An Emotional Support Extrovert Homesteading in the City

I’m Victoria Gracie. Dancer, author, self-defense instructor, mama of two girls, and an emotional support extrovert homesteading in the city.

Yes, that last part is in my bio on purpose.

I love people. I love a full table. I love making a charcuterie board for absolutely no reason other than people are coming over. I love conversation, family, connection, and creating the kind of room where someone walks in and feels like they belong.

I also really love going outside and checking on my chickens.

Both make sense to me.

For years, I struggled with belonging. I had the kind of FOMO that could run the show if I let it. If something was happening somewhere and I was not there, a little part of me wondered if I was missing the moment that mattered.

I have learned to meet that feeling differently.

Sometimes I gather people.

Sometimes I grow things.

And somewhere between the garden, the animals, the dirt under my nails, and whatever I am currently attempting to keep alive, I have found another way home to myself.

That is what emotional support extrovert homesteading means in my life.

What Does Emotional Support Extrovert Homesteading Mean?

First, let me be clear. “Emotional support extrovert” is not a diagnosis. It is just a very accurate description of me.

I genuinely like people.

There is something about gathering people that has always felt natural. Maybe that is because belonging did not always feel natural to me. These days, instead of waiting for someone else to create the room I want to be invited into, I create it myself.

I set the table.

I make the food.

I invite the people.

I watch my kids run around with people they love.

The little girl in me who worried about missing out gets to watch a house full of people belong to one another.

Then everyone goes home, and I have another side of myself waiting outside.

And Then There Is the Homesteading Part

When people hear “homesteading,” they may picture acres of farmland, a barn, and someone who knows far more about preserving tomatoes than I currently do.

My version happens in the city.

There is a garden. There are chickens. There have been bunnies. There is food being grown, things being baked, animals being cared for, experiments succeeding, and plenty of experiments that have absolutely not succeeded.

That still counts.

The USDA describes urban agriculture as growing, processing, and distributing agricultural products in urban and suburban places. It can include backyard plots, rooftop gardens, community gardens, and different ways of raising plants and animals within limited spaces.

So no, I do not need a hundred acres.

Apparently I just need enough room to make my family wonder what animal I might bring home next.

I Spent Years Performing. Growing Things Asks Me to Do the Opposite.

I spent more than fifteen years working professionally as a dancer, actress, model, and choreographer.

I performed on world tours. I worked with artists including Rihanna, Justin Timberlake, Kelly Rowland, Chayanne, and later Lana Del Rey. I worked in television, movies, commercials, music videos, live shows, and places where being watched was literally part of the job.

I am proud of that life.

It taught me discipline. It taught me how to prepare. It taught me to work when I was tired, learn quickly, take corrections, care for my body, and walk into rooms where I did not know anyone and figure it out.

It also taught me how to perform confidence before I necessarily felt it.

There is a difference.

A garden has never asked me to perform anything.

Plants Do Not Care About the Performance

A tomato plant does not care who I toured with.

The chickens have shown zero interest in my resume.

A seed does not care whether I feel accomplished that day.

There is something wonderfully humbling about that.

Growing things brings the relationship back to something very basic. Did I pay attention? Did I water it? Is it getting enough sun? What is happening in the soil? Is something eating it? Did I plant it at the wrong time?

And sometimes I can do a lot right and still lose the plant.

I cannot charm a garden into cooperating.

I have to participate.

That difference matters to me.

For much of my professional life, my body was part of the work. Dance taught me how to move for an audience. Later, jiu-jitsu taught me to move for my life.

Gardening gave me another physical language entirely.

It asked me to slow down enough to notice.

Why Growing Things Helps Me Come Back to Myself

I do not garden because I believe a vegetable can solve my problems.

It cannot.

But growing things changes what I am doing with my attention.

There are moments when my brain can be everywhere at once. Family. Work. Kids. Plans. People I love. Things I forgot. Things I need to remember. Things I cannot control but apparently would still like to spend some mental energy trying to control.

Then I walk outside.

Something needs water.

An animal needs feeding.

There is something ready to pick.

There is a plant that looked completely fine yesterday and has apparently decided today is the day for drama.

Suddenly, I am dealing with what is actually in front of me.

Gardening Gives My Attention Somewhere Physical to Go

There is research suggesting I am not alone in feeling different when I garden.

A 2024 umbrella review brought together 40 previous reviews examining gardening and horticultural activities. Researchers found an overall positive relationship with measures of well- being, quality of life, and general health. They also cautioned that the studies varied considerably, so the findings should not be treated as a simple clinical prescription.

That distinction matters.

I am not telling you that planting basil is therapy.

I am telling you what growing things does for me.

It gets me out of my head and into something physical.

I can touch the soil. Carry the water. Pull the weeds. Feed the animals. See what has changed since yesterday.

It gives all that mental motion somewhere tangible to land.

I Cannot Rush a Garden

I have spent a lot of my life moving fast.

Gardens are deeply unimpressed by this skill.

You can give a seed what it needs, but you cannot negotiate with it about your schedule.

You cannot demand a harvest Tuesday because Wednesday is inconvenient.

You cannot make a season move faster because you are ready for what comes next.

I love that.

I also hate that sometimes.

Which is probably exactly why I need it.

One of the hardest things I have learned is that I control almost nothing.

I can prepare. I can practice. I can make decisions. I can set boundaries. I can choose how I respond.

But control?

No.

Growing things makes that lesson visible.

You put something in the ground and care for it. Then you wait.

Some things grow beautifully.

Some things surprise you.

Some things die.

Then you learn something and plant again.

There Is Evidence Behind Why It Feels Different

One small experimental study offers an interesting window into stress recovery.

Researchers gave 30 gardeners a stressful task and then assigned them to either 30 minutes of outdoor gardening or indoor reading. Cortisol decreased in both groups, but the decrease was significantly stronger after gardening. Reported positive mood also recovered in the gardening group.

Thirty people is not enough to turn gardening into a universal answer to stress.

But I recognize the experience.

Sometimes my mind needs me to stop asking it to think its way out of everything.

Sometimes my body needs a job.

City Homesteading Is Less About Acreage Than Participation

One reason I love homesteading is that it puts me back inside the process.

We live in a world where so much arrives finished.

Food appears packaged. Things arrive at the door. We press buttons and expect results.

Growing something changes the relationship.

You see the beginning.

You do some of the work.

You wait.

You mess it up.

You learn.

Then, occasionally, you get to eat the evidence.

I Want to Know Where Things Come From

This instinct did not begin with gardening.

When I was in middle school, I wanted a computer. My stepdad worked at JPL for NASA, and rather than buying me one, he gave me huge books about computers and told me to read them.

I did.

Then he gave me a budget, took me to Fry’s Electronics, and told me that if I wanted a computer, I was going to build it.

So I built it.

Piece by piece.

When it turned on, I learned something about myself that I have carried ever since: given the time and resources, I can learn how to do things.

Then, naturally, I used my newly built computer for AOL Instant Messenger because I was twelve and had priorities.

I have been building things ever since.

A career.

A family.

A stronger body.

Books.

Community.

Myself.

And yes, a garden.

Homesteading scratches that same itch. I do not only want the finished thing. I want to understand some of what made it possible.

You Do Not Need a Farm to Grow Something

This is one reason I like the idea of city homesteading.

It does not have to begin with buying land and dramatically disappearing into the wilderness.

Urban growing can happen in backyards, community gardens, rooftops, balconies, indoor systems, and other small spaces. USDA resources specifically recognize community gardens, rooftop growing, hydroponics, vertical growing, and other approaches as forms of urban agriculture. 

The USDA Climate Hubs also notes that city food growing can include backyard, rooftop, and balcony gardens as well as community spaces and more intensive growing systems.

Your version does not have to look like mine.

Maybe you have chickens.

Maybe you have three pots of herbs.

Maybe your first act of homesteading is learning to make bread.

Maybe you grow one tomato plant and become emotionally invested in that tomato in a way you were not prepared for.

Start there.

The Garden Became Part of How I Mother

For years, I homeschooled my daughters.

Our version of school was not always sitting at a table with worksheets.

Chickens and bunnies could become biology.

Baking could become math.

Art could find its way into almost anything.

Some days were magic.

Some days we all cried.

Both count.

Homesteading fit naturally into the kind of childhood I wanted them to experience because there are things you cannot fully teach through explanation.

You have to do them.

Teaching Capability Without Giving a Lecture

I believe capability can be built.

That belief sits underneath so much of my life now, from self-defense to parenting.

Caring for something gives children a chance to experience responsibility instead of simply hearing adults talk about it.

An animal still needs care when you are tired.

A plant does not grow faster because you are impatient.

Baking does not care that you forgot an ingredient.

There is feedback built into the experience.

That matters.

I do not want my daughters to believe being capable means always knowing what to do.

I want them to know they can meet something they do not know, learn, make a mistake, adjust, and try again.

Some Lessons Look Like Dead Tomato Plants

I am willing to fail.

I want my daughters to see that.

I do not want their model of adulthood to be a woman frantically hiding every mistake so everyone else thinks she has everything handled.

That is exhausting.

Sometimes we get it wrong.

Sometimes dinner is weird.

Sometimes the plant dies.

Sometimes the thing you were certain would work does not.

Fine.

What did it teach us?

Failure becomes much less frightening when you stop treating it as a verdict.

A garden is very good at reminding me of that.

Maybe This Is Why I Keep Growing Things

I have lived a very public life in some ways.

I spent years on stages. I have taught rooms full of women. I have written books. I have raised children who watch far more closely than I sometimes wish they did.

But the garden does not need Victoria Gracie to be anything.

It just needs me to show up.

Maybe that is what it regulates in me.

It gives the part of me that loves movement something physical to do.

It gives the part of me that loves nurturing something to care for.

It gives the part of me that wants control repeated proof that control was never the assignment.

And it gives the emotional support extrovert in me somewhere to go after everyone leaves.

Outside.

Probably carrying chicken feed.

Start Where You Are

You do not need acres of land or a perfect setup to begin. Start with one thing. Grow herbs. Plant a tomato. Learn how to bake bread. Care for something long enough to watch it change.

That is how I have learned most of what matters to me. I try, I pay attention, I get things wrong, and I keep going.

If you want to know more about my story, my family, the work I teach, and the life I am still building, you can explore my website.

And if something here connected with you and you would like to reach out, send me a message here.

Frequently Asked Questions

What does "emotional support extrovert homesteading" mean?

For me, emotional support extrovert homesteading describes the meeting point between my love of people and my need for hands-on work at home. I love gathering people, but gardening, caring for animals, and growing food give me a quieter place to put my attention and practice patience.

Can you homestead while living in a city?

Yes. Homesteading does not require a traditional farm, and urban agriculture can include backyard gardens, rooftop growing, community gardens, hydroponics, and other small space systems. USDA urban agriculture guidance recognizes many different forms of food production in urban and suburban areas.

Can gardening help with stress?

Research suggests gardening may support stress recovery and well-being, although it should not be presented as a replacement for professional mental health care. A controlled study found a greater cortisol decrease after gardening than indoor reading following an acute stress task, while a larger 2024 review found broadly positive results across well being measures but also substantial variation among studies.

What can a beginner grow on a small city homestead?

Start with what fits your climate, available sunlight, space, water, and local rules. Herbs, container vegetables, edible plants, and small garden beds can offer an approachable beginning, while USDA resources show that urban growing can work in spaces ranging from backyards to rooftops and balconies.

Why does Victoria Gracie grow things and keep animals?

For me, it comes back to capability and participation. Growing food and caring for animals let me work with my hands, teach my daughters through real experiences, practice patience, accept what I cannot control, and return my attention to what is actually happening in front of me.