Reflecting on 2022

I know, it’s already the middle of January, and I’m just now talking about my plans for 2023? The thing is, I’m still putting a lot of thought into it. Last year came with several opportunities. Some were successful, and some were absolute failures. I spent many months reflecting on what I want my future to look like, and there were many paths I was traveling that I knew would not lead to where I wanted to end up. Yes, they were still paths I needed to travel to learn some lessons, so that time was not lost. I think that is the trouble with most decisions new business owners face: How do I decide what is serving me short-term or long-term?

I am by no means a “successful” entrepreneur in the traditional form of the phrase, but I will say that the months I spent chewing on the idea of cutting some threads that weighed heavily on my mind allowed me to reflect on what I do consider to be successful. The truth is, none of what I do means anything if it doesn’t help achieve my long-term goals. So, what is it that drove me to begin this venture?

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a farmer. I have pictures my mom had saved over the years of work saved from school saying so. Unfortunately, I grew up in this idea that college and a career dependent on a degree was the best way to be successful. I think a lot of millennials can relate. College Prep high school courses, job fairs that highlighted corporate or medical paths, and guidance counselors that pushed academic excellence over everything else were the major theme of my time in school. Even though I grew up in an agricultural county with many successful farming families, it seemed that career path was blocked for anyone that wasn’t born into it. Now, don’t get me wrong, my experience could be colored by the fact that I didn’t feel I belonged in that world due to my lack of knowledge on the subject, but I did spend all my time working at horse farms or with my own animals to feel connected to what made me genuinely happy. Regardless, I spent years in college working for a degree I only used for less than a year in a job that drained me emotionally before I decided to leave the workforce to raise my first child full time.

My dream lay where I had dropped it until a chapter of our life that led to chickens in our small backyard in a subdivision. I had walked out to my little coop one day and found that amazing prize of the first egg laid by chickens that I had raised from chicks. I still remember the excitement of bringing that egg inside, sharing on social media, and later frying it up in a pan to eat. The taste was rich. In fact, it was so rich, I had such a hard time finishing it. The yolk felt like velvet in my mouth, and I knew that I would never go back to buying eggs again (winter molting times excluded). I know this seems like a tangent, but that egg led to a tickle in the back of my mind. A nudging idea that made me start to question my reliance on others when I am obviously capable of sourcing my own food when I put enough time and energy into my efforts.

I suppose now is also a good place to mention another great love of mine: food. I love cooking intricate meals from different parts of the world. I love making pie crust from scratch, learning to create cheese, experimenting with my own versions of the classics, and watching something so simple as yeast, flour, and water create happiness on my children’s faces. I have cookbooks lining my bookshelves, old magazines stuffed in baskets with the hope that my very organized husband will not toss them in the garbage when I’m not looking, and recipes I have committed to memory to keep my secret ingredients safe. My parents love to tell the story of the time they took me to a sushi bar as a skinny, string bean type of a child. I practically inhaled the first sushi roll placed in front of me by the chef. He seemed concerned for my welfare, so he would continue to create different types of rolls that I would continue to eat as though I had never eaten in my life. He watched in either amazement or horror as I ate everything he placed in front of me. My husband teases me when I tell him of dreams I had the night before of my favorite meals or restaurants, or when I’m watching reruns of Iron Chef, or when I buy another cookbook.

Are you still with me? Are you noticing the themes here? I am a person driven by creating and improving. Animals, food, and family are my greatest joys in my life, and why wouldn’t I choose a career that can involve all three? My daughter has recently taken to the idea of joining me for goat shows, but she has had to help me with evening chores in order to earn her own goat to do so. I cannot describe the pride that fills me when I watch her eager to help and learn. While I love being able to create my own soap, markets and events continued to pull me away from my family and from my farm. It was a thread I needed to cut. Yes, I will still make soap, but not in the same capacity as before. I’ll no longer stress to keep products in stock on a website, but I’ll create enough once every few months to stock stores in the area. I’d like to focus on some other dreams and crafts that allow me to spend more time with my family and allow my children to learn how to become more self-sufficient.

I think the main point I’m trying to make here is this: It is perfectly acceptable to walk away from something you are good at if it is not bringing you joy. The modern world of social media and big corporations has placed this pressure on us to constantly run to achieve more things. More money, more awards, more success. But what does any of that matter if you are not enjoying the process? Are you enjoying your work or your craft, or does it seem more like a chore that you dread to complete? Are you happy? If not, maybe it’s time to let it go. Life is too short and too beautiful to spend all your days trudging through it, and only you can define what "success" means to you.