The Invisible Parts of Our Farm: How Multiple Sclerosis Shapes Our Resilience
Social media and influencer culture has shaped the expected aesthetic of the content homesteaders and farmers share with their communities. Cute chickens, vibrant vegetables, and smiling people draw you in. For a second you can dream about a simpler life or relate to the steps you've taken yourself.
We've shared a lot of similar stories and images while introducing ourselves to you, and surrounding ourselves with simple joys and beauty certainly is a large part of our lives. But there is one major invisible string directing our every decision.
About a decade ago, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. You wouldn't know by looking at or talking to me, but my immune system did a decent job attacking my nervous system in my 20s before I was diagnosed and placed on a medication that has since stopped my disease progression. I do a beautiful job hiding that I'm eternally fatigued and my legs feel like I ran a marathon and then you lit them on fire. Partially it's because no matter how much time has passed, I don't want my identity to be replaced by MS, but it's more unknown to others because Sean and I have spent a ridiculous amount of trial and error to ensure our lives allow us to thrive despite the hand we've been dealt.
My diagnosis in 2016 was in many ways our catalyst for wanting to design a more resilient life. When you get life-changing news like that, especially in your 20s, you spiral a bit. Your body, the thing you are supposed to control the most, has revolted against you and any plans you had, and so naturally you grasp at anything that can give you a sense of control. At first, this looked like shaping our pantry to be ultra “healthy” and part of that meant expanding our garden. Over the past decade, my diagnosis has not only given us reason to have hard conversations about our future, but it's given us motivation to build a resilient lifestyle that keeps my current and future health needs in mind.
It may seem irrational or contradictory to have the physical requirements of a farm when one of you is living with MS. Many conversations have led us to think the opposite, and here are some examples why.
Daily movement with purpose. Tending to animals, gardens, and the land gives you gentle, consistent activity that strengthens your body without forcing rigid exercise routines, which helps manage my MS symptoms like spasticity and fatigue. Before we had this farm, I found myself having many days where I barely walked. It's easy to convince yourself to sit all day when every movement is met with resistance. The motivation of the farm inspires me to be active.
Built-in therapy through nature. Living with a chronic disease is emotional. Not just the uncertainty but the daily management of your symptoms and all your disease has stolen from you. Being surrounded by open space, fresh air, and our animals offers a grounding calm that supports mental well-being and helps me cope with my reality.
Independence and adaptability. During the first few years following my diagnosis, I lost a lot of my self-confidence. Not in a shallow way, but rather in my confidence that I was going to be capable of doing things that I wanted to do in this life. I’m a realist and don't prescribe to toxic positivity, meaning I am very well aware of my limitations because of my MS symptoms, and I've had to give up aspirations and hobbies I once had. That said, when I find an alternative way to solve a problem and maintain my independence, it gives me confidence that we will figure out a way to live a fulfilled life on this farm no matter what.
Financial flexibility. We made a lot of financial and societal sacrifices to live this life. A topic Sean shares in his book Exit Farming: Starving the Systems that Farm You. As a result, we no longer need high paying, high stress jobs that absolutely do not align to my health needs. The physical toll farming has on the body cannot compete with the exhaustion of corporate hell. Our decision to build this farm gave us control over how we make money and spend our time.
Our farm is not just about food, animals, or pretty snapshots. It’s about building a life that allows us to thrive despite our challenges. MS may be an invisible part of our story, but it’s also the reason we’ve learned to create systems that sustain us, to embrace slower rhythms, and to measure success differently than the world might expect.
Resilience for us doesn’t mean pushing through at all costs. It means shaping a life where both of us, with all our strengths and limitations, can thrive. This farm isn’t a stage for perfection; it’s our reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, we can spark joy, meaning, and self-reliance. And that, more than anything, is the invisible harvest we’re most grateful for.