worse than a toppled cow

I have this nagging feeling that someone is going to bust me. That I’ll be found out. 

But for this story to make sense, I have to go all the way back. So I will share a true story about myself that hardly anyone knows. 

It happened in Canada before weed was legal, years ago, same time as Weeds aired, ironically. Let’s begin.

I’ve heard that overdoing overdone is a trauma response. Like buying a cow when you only needed a goat, which is a pattern with me. 

Our illegal grow op in the basement was meant to solve our money problem. Our 170-year-old farmhouse on four acres on the escarpment was the problem, basically a money pit. That alone was already more cow than a goat. The weed we were growing would keep up the bills and then some…maybe?

We were in our mid-thirties, just two kids, and almost two decades together. We’d never really planned anything or talked about money. Crisis management just created more crises.

To make more money, we just needed to spend some first. Just a few items to make sure our operation was covert. A simple problem to solve, on top of all the other issues.

First, we had a temperature problem. At the time, the most reliable way of rooting out cannabis drug crimes was heat-sensing through flight detection. No problem there. We would happily solve that by installing a hot tub up on the flat rooftop of the op. Another $5000, bought off Kijiji, no biggie. Adding up the cost of business and the hot tub cover-up, our marijuana grow op was already starting to look like another money suck.

Our debt-free dreams slowly started coming to fruition. My old boss Mimi ran a smoke cafe with well-grown varieties and edible goodies. We deliciously offered both. We secured she was our committed buyer.

But the stream of money we predicted would be an obvious indicator of illegal activity, so again, we needed another cover. To solve the problem on top of the problem on top of the problem.

There was still no money. But we felt obliged to solve our imaginary problem of having the unlimited funds that were sure to result from our grow op. Three pregnant alpacas plus a paddock to house the mamas and babies seemed like the perfect solution to our predestined piles of toppled-cow cashmoney.

The inevitable disaster ended with piles of unprocessed alpaca fibre, and an even more costly divorce, but you are smart and probably predicted that.

Just now, I’d like to be someone else in this awkward silent moment, but I am here to offer myself some extra courage.

I have made some questionable choices in my past.

I’m holding this truth with some gentle care. And now I’m asking you to hold this truth about me too. I’m just a human doing my best, keeping myself accountable and acting with integrity the best way I know.

I’ve had no models of ownership in this way. It might look janky, but I’m finding my way.

Next week I’ll be sharing another vulnerable story.

Recently, I was able to question some of my assumptions about the safety of online coaching. My contribution to safety openly showed up as me bravely observing more of my own icky parts in a podcast interview with Laura Tucker on the Free Your Inner Guru podcast. I’ll share a link next week.

If you want to work toward a forgiving future with me, we can put more big conversations out into the world that would be more trusting of each other and our choices, past, present and future.

Depending on all uncomfortable feelings here, I hope you will be willing to stand, share, heal and grow alongside me.

Creating disasters to remedy fouls has cost me time and time again. I’m now doing what I was called to do: break cycles of generational trauma all the way back in the only way I know how to.

What more could I ask of myself?

Even when it is hard, I will still have me.

Failed at farming, still here for the drugs.

Hugs,