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Homesteading as Heritage: Building a Life of My Own

🌿 Homesteading as Heritage: Building a Life of My Own This morning after finishing my chores, I sat down and watched a reel a friend had shared. It was of Mexican dancers moving gracefully in front of a beautiful cathedral. While I recognized the beauty of what I was seeing, what I felt inside was sadness. Those dancers had a strong heritage to hold onto — something alive, communal, passed down and celebrated together. I’ve often wished for that. Being raised in a mixed-race family where little importance was placed on either culture, I’ve felt the absence of inherited traditions. And I know my parents carried that same distance from their own upbringing. I can understand the history, the reasons why, but I still wish the choices had been different. For a long time, that left me with the question: what do I belong to? Where do I root myself? The identity I lean into most right now is homesteader. And strangely, it feels like a calling. Being a beginner at it makes the connection feel even more organic, like I’m building something alive from scratch. My training as a chef weaves into this too — not the high-stress, cut-throat version you see on TV, but an intentional, slower rhythm of cooking. Learning the language and skill of the kitchen has given me a foundation I can now translate into tending my land and feeding my family. For me, homesteading is more than growing food or raising animals — it’s creating a heritage where none was given, and shaping a life where pace and purpose coexist. Living with AuDHD adds another layer. My thoughts move in tangled threads, an organized chaos. Following one idea often requires me to touch several others along the way. Sometimes it feels like climbing the hardest side of a mountain, only to find an easy footpath on the way back down. The struggle to untangle the knots helps me see the terrain differently, even if it takes longer to get there. That’s how I move through my days: circling, revisiting, trying again — and in the end, finding clarity in the struggle. In all of this, I see a pattern: heritage, homesteading, and my own neurodivergent way of thinking are not separate threads but parts of the same weave. I may not have inherited traditions in the way I once wished, but I’m learning to create them — through food, through the garden, through the rhythm of tending this life. Here’s to growing something rooted, something lasting, and something wholly mine. 🌱 — Kim

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