Farmers First: The kitchen table test
Earlier this week, I spent an entire day clearing off my kitchen table. No, I wasn’t cleaning up from a gourmet seven-course dinner. I was reclaiming it from a mass of paperwork.
My kitchen table is my favorite all-purpose multi-tool. I occasionally serve meals on it, of course, but that isn’t its main purpose. Instead, it is a staging area for Instagram Reels, a sorting station after grocery shopping and a storage space for foodstuffs that don’t fit in my cupboards.
At present, it’s also home to my late grandmother’s 3.5-foot-tall corn plant. (I couldn’t bear my grandfather’s threats to throw it out, and the table is the only place the cat isn’t allowed.)
Maximizing the potential of the kitchen table is a long-standing family tradition. Growing up, the kitchen table was where Mom read her Bible in the morning and where we kids did homework in the afternoon.
It was where cookies cooled, birthday cakes were decorated and popcorn-and-cranberry strands were strung. I even recall my mother cutting out dress patterns on it.
When time was plentiful, it was where incoming mail was sorted and bills were paid. When time was short, it was the repository for unread magazines, unopened mail and unnecessary flyers.
This last use is the problem. It’s amazing how quickly the unread, unopened and unnecessary can pile up.
At least three generations of my family have sometimes been unable to eat at their respective tables due to the sheer volume of paperwork piled upon them. I am not proud of this legacy and certainly do not want to pass it on to my children. And yet, that’s where I recently found myself.
I determined to begin the reclamation process. It was neither complicated nor difficult: open and sort the important stuff; toss the junk.
As my hands mechanically opened, sorted and tossed, my mind engaged in more philosophical pursuits, such as wondering why I had taken so long to complete such an easy task.
Suddenly it hit me. The state of my kitchen table was a litmus test for my overall wellbeing. On one hand, that made sense. Feeling “well” in all areas of my life would naturally extend into my physical space.
On the other hand, it didn’t make sense at all. After a decade of navigating the fallout from trauma, mental health challenges and untreated neurodivergence, my little three-person family is functioning better than ever.
My table – and the rest of my house – should be shiny, clean and organized. But life isn’t that simple.
The consequences of past actions, past hurts, past failures may linger even after the cause is removed. A year of relative peace can’t eradicate 10 years of turbulence.
In this way, farm life is a bit like dominoes. The different parts – farm, family, personal health – are individual “bones” stacked one after another. It looks as if there is enough distance between them to pick one up, move it to a different place, even lose it under the couch without affecting the rest.
Not so. Every time you take one bone away, you inevitably hit the ones on either side and start a chain reaction until all the dominoes are laying on the floor … or until something breaks the chain.
Fortunately, there are some simple steps you can take when the dominoes start to fall to break the chain and stand them up again.
- Identify your table.
For me, a messy kitchen table indicates that I need support in some aspect of my life. Your indicator may be different: the state of your bedroom, the length of your lawn, the time between haircuts. Take some time this week to identify your indicator. (You’ll need it for the following steps!)
- Check your table.
At least once a week, take a good look at your indicator and give it a grade. Is it A-OK, starting to slip or in total chaos? If it’s anything other than A-OK, take five minutes to write a journal prompt that answers this question: “What support do I need today?” You’d be surprised at how quickly you get the answer and how practical it will be.
- Support your table.
If your table is a little wobbly, you’ll want to get the support you identified above. It could be a good cry, a call with a friend, a trip to the doctor or an appointment with a financial counselor. Don’t try to solve the whole thing at once. One small step is enough.
If your table is clean and secure, do one thing that feeds your soul. Don’t skip this step, because the Domino Effect works in both directions.
Just as one negative event can cause a negative chain reaction, one positive step can stop that chain reaction and start a new, positive one … even if it takes a while to see it.
At the beginning of this column, I claimed that I resolved the Castrataro Kitchen Table Catastrophe in a single day. That’s not quite true. That process actually started a decade ago, right alongside the very challenges that caused the problem in the first place.
In the days, weeks and years that followed, I invested in every small act of self-care I could. I called my sister nearly every day. I went to counseling every week. I consulted with experts. I cried. I prayed. I swore I was giving up.
But I refused to give up.
I thought I was just surviving. I didn’t realize that I was building a reservoir of energy and resilience that I would one day use to make a brand-new start.
Your small acts of daily self-care are doing the same for you.
Not sure what support you need or where to get it? Email me at kcastrataro@pen-light.org so we can chat.
It’s your time to grow!
