As harvest rolls on across the province this year, many farmers are running on fumes—physically, mentally, and emotionally—after what’s been the driest growing seasons in recent memory. The reality is that this season has tested many farmers in ways that go beyond exhaustion. When drought hits hard, it shakes the very foundation of what we need to feel secure—things like water, feed, and financial stability.
In psychology, there’s a concept called Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, often shown as a pyramid. The idea is pretty simple: before we can focus on things like connection, confidence, or personal growth, we need our basic needs met—food, water, shelter, and stability. When those very basic needs are threatened, it’s normal for everything else to feel out of reach.
For many in our farming community, that’s exactly where things are right now. The foundation feels shaky, fragile. You might find yourself running on autopilot, focused on surviving the season rather than thriving through it. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human.
Maslow’s lesson reminds us that wellness isn’t about finding silver linings or forcing ourselves to be positive. It’s about recognizing what we need most right now. And right now, for many, that’s money in the bank, water in the ground, and enough feed in the barn to make it through the winter. When those are the needs in front of us, the idea of “wellness” can feel entirely frustrating.
And it’s true; the challenges facing farmers cannot be solved by self-care alone. Feed shortages, yield losses, and rising costs require real, systemic solutions. We fully recognize that, and organizations like the Nova Scotia Federation of Agriculture continue to advocate for effective supports that help farmers weather these storms.
But those advocacy efforts and the work of We Talk. We Grow. don’t have to be at odds. We can, and must, do both. While we push for the changes that help farmers survive, we can also tend to the parts of ourselves that help us get through until those changes come. Because taking care of our mental health isn’t a luxury reserved for when things are good and we can tend to the “top of our pyramid,” so to speak. It’s something we need to continue to protect in small, realistic ways, even in survival mode.
When the tank feels empty, it’s often those simple acts, from a shared meal, a call returned, or a neighbour checking in, that can start to refill it.
So, as harvest continues, remember that you don’t have to have all the answers or the energy for what comes next. When the ground cracks and the bills start piling up, it’s hard to think about anything beyond the next day, and that’s okay. Survival mode is a valid place to be right now. But rebuilding starts with rest, with support, and with remembering that you’re not alone in feeling stretched thin.
You can’t give a whole lot from a tank that’s run dry, but you can start with what you have and refill it, one step at time.
