Neither Savannah nor I are particularly injury-prone individuals. Neither of us had ever broken a bone before moving onto our raw land, and thankfully that is still the case (knock on wood). But we’ve been racking up injuries since we moved onto our homestead a little over three years ago. Savannah has sprained both her ankles a few months apart, and I’ve dealt with two foot injuries. Last week, I added a new inconvenient injury to the list after slipping on ice. I tore my peroneal tendon, and as I lay on the ground, staring up at the cold sky, many thoughts flew through my mind: why did I decide to take this route? this is not good. this is not a good time to be injured. oh sh*t. Truthfully there’s never a good time to be injured, but especially not when you’re a homesteader living off-grid.

The second time Savannah sprained her ankle stands out as one of the lower moments for us. I had just undergone carpal tunnel surgery on both hands and wasn’t fully healed. We had to call my mom to drive three hours just to take Savannah to the doctor because I couldn’t drive yet. Her second sprain, on a different ankle than the first, was much worse. We feared it was broken. Thankfully, it wasn’t, but she still spent weeks recovering before she could take on her usual tasks again. We had to rent a hotel room for a week because our bathroom was too far for her to access safely. It was a humbling and expensive experience.

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*This was minutes after the fall. My ankle wasn’t as swollen as it would get. Lots of pain and asking myself why didn’t I take a different path than the one that caused me to fall.*

My latest injury came during a brief lull between two winter storms. This January has been unusually cold for our area, with single-digit temperatures demanding constant attention. Wood needs to be cut to size, the animals’ water must be kept from freezing, and countless other tasks pile up just to keep everything afloat. Where we live, single-digit temperatures are rare, and consistent below-freezing days aren’t common enough for us to have fully winterized systems in place yet. We’ve focused on other priorities, like finishing our house, and that means some projects, like insulating water tanks, haven’t made it to the top of the list yet.

We’ve shared videos on social media showing us cutting wood at night, and we’ve gotten plenty of comments—some understanding, others not so much. People ask why we didn’t prepare sooner. The truth is, we’re still building our systems and figuring out how to make this lifestyle work. We don’t have an indoor bathroom yet. We don’t live in a house with unlimited water and electricity. Our home is unfinished and always in progress. Yes, we have wood stacked and dried from a local supplier, but it’s not cut to the size our stove requires. Between ongoing projects and unpredictable weather, things often pile up faster than we can tackle them. That’s the reality of a homestead still in the making.

*Since I could not walk to our outdoor bathroom, Savannah rigged up a shower inside and we both used it. Shower provided by* *this* & *this. Would have been nice to have* *one of these.*

Lesson 1: It’s Okay to Lean on Others

The first thing I had to do was ask for help, and that’s never an easy thing for me. Savannah took over tasks I couldn’t manage, and I hated that she had to do that. She already has so much on her plate, and I knew adding my responsibilities to her workload would only make things harder. But that’s the beauty of being a team—we shoulder the load together. Her first task, which was quite a challenge, was to figure out a way for me to take a shower. Our shower is outdoors- hopefully after this year that will no longer be the case- and there was no way I could make it there. So she rigged up this contraption you see above. She heated up water & put it in a plastic tote and then used this pump to make it a shower. We had this pop up shower tent that we shoved into a stock tank. We’ve been talking about getting a blow up or portable bath tub for situations just like these and we really wish we had one right now.

We also knew that our neighbors would step in if we needed them. They’ve helped us countless times before, whether it was checking on animals, lending tools, or sharing advice. Homesteading off-grid has taught me that community is just as vital as a good stockpile of firewood. It’s a humbling reminder that independence doesn’t mean doing everything alone. Sometimes, leaning on others is the strongest thing you can do.

*Notice my ankle wrapped with a comfrey poultice. There’s no reason to heal & not do dishes at the same time.*

Lesson 2: Adaptation is a Survival Skill

When you live off-grid, you learn to adapt—quickly. With my ankle wrapped in comfrey leaves and elevated on a chair, I had to completely rethink how I approached daily tasks. Washing dishes meant pulling a stool up to the sink, and cooking became a slow, methodical process with everything within arm’s reach. One thing I could finally prioritize is getting a million tasks accomplished on the computer. One of the primary ways we make money is through creating content and working with brands, but that often gets pushed aside in favor of urgent homestead tasks. So, I adapted by focusing on work I could do on the computer. Instead of feeling frustrated by what I couldn’t do, I shifted my energy to what I could. It hasn’t always been smooth, but I’m finding new ways to keep moving forward.

Lesson 3: Strength Comes from Stillness

This injury has forced me to reevaluate my instinct to always stay in motion. Out here, there’s a never-ending list of tasks demanding attention, and it’s easy to equate busyness with productivity. But being sidelined has made me realize that strength doesn’t always come from doing, sometimes it comes from stopping.

With my ankle wrapped and my to-do list left untouched, I have found myself by the fire more often than not, letting the stillness settle in. It’s not just about physical recovery; it’s about recalibrating my mind. I’ve read books that have been collecting dust, journaled thoughts I’ve been too busy to process, and simply sat in quiet reflection. It felt indulgent at first, but I have began to see the power in these moments. Stillness isn’t weakness- it’s where clarity and resilience are born.

Sometimes, the hardest work is learning to let go and trust that the world won’t fall apart while you rest.

Lesson 4: Gratitude Grows in the Hardest Moments

This experience has left me deeply grateful. Grateful for a body that is resilient and capable of healing, one that carries me through the countless tasks this lifestyle demands. Grateful for Savannah, my best friend, who stepped in to care for me without hesitation. Grateful for the opportunity to slow down and appreciate the simple, everyday tasks—like chopping wood or feeding the chickens—that I often take for granted.

This time has also allowed me to focus on things I’d been neglecting, like catching up on computer work and resetting my mind. It’s a reminder to find gratitude not just in what I can do, but in the moments when I’m forced to pause. This year is full of challenges ahead, and this pause is helping me prepare for the work to come. As I’ve started to heal, I’ve realized this setback was a reminder of why we chose this life. It’s not about proving how tough we are or how much we can handle. It’s about living intentionally, leaning into the seasons of life, and finding strength in both ourselves and our community.

How to Be Better Prepared for Injury or Illness

Create a First Aid Kit Tailored to Your Needs: Ensure it includes not only basics like bandages and antiseptics but also items specific to homestead injuries—like comfrey leaves for sprains or a splint for immobilization. Keep a pair of crutches on hand.
Have a Backup Plan for Essential Tasks: Write down step-by-step instructions or record videos for chores like feeding animals, managing water systems, or operating tools, so others can step in if needed.
Stockpile Essentials: Keep extra firewood, water, and food supplies readily accessible to minimize the strain during recovery. One thing we’ve been doing is making several extra servings of a meal and then freezing the individual portions in these cubes. This has literally changed our lives and has been especially helpful as I have been incapacitated.
Build a Support Network: Establish relationships with neighbors or nearby friends who can help in emergencies, and don’t hesitate to ask for assistance. This will take time. Even if you’ve lived next door for years, it’s never too late to introduce yourself to your neighbors. This is as important as your own personal preparedness.
Prioritize Preventative Measures: Ensure pathways are clear and reduce clutter on your property. Nearly every injury on our property was caused by not have a clear or safe pathway.

If you’re living this lifestyle, or dreaming of it, here’s my advice: Prepare for the unexpected, build your community, and don’t be afraid to rest when you need it. Homesteading and living off-grid is rewarding, but it’s not without challenges. It’s in those challenges that you discover just how capable you are and how much beauty there is in leaning on others when you can’t do it all yourself.

Here’s to the lessons we never wanted to learn but needed anyway.