Death of a Vision
In all honesty, my life was a mess at that point (fall 2019). I was juggling two to three regular part time jobs, plus two more odd jobs, in addition to a weekly 60-80 miles round trip food waste pickup route, which took at least 4-5 hours, not including unloading the 55 gallon barrels once I got back home. Then, on Saturdays, I’d spend 8-10 hours at events, setting up, sorting through the ‘trash' in the waste stations, talking to customers, taking down the signs, loading up the bags of food waste and 5 cent returnables, then returning home exhausted. There were days when I had hours of free time, but instead of taking care of the barrels of food waste, I’d lay in bed overwhelmed and unable to move. I battled depression, for I hadn’t fully dealt with every aspect of my “great disappointment” and while I loved my life, I still wished I could share it with someone who I loved. Dishes and laundry piled up, barrels of food waste sat in the driveway, attracting flies and rodents. Every time I was the mess my life was in, I felt horrible inside, overwhelmed and not sure where to start. Some days, I would start to tackle it one piece at a time. Other days, all I could manage was to make sure my brother had food to eat, while I stayed holed up inside my dark bedroom, watching tv shows or movies most of the day. Yet, I didn’t want to let anyone know that I was struggling and didn’t want to ask for help. Because that would show that I was weak and that I “couldn’t do it all”. And what would my life be, if it was just one failure after another? And who would ever want to marry someone like me, anyways?
It was a vicious cycle, one that I desperately wanted to get out of, but didn’t know how to. It was layer after layer of things piled up, until it became unbearable. First, it was the “Fair Week”, as we called it - working the Del. Co. Fair 6am to 11am with a few afternoon shifts. Either I took care of the animals at my farm job and my own farm in the evening or I had to get up at like 3am. Some days I took a nap in the afternoon, but other days there wasn’t time. I still collected food waste that week, but I don’t remember emptying them out of the barrels. The week after the fair, we had back to back events, then I started an odd job in Binghamton, which took away another 2 days a week, in addition to my other regular jobs. Around that time, a neighbor saw my brother outside and yelled at him to basically “clean up the mess!” Of course, it wasn’t necessarily Joel’s responsibility, because it was my business after all, even though he helped when he could.
So we worked until like 3am in the morning to clean up what we could, until we nearly collapsed. We then discussed how to best rectify the situation, because I had basically run out of space on the property, didn’t have enough time for everything and still was losing money. So we both doubled down our efforts and came up with a solution and spent the next few weeks, every chance we could, to build these “compost bays” to help keep everything more organized and make the space more efficient. We attacked the rodent issue with vengeance and seemed to have everything under control. But it was reported to us that there were still complaints from the neighborhood, so we wrote letters and personally delivered them to each one, apologizing and explaining the steps we’d taken to rectify the situation.
Time passed and all seemed ok. By now it was early 2020, I had gotten better at juggling things and staying on top of my depression and being overwhelmed. I made an online petition and had an overwhelming response. I thought the neighborhood issues were behind us, as long as I could keep my end of the bargain up. Then there were reports of a town board meeting. I made phone calls but no one seemed to have an answer if “DCC” was on the agenda. So I gathered my “evidence” and as a family, we showed up to the meeting. Sure enough, all the neighbors and other people were gathered. Knowing how I used to be, I would have just wanted to crawl under the rug and die. I was still nervous and my body trembled, but here I was in what felt like an Inquisition. But once the meeting started, it actually was “better than expected” as the neighbors expressed their concerns AND their support. It was determined nothing could be done there and then, but to write the code enforcement officer and he would handle it. While the “jury was still out” as to what would be the outcome, I felt hopeful and even neighbors said themselves they didn’t want to “shut us down”, while others were more like “we think what you’re doing is great, but not in our neighborhood.”
Weeks went by and no phone call or contact from the code enforcement officer. I was hoping that perhaps “nothing came of it.” Then, one February day, I opened the mailbox and there’s a letter from the Town of Delhi. I opened it and my heart sank. In some many words, it basically said “cease and desist” until you can file a “special use permit”.
So, I look at the special use permit, thinking Just some red tape and we’ll be up and running in no time.
But, oh no, that wasn’t the case. The stipulations were that neighbors had to be in agreement and that it wouldn’t “impact them negatively” and they had already proven that they weren’t going to agree on anything like that. And then, the deluge began.
The “If Only’s” - If only I had asked for more help. If only I had forced myself out of bed on those days when I didn’t feel like facing the mess. If only I had been stronger. If only I hadn’t procrastinated. If only I had said “no” to this or that and not burned myself out. If only I hadn’t stayed up until 1am those nights and therefore wake up until 10am the following morning. If only, if only …
I was always afraid of this failing, but I didn’t think it’d fail because it grew too fast and lacked the right infrastructure, labor or funds to keep it going. I thought it would fail from lack of support, not from being “too successful” ! Can’t I do anything right? Will I ever have success? Why is it that every time I have something enjoyable in life or a measure of success, that I fall flat on my face or the rug gets pulled out from under me!
But, I wasn’t about to give up! I fought tooth and nail, trying to find a way to keep it alive, albeit on life support. People offered solutions and contacted many people who might be able to help. I shook the trees, but at the same time, I was still juggling my other part time jobs and therefore was still limited in my time. Then, COVID hit and the “world shut down”. It seemed as if everything was against the possibility of DCC ever being able to start again. I was torn inside.
On the one hand, was this only meant to be for a short season and some “very expensive learning lesson”? Or was it just a matter of timing and location, that one day it might be possible again, given the right circumstances? So many questions and no clear answer. After the doors kept closing, I finally decided to lay Delhi Community Compost down at God’s feet, and surrender it ALL to Him. And like I’d done with other things in my life, if He was ever in it again, I knew that He was capable of bringing it back “to life”. And yet, I still struggled at times with the feelings of “failure”, loss of all my savings that I had spent on starting it up, only to have it shutdown. Like for so many of us 2020, was a rough year, in addition to losing the business, I lost my farm job, quit my almost 12-year job at the Humane Society, ended up working 5-6 days a week at a restaurant for “peanuts”, which resulted in my living paycheck to paycheck. I looked for work but in the middle of the pandemic, it was tough finding work and I also had a different mindset that I wanted to only work part time, so that I could still “farm”. Little did I know that those challenges of 2020 would be setting the stage for my greatest blessings in life, once I let go of even more of my own ideas of how my life should look like.
