Breaking Free From the Rat Race: My Journey Out of the Matrix

You ever wake up and think, “Is this the life I was promised? Is this what I signed up for?” Because, honey, same. I swear, if I see one more influencer in a flowy dress holding a mason jar with a “Be kind” sticker on it, I’m gonna throw my phone in the blender.

The corruption. The endless grind. The in-your-face capitalist circus that keeps you running in circles—it’s exhausting. So, what did I do?
Did I burn it all down and disappear into the wilderness like I’m auditioning for Legends of the Fall?
Nah. I’m not that dramatic... usually.

What I did was way cooler (and way more sustainable): I decided to take control. I didn’t need to go full hermit, but I did need to stop depending on the Matrix for my survival.
And yes, I’m still very much in the “we’re working on it” phase with our debt. But spoiler alert: that’s the real journey. You don’t just click your heels and land on a fully sustainable homestead. Nope. It’s more like grinding it out like it’s 1999—with a little less “I’m free!” and a lot more “Is it time for wine yet?”

The Real Work Behind Our “Get Out of the Matrix” Plan

Let’s be clear. You’ve seen the photos—people in their garden, the sun glowing, birds chirping, and not a single weed in sight. If you think that’s what real life looks like, I’ve got a bridge to sell you in The Truman Show.

Here’s what actually goes down:
I’m out there swatting mosquitoes that should be illegal, tripping over hoses, cursing like a sailor in front of my garden, and occasionally crying because I didn’t actually watch the YouTube tutorial on how to properly prune that tomato plant. Spoiler alert: you should.

But here’s the thing: I wouldn’t change it. The work, the effort—it’s all part of the magic. It’s what sets me free, and it’s what makes this whole “escaping the rat race” thing worth it. No amount of filtered Instagram content can compare to the satisfaction of knowing you grew your own food and didn’t lose your mind in the process. Well, not much of it, anyway.

And the best part? It’s like assembling your own action movie: You put in the hours, fight through the glitches, and eventually, you get the freedom of a 90s blockbuster ending.

Feeding Ourselves Without the Instagram Filters

Listen, I’m not out here with my hair perfectly styled while I gather my heirloom tomatoes in slow motion. If you want to see that, head to the “how to homestead” Pinterest boards, where everyone’s kitchen is immaculate, their aprons never get dirty, and their chickens probably come with an Instagram following.

Me?
I’m swatting at bugs, tripping over my garden tools, and praying I don’t kill everything I’ve worked so hard to grow. But here’s what’s really going down:

We grow what we can.
We forage what we can.
And when I need more, I hit up my friends and coworkers—because the barter system is so much cooler than waiting in line at Whole Foods. I show up with zucchini, they hand me tomatoes. Boom. It’s like trading cards, but for adults who care more about food than collector’s items.

Our garden is smaller now. Why? Because both of us work full-time, and guess what? Raising tomatoes doesn’t magically happen in your spare time. But the fact that we can can, preserve, and turn those veggies into home-cooked meals that don’t involve a drive-thru? That’s the real flex.

And let’s talk about chili. Is there such a thing as a “small batch” of chili? If you think so, you clearly haven’t cooked chili for a crowd. Chili is the Titanic of meals—huge, impossible to ignore, and you’re either eating it or trying to figure out where it all went. So we can that stuff. And I’m not talking about just a few jars. I’m talking enough chili to feed a small army. Or at least my family on a bad week.

Our Meat Situation, aka How We Avoid Raising 47 Animals

Now let’s talk about meat. Meat. The protein-packed life source that keeps us human. We used to raise chickens and ducks—until the chickens decided they wanted to be full-time divas. And don’t even get me started on ducks. They’re like that one friend who always wants to hang out, but you don’t actually want to hang out because they’re unpredictable and never pay for dinner.

So, we switched things up. We hunt. We fish. We trade with a local rancher for pork and beef. And guess what? It costs about $3,000 to feed our family of carnivores for a year. For that price, we’re eating like royalty—if royalty wore jeans and didn’t have to deal with the paparazzi. We get the best meat, and it’s local, grass-fed, and has zero of that sketchy grocery-store mystery.

No stress. No burnout. Just smart, sustainable choices.

Homemade Everything Because I’m Apparently a 90’s Witchy Herbalist Now

I’m not sure how it happened, but somewhere between watching The Craft for the 100th time and Googling “how to make salve,” I became the DIY queen. Chapstick? I’ve got you. Salves for dry skin? Yep, that’s me too. Homemade cleaning products that actually work and don’t give you an asthma attack? You betcha.

And you know what? I’m not even mad about it. Because let’s face it: I’m saving money, cutting out chemicals, and living the good life with my own homemade body care products. If you’d told me 10 years ago I’d be pouring coconut oil into jars like I was preparing for a natural beauty potion, I would’ve laughed and handed you a bottle of store-bought lotion.

But here I am, thriving in my 90’s witchcraft era, with a handmade pantry full of goodness.

The Secret to Not Losing Your Mind While Building a Semi-Self-Sufficient Life

Here’s the hard truth about homesteading: It’s a mess.
You can’t do it all.
You shouldn’t do it all.
And if you try, you’re basically signing yourself up for a Bridget Jones-style disaster montage where you end up buried under a pile of laundry, broken jars, and regret.

We stopped raising poultry because it was too much.
We downsized the garden when life got busy.
We accept help when it’s offered and trade produce like a 90’s barter queen.
We plan ahead.
We take breaks.
And we know when to throw in the towel and go to bed early.

And that’s the secret to avoiding a total meltdown while still trying to escape the rat race. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be real, and sometimes that means saying “Nope, not today,” and walking away from a half-planted bed and a dirty blender. Life’s too short.

Choosing Freedom, One Messy Step at a Time

No, this life isn’t a Pinterest board of perfect gardens and sunsets.
No, I’m not out here frolicking through the flowers like I’m in 10 Things I Hate About You.
And no, I’m not sharing every 5-minute self-care routine with perfect lighting.

But you know what? It’s ours.
It’s messy.
It’s real.
And piece by piece, season by season, we’re building something that feels like freedom. Not the fake, shiny Instagram freedom. The kind that gives you a pantry full of chili, your hands covered in dirt, and a sense of pride that no one can take away.

If you’re tired of the rat race, you don’t need to quit your job, start raising goats, or become a full-time farm influencer. You just need to start. Small. Messy. And with the sass of someone who grew up watching Thelma & Louise and knowing they would have made it out of that canyon if they had Pinterest.

Wanna Join the (Not-So-Picture-Perfect) Adventure?

If you’re tired of the “Instagram-perfect homesteading” and ready to roll up your sleeves, embrace the chaos, and maybe laugh at the absurdity of it all, hit that subscribe button.

I promise you’ll get real content — no fluff, no filters, just a messy, sustainable journey where things don’t always go according to plan (and that’s okay). From DIY body care to canning mishaps and unglamorous garden moments, this blog is where the magic happens — flannel shirts and all.

So, grab your favorite mug (hopefully full of tea and not regrets), click subscribe, and let’s get real about building a life that actually works — even if it’s a little messy and full of 90s movie references.

Join the chaos. You know you want to.