I used to think struggle belonged somewhere else. It was always other people in other places. I could document it as a photojournalist, pass through it, and move on.
Now it’s here.
I see it in the faces around me. At the hardware store, a woman laid off in front of everyone. A mile up the road, at the country store, another woman, her job gone too. In the grocery aisles, I see the same look again — people doing math in their heads, hoping their kids don’t notice.
Hardship doesn’t stay “out there.” It’s here now, and it’s not going away soon.
On my own land, I feel it every day. I live in a fixer-upper that isn’t yet what my wife deserves. I leave work unfinished because of the commitments I’ve made — to the dog that stays by my side, to the homestead itself, to a way of life that refuses shortcuts. Even the ATM makes the point: my receipt shows a cushion, while the man before me had just $8.42 left to his name.
Preparedness isn’t about fear. It isn’t simply about gear lists or bunkers. It’s about seeing clearly. It’s about refusing to lie to ourselves. These struggles are real, and they’re here, in our neighborhoods, in our homes.
This is why we prepare. Because the cycle is real. Because the weight is here. Because turning away from it won’t make it disappear.