm, a job loss, a medical emergency, an unexpected death —being prepared just makes sense.

So when the panic buying started, I was thankful for what we already had.

But that didn’t make it any less frustrating to see store shelves stripped bare.

The worst part?

The judgment.

I remember one trip to the store, right before things got bad.

Jeffrey and I picked up two packs of Cottonelle—something I’ve always done to cut down on shopping trips.

A woman actually stopped and lectured us, saying we were part of the problem.

I wanted to tell her that Cottonelle is one of the few brands that doesn’t break me out in a rash.

That I wasn’t hoarding—I was just shopping like I always did.

Now, months later, Cottonelle is nearly impossible to find.

I wonder if she ever thought back to that moment and realized how wrong she was when there were people actually hoarding buying cart after cart full of toilet paper.

Ensuring We Had Food: Community and Creativity

Food security has always been important to me, but this pandemic made it even more urgent.

With grocery prices skyrocketing and availability becoming unpredictable, we had to get creative.

Jeffrey started going to food distributions, and we made a point to share what we received with five other households.

Some of the food—like regular milk—wasn’t useful to us, but we made sure it went to people who needed it.

Seeing how much people relied on these distributions was both heartbreaking and eye-opening.

There were a few silver linings, though.

We got cases of bananas, which I dehydrated and froze.

We got juice oranges, which I squeezed and stored for later.

Every little bit counted.

And of course, we stocked up on essentials at our favorite bulk stores—canning jar lids, 50-pound bags of sugar, wheat berries.

I don’t want to be in a position where I have to rely on empty grocery store shelves.

The Battle for the Garden

Gardening has always been my sanctuary, my way of connecting with the earth and ensuring we have fresh food.

This year, I was more excited than ever.

The garden was thriving—carrots, peas, green beans, lettuce and tomatoes.

Then the groundhogs and deer came.

They didn’t just nibble—they wiped out the garden.

I was devastated.

After all the work, all the hope, seeing it destroyed was crushing.

So now?

We’re at war.

Groundhog or venison stew, anyone?

We’re still pushing forward, though.

The big garden is partially planted with tomatoes, corn, and green beans.

And I’ve ordered a tunnel house for winter growing.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that setbacks don’t mean you stop—they mean you adapt.

Livestock: Securing Our Future

Adding livestock to our homestead has been part of the plan for years, but Jeffrey wasn’t always on board.

This year changed that.

When he saw how quickly things could spiral out of control, he gave me the go-ahead.

We added chickens last year.

This year, we brought in dairy goats.

Having access to fresh milk, eggs, and even meat if necessary gives me peace of mind.

But finding goats?

That was a challenge.

Prices had skyrocketed—because, believe it or not, people were hoarding goats.

We finally got two—one in milk and a young male kid, born on Friday the 13th.

They’ve come with their challenges (two vet visits already), but they’re worth it.

Knowing we have a sustainable food source makes me feel a little less at the mercy of whatever happens next.

Final Thoughts: Why Preparedness Matters

If this year has taught me anything, it’s that being prepared is not overreacting.

It’s not hoarding.

It’s smart.

This pandemic has changed so much, and I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the challenges.

But I feel better knowing that we’re doing everything we can to be ready.

I hope all of you are staying safe and thinking ahead.

Because at the end of the day, it’s better to be prepared than caught with your pants down.

And please—shop responsibly.

There’s enough for everyone if we just take what we need.

Emergency Planning And Preparedness Tips

The Importance Of Taking Survival Preparedness Seriously

Survival preparedness needs to be taken seriously because you never know when a natural disaster or a man-made catastrophe might happen. A disaster can occur when you least expect it, and this is why it is extremely important to be well-prepared before you are caught off-guard.