When I first started sharing online, I thought the hardest part would be learning how to make videos.
I thought it would be figuring out social media—learning how to post, where to post, understanding what SEO even is, finding a niche, coming up with things to talk about, and getting comfortable on camera. I knew that part would take some getting used to, but I expected it.
I was wrong.
The hardest part has been learning how to be seen.
I’ve always been more of a behind-the-scenes person. I’ve always been perfectly happy living my life quietly. If I helped someone, it was because I thought it was the right thing to do—not because I wanted credit, recognition, or praise. I never minded letting someone else take the spotlight, and I didn’t spend much time worrying if I wasn’t getting credit for something I had done.
I’ve always considered myself mentally strong… or at least I thought I was.
Then I started sharing online.
Sharing pieces of my homestead, my garden, my animals, and my thoughts with thousands of strangers was never something I imagined myself doing. Looking back, I think part of the reason I never cared who got the credit—or if I took the blame—was because deep down, I knew my truth. I knew who I was, and the opinions of strangers didn’t really matter.
But putting yourself out there publicly is different. Suddenly people are forming opinions about you based on a few seconds of a video, a single photo, or a small glimpse into your life.
In the beginning, nobody was watching anyway. I was just trying to find my footing—learning how to talk to a camera, edit videos, and explain what I was doing in a way that made sense. There wasn’t any pressure because there wasn’t really an audience. I was simply figuring things out as I went.
Then people started showing up.
At first, it was exciting because it meant I could help more people. I could show someone that it’s okay to start from nothing. I could remind people that progress doesn’t have to be perfect and that sometimes what you were capable of that day is enough. The whole reason I started sharing was because I wanted to encourage beginners, teach what I’ve learned, and help people feel a little less alone in their journey.
And for every person I’ve helped, every message I’ve received, and every comment from someone who learned something new, I’ve been reminded why I started in the first place.
But with more people comes something else: criticism, disagreement, and sometimes plain old rudeness.
What amazes me isn’t that people disagree with me. People should disagree. Nobody knows everything. There are plenty of areas in my own life where I still have room to learn and grow. In fact, there are probably things I believe today that I’ll look back on years from now and realize I was wrong about. That’s part of being human. If we’re not learning new things, how are we improving ourselves or our lives?
The difference is that when I come across something I don’t understand, my first instinct is usually curiosity. I want to ask questions. I want to research it. I want to understand why someone believes what they believe. Not everyone approaches life that way.
Some people seem determined to disagree before they’ve even considered another perspective. Some people seem to enjoy being unkind. And that part still confuses me. I can’t imagine waking up in the morning and deciding I want to make someone else’s day worse. I can’t imagine seeing a stranger share something online and immediately looking for a reason to tear them down.
Maybe they don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s normal behavior to them. Maybe they don’t realize there’s a real person on the other side of the screen. Or maybe they simply don’t care. I don’t know. And maybe that’s not something I need to understand.
What I do know is that some days it gets to me.
There are days when I intentionally avoid reading comments—not because I can’t handle criticism, but because I know I’m not in the right mindset for it. I’ve learned that protecting my peace is important. I’ve learned that not every comment deserves my attention. And I’ve learned that stepping away isn’t weakness. Sometimes it’s wisdom.
The truth is, there are still moments when I wonder how long I’ll keep doing this. Not because I don’t enjoy helping people—I do. I genuinely love sharing what I’ve learned. I love teaching. I love encouraging beginners. I love hearing from people who finally started a garden, tried preserving food, raised their first chickens, or took some small step toward becoming more self-sufficient because something I shared helped them.
I’ve always said that if I help just one person, then this is all worth it. I still believe that.
The challenge is learning how to keep showing up while tuning out the voices that want to pull me down. Some people tell me I’m disconnected from reality. They say I’m privileged. They say I don’t understand how hard life is. But the truth is, I do know life is hard. I’ve lived through hard seasons just like everyone else.
What I share isn’t meant to make anyone feel bad about where they are. It’s meant to show what’s possible. It’s meant to encourage people to start where they are, with what they have. Whether that’s growing a single tomato plant, learning a new skill, preserving a few jars of food, or simply believing they’re capable of more than they thought.
I know not everyone will connect with that message, and that’s okay. What I don’t understand is why some people spend so much energy fighting against hope. If a post doesn’t resonate with someone, they’re free to keep scrolling. I do it every day.
Life is hard. Some people have it harder than others. I understand that. But I’ve also learned that focusing only on what isn’t possible rarely moves us forward. Sometimes the first step toward a better future is simply allowing yourself to believe one is possible.
Maybe that’s the lesson I’m still learning.
It’s okay if people don’t like me.
It’s okay if people disagree with me.
It’s okay if not everyone understands what I’m trying to do.
The people who need my message will hear it. The people who don’t will move on. And maybe what I need to learn is how to let them. Not everyone wants the kind of help I have to offer, and not everyone is in a place where they’re ready to receive it. That’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and it doesn’t mean they’re wrong. It just means my message wasn’t meant for them.
Maybe that’s enough.
At the end of the day, I’d rather be someone who tries to help than someone who spends their time tearing others down.
So I’ll keep planting.
I’ll keep sharing.
I’ll keep teaching.
At least for now.
And I’ll keep reminding myself that the voices that matter most are usually the quiet ones—the people who never leave a comment, never start an argument, and never make themselves known. The people who are quietly learning, growing, trying again, and finding encouragement in places they didn’t expect.
Those are the people I started this journey for.
The beginner who thinks they’re too late.
The person who believes they don’t know enough.
The family trying to take one small step toward a better future.
Those are the people I think about when I hit “post.”
And they’re the reason I’ll keep going.















