Welcome to Survival Diary The Story, a raw and honest look at the struggles, the resilience, and the journey that shaped me into the person I am today.
Some people dream of a quiet life in the country—a little slice of land, fresh air, a slower pace.
They picture morning coffee on the porch, the sound of birdsong, and vegetables growing in neat, weed-free rows.
That’s not the reality.
At least, not mine.
Homesteading is messy.
It’s unpredictable.
It’s exhausting.
And sometimes, it’s painfully lonely.
This Survival Diary series isn’t just about the homestead itself—it’s about what it takes to keep going.
To push through setbacks, to navigate the unexpected, to balance responsibility with exhaustion, and to face the kind of isolation that creeps in even when there are people around.
What Does It Really Mean to "Survive"?
Survival, for me, is a mix of physical and emotional endurance.
It’s facing a long to-do list with limited time, energy, and resources.
It’s stretching every dollar, finding creative solutions, and working through the constant unexpected—like a mailman who refuses to deliver because he’s afraid of my dog, or weeds growing faster than I can cut them, or the weight of another 12-hour workday keeping Jeff away when I need him most.
It’s also a mental battle.
I’m used to being alone.
In many ways, I prefer it.
But some days, the silence isn’t peaceful—it’s heavy.
And on those days, it’s harder to ignore the feeling that I’m carrying too much on my own.
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Maybe you’re out there right now, struggling with your own version of survival—balancing bills, responsibilities, exhaustion, and the feeling that no one truly sees what you’re going through.
Maybe you’re dealing with people who only see what’s undone, not what you’ve accomplished.
Maybe you’re doing your best, but your best never feels like enough.
If any of that resonates with you, you’re in the right place.
This Is My Story
I wasn’t supposed to survive.
Not the childhood that broke me.
Not the hunger that consumed me.
Not the betrayals, the abuse, the losses that took more than I thought I had to give.
And yet, here I am.
Still standing.
Still fighting.
Still pushing forward, not because it’s easy, but because I refuse to let my past define my future.
But to understand who I am, you have to understand where I’ve been.
A Childhood of Never Being Enough
I grew up in a house where perfection was expected, but never enough.
If I got a 100% on a paper, I was told I should have asked for extra credit to get 120%—or better yet, 150%.
If I brought home anything less than an A+, I wasn’t just scolded, I was punished.
Larry, my step-dad, made sure of that.
He had his ways.
The leather belt was bad enough, but when he really wanted to make a point, he’d reach for the 2x4 with holes drilled into it—holes that made sure the wood cut deeper and stung longer.
Some nights, he had a ritual.
He’d strip me down, put me in a bathtub full of ice-cold water, and leave me there, shaking and exposed.
Then, when I was at my weakest, he’d make me stand up and take my beating.
I can still remember the way the cold seeped into my bones, the way my skin burned from the hits, the way my mind tried to escape when my body couldn’t.
But you don’t escape things like that.
You survive them.
The Hunger That Never Left Me
In our house, adults ate first.
If there was food left over, I could have some.
If not, too bad.
I can still remember watching them eat, my stomach aching, my mouth watering, my mind racing with ways to find food.
I learned to eat some of my hamster food, or steal bread late at night when no one was looking.
I learned which foods lasted longer in my belly.
I learned how to ignore hunger until it became normal.
It wasn’t just about being hungry—it was about power.
They controlled everything, including whether or not I got to eat.
That’s why Plant-A-Row for the Hungry means so much to me now.
Because I know what it feels like to go without.
I know what it’s like to wake up with nothing and go to bed with even less.
I know what it’s like to see food and know it’s not yours.
And I know that no child—no human being—should ever have to feel that kind of helplessness.
Being part of Plant-A-Row for the Hungry allows me to be part of a movement where people grow food, donate it to their local soup kitchen or food pantry and my hope is that no one goes hungry because there is food to be had for just asking.
Maybe that’s why I homestead the way I do.
Why I grow food.
Why I preserve every last bit.
Because I never, ever want to feel that powerless again.
The Ultimate Betrayal
As if the abuse wasn’t enough, life had more in store for me.
My mother told me on my 18th birthday she had done her job, I was an adult now and she wanted me out of her house.
I was homeless and ended up living with strangers who were foster parents and helped me get my own apartment.
Then I was raped.
And I got pregnant with my oldest daughter.
I was just 19 myself when she was born, trying to figure out how to be a mother when my own had failed me so deeply.
Then, I married a man who turned out to be just as abusive.
I thought I was escaping one nightmare, only to walk into another.
He was controlling.
Manipulative.
Violent.
I was trapped—again.
But this time, I had children to protect.
When I finally found the strength to leave him, I had four children: 2 girls 18 months apart and twin boys who were less than six months old.
I thought things would get better.
But that’s when the real nightmare began.
The judge took my children during the divorce proceedings and put them in foster care.
My mother and Larry, the very people who had hurt me the most, undermined me at every turn.
They fed lies and accusations into the system, making sure that no matter how many hoops I jumped through—two sets of parenting classes, endless court battles, doing everything they asked of me—it was never enough.
Of course, they had help from my ex-husband and people I thought were friends that were nothing more than backstabbers.
They painted me as something I wasn’t.
They took everything from me.
And the courts believed them.
Then, just like that, my parental rights were terminated.
My babies were gone.
I fought.
God, I fought.
But the system didn’t care.
I lost everything.
I lost them.
The Woman I Became
That loss could have destroyed me.
Maybe, in some ways, it did.
But I am still here.
Because I don’t know how to quit.
I have spent my life surviving.
Fighting.
Clawing my way forward, even when the world tried to break me.
That’s why I homestead.
That’s why I grow my own food.
That’s why I work harder than I should.
Why I take on impossible projects.
Why I push myself past exhaustion.
Because I refuse to be powerless ever again.
This is my story.
This is why I fight.
And if you’re still reading this, you are not alone.
Love, Loss, and Trying to Rebuild
Through everything, if there’s one thing I’ve never stopped doing, it’s loving my children.
I have a wonderful relationship with my oldest daughter, and I treasure that deeply.
She is proof that love and connection can survive even the worst storms.
She has wonderful children, my grandchildren, whom I love and adore.
She is a great mother.
My two sons—I’m trying to rebuild something with them.
It’s not easy, and the past is full of hurt, but I won’t stop trying.
They deserve to know that no matter what has happened, I have always loved them.
My other daughter… she reminds me of my mother because her behavior matches.
But even through the chaos, I have tried.
I have reached out, I have fought for a relationship.
And maybe one day, things will be different.
Maybe one day, she’ll see that I never stopped loving her either.
And then there are the snakes—the people who thrive on lies, manipulation, and tearing others down.
They still exist in all of our lives, whispering in the background, stirring the pot.
But one by one, we are weeding them out.
Because we all deserve better than the poison they spread.
At the end of the day, my love for my children has never wavered.
No matter how much distance, time, or hurt stands between us, that love remains.
I just hope that one day, they will all see that.
The Weight of Loss and the Shadow of Guilt
Even with all I have survived, life can change in an instant.
I learned that lesson when I lost my kids, but it was one I learned again later in life.
One moment, you’re making plans for the future, and the next, everything you thought was certain is gone.
Jerry and I were building a life together, dreaming of what was to come—until everything stopped.
A Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis came out of nowhere, and in the span of just four weeks, I went from planning our future to making the hard choice to take him off life support.
Four weeks.
That’s all it took for my world to shatter.
Even though I remarried quickly, it wasn’t because I stopped loving Jerry or because I was “over it.”
You don’t just get over a loss like that.
I knew I had to keep going, and Jeffrey was there when I needed someone the most.
I don’t regret remarrying—I’m grateful.
But even now, in 2025, grief still lingers.
Some days, it’s quiet.
Other days, it sneaks up on me when I least expect it.
And then there’s the guilt.
The summer before Jerry died, I was a caregiver for my stepfather, Larry, in his final days.
The same man who had locked Jerry and me out of our own home just months earlier, and had treated me cruel as a child, but I felt like I had to take care of him because he gave me a home as a child, clothes to wear, and even though it was often little, food.
I was focused on Larry, knowing he was dying—so focused that I didn’t see the signs with Jerry.
Maybe if I had, we could have caught the cancer earlier.
Maybe he would have had a chance.
Maybe things would have been different.
Larry died less than a week before Jerry.
Two deaths, one after the other.
I didn’t have time to process one before I was drowning in the next.
And while I did what I thought was right at the time, the weight of those choices still follows me.
Grief doesn’t just disappear.
It changes shape, but it never really leaves.
The Weight of Rumors and Lies
And even when people are gone, their damage doesn’t just disappear.
Sometimes, the snakes aren’t even in my life anymore, but their venom lingers.
The whispers, the gossip, the half-truths twisted into outright lies—they still follow me.
I don’t know how to stop it.
How do you fight shadows?
How do you make people see the truth when they’ve already decided on the version of the story they like best?
People love to talk.
They love a scandal, a juicy piece of gossip.
But what they don’t think about is the damage they cause.
A lie, a rumor—true or not—can destroy a life.
It can destroy families, friendships, reputations.
It has destroyed mine before.
And no matter how much time passes, the echoes of those lies still creep into my world.
I wish people would stop and think before they spread things they don’t understand.
Before they assume.
Before they judge.
Because at the end of the day, words can be as cruel as a blade.
And the scars they leave don’t always fade, even when your wounds heal.
Why I’m Sharing This Now
For years, I’ve worked on building this homestead, slowly making progress, fighting setbacks, and pushing forward one project at a time.
And while I’ve shared bits and pieces, I’ve never really pulled back the curtain to show what it all looks like behind the scenes.
The good days.
The bad days.
The victories.
The failures.
The moments of joy when something finally comes together.
The gut-punch exhaustion of feeling like nothing ever will.
That’s what my Survival Diaries are all about.
They aren't just a homestead diary—they are a raw, honest look at what it takes to keep going.
To manage life when things don’t go according to plan.
To find hope even on the hardest days.
But I want to be clear—this isn’t about pointing fingers or placing blame.
I’m not here to dwell on the past in bitterness or anger.
I’m sharing this because it matters.
Because everything I’ve lived through—the struggles, the heartbreak, the moments that nearly broke me—have shaped who I am today.
And I know I’m not the only one fighting to survive.
If you’re here for the polished version of country life, you won’t find it.
If you want the truth—the messy, beautiful, frustrating, rewarding truth—then stick around.
This is survival.
This is my story.
And maybe, in some way, it’s yours too.
What are you struggling with in your own life right now?
What does survival look like for you?
What Keeps Me Going
I honestly don’t know how I’ve kept going through everything.
Maybe it’s hope.
Maybe it’s faith.
Maybe it’s just the trust that God put me here for a reason, and my reason isn’t done yet.
Life has knocked me down more times than I can count, but I always find a way to get back up.
Not because I have to, but because something inside me refuses to stay down.
Maybe it’s stubbornness.
Maybe it’s survival instinct.
Maybe it’s just knowing that giving up was never an option.
I find joy in the little things.
The things most people overlook.
Flowers blooming in the morning sun.
The scent of honeysuckle and mock orange drifting through the air.
And my animals—oh, they remind me daily why I keep pushing forward.
Yesterday, I fed our pigs, Hammie and Ivan fresh strawberries.
They took each berry so gently from my hand, savoring each bite, then smacked their lips as if to tell me just how good it was before reaching for the next one.
Those moments—where life slows down just enough for me to appreciate it—those are what keep me going.
Eating food I’ve grown or raised with my own hands is another kind of victory.
It’s more than just a meal—it’s proof that I’m still here, still fighting, still capable of creating something good.
There’s something deeply satisfying about tasting the fruits of my labor, knowing every bite was worth the struggle.
A Message for Others Who Struggle
If you’re struggling right now, if life feels impossible, if you feel like you can’t take one more hit—hang in there.
It does get better.
Maybe not right away, maybe not in the way you expect, but life has a way of balancing itself out.
The road is never easy.
It’s full of ups and downs, victories and losses, moments that make you want to scream and moments that make you believe again.
I won’t pretend to have all the answers, but I know this—if you keep moving forward, one step at a time, you will get through it.
You are stronger than you think.
What Comes Next?
I don’t just want to survive—I want to heal.
I want to help others.
That’s why I’m sharing my story.
Not for sympathy, not to dwell on the past, but because I know I’m not the only one who has been through hell and come out the other side still standing.
Maybe by sharing my story, someone else will feel less alone.
Maybe they’ll see that no matter how broken things seem, life isn’t over.
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this—there is always a reason to keep going.
So if you’re here, reading this, and wondering if you can keep pushing forward, the answer is yes.
You can.
And I’ll be right here, sharing my journey, figuring it out one day at a time, just like you.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary January 15
This is the behind the scenes survival diary January 15. Learn about what is going on at our homestead, what has changed and what the future holds.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary February 5
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Behind The Scenes Survival Diary May 29
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Behind The Scenes Survival Diary May 30
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Behind The Scenes Survival Diary May 31
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Behind The Scenes Survival Diary June 3
Our survival diary June 3 edition talks about what has been happening over the past few months with the Coronavirus, the hoarding and more.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary June 9
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for June 9. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary June 12
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for June 12. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary June 15
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for June 15. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary July 25
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for July 25. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary August 23
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for August 23. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary August 24
Today's survival diary is about how Covid-19 has put a damper on our lifestyle, caused shortages and ultimately affected our mental health.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary October 9
Welcome to the Experimental Homesteader homestead survival diary for October 9. This is where I share tidbits of what life on a homestead is really like.
Behind The Scenes Survival Diary October 10
This is the behind the scenes survival diary October 10. Learn about what is going on at our homestead, what has changed and what the future holds.