Life Beyond the 9-to-5
It’s estimated that around 80% of people dislike their jobs. Many dream of quitting in a spectacular way—maybe tossing their work IDs like frisbees or galloping away to start a goat farm, bake sourdough, and relish the idea of getting a full night’s sleep.
Sean Carlton was once among them.
“No one wakes up one morning and is ready to raise animals for food,” he says, reflecting on how change begins with something manageable—like cutting one bill or picking up a new skill.
But unlike most, he made a move. Two years back, Sean and his wife, Alexis, ditched their corporate jobs, purchasing an acre of land in West Virginia. This journey inspired Sean to write “De-agriculture: Starving the system that makes you farm”— a work that feels part confession, part battle cry.
For the Carltons, this wasn’t merely a career shift but a transformation in lifestyle. They took a gamble without a safety net and uncovered a hard truth: many of us feel restrained not just by our situations but by the narratives we create about our desires.
Questioning “Normal”
Carlton doesn’t see himself as an expert or critic. To him, “Exit Farming” is a heartfelt response from within American cubicles.
When asked what he means by “the system that feeds you,” he keeps it straightforward, having finally understood the nature of his confinement. “The system takes more from you than it gives back while convincing you it’s normal,” he explains.
Work controls your time. Debt influences your choices. Health care heightens your fears. Even your phone morphs into “a distribution system for apps that track you, profile you, and sell your data.”
It might sound a bit dramatic, yet it’s just another Monday for many in America—waking up with a familiar sense of dread about the hours ahead.
Slow and Steady Change
Carlton emphasizes that massive escapes are rare. True liberation is a slow and steady process that gradually diminishes the system’s grip. “Regain control one step at a time,” he suggests. Cut costs. Acquire new skills. Generate income independent of a single entity. Each small step chips away at the system that feeds off your time, attention, identity, and even sanity.
Of course, pursuing independence comes with its costs. Carlton acknowledges this without self-pity. A poignant part of his book addresses his family’s estrangement from him as he strayed from expected norms—not due to dramatic confrontations but through a gradual shifting that soured conversations.
His family’s disapproval stemmed less from his life choices and more from the fact that he no longer conformed to their template.
When asked how people can balance family ties with stepping away from what he describes as “a system that drains our energy,” his answer is forthright. “If a relationship persists solely because of your efforts to improve your health and peace, it will endure. If it crumbles once you stop living by their expectations, it was already frail.”
This truth is harsh, but Carlton presents it plainly. We constructed our own prisons long before any organization shut its doors. The ancients grasped this well: people tend to cling to the comfort of captivity, adapting to the expectations of those who prefer to see them subdued rather than transformed.
Consequences of Modern Work
He also touches on the spiritual side of his critique against today’s work culture. Though he doesn’t preach, it almost feels like a careful moral warning. Modern work “follows you home,” he asserts, invading evenings and weekends, wearing down what previous generations recognized as a foundation for a healthy life.
Americans nearly worship productivity, though it often comes at a steeper cost than they realize. A staggering two-thirds of workers report feeling burnt out. Yet the cycle continues—another day for another dollar, yet another headache, email, and reminder that caffeine can only go so far.
When asked if “deagrarianism” signals a return to older labor concepts, he dismisses any romanticism. “De-farming isn’t about seeking a higher meaning,” he states. “It’s about doing authentic work where you see real results.” If you neglect your animals, “they suffer.” Forget to tend to your crops? Your season’s lost before it starts. Time waits for no one. We can’t simply reschedule to accommodate our convenience. This harsh realism is grounding in itself. And you don’t need a farm to reclaim that; it simply requires work that doesn’t demand you sacrifice your dignity as an entry fee.
Growing Something
The final question his book raises, one many Americans grapple with, is, “What should those feeling trapped do?” Caught between a system they distrust and a daunting independent life, how can they act?
Carlton’s answer is refreshingly simple: “No one just decides overnight to raise livestock.” Change begins with something feasible. Eliminate one expense. Acquire one new skill. Cultivate one thing that brings joy. Build sincere connections. Reduce vulnerabilities. These might seem like minimal, humbling efforts, but they signify the start of a life that operates on your own terms.
Over time, he notes, these adjustments evolve from mere modifications to a resilient life that can weather the failures of the systems around them.
That’s the essence of “Exit Farming.” It’s not about rejecting society or romanticizing hardship; rather, it’s about re-establishing stability in a place where that concept has become a cruel jest. This isn’t a tale of rebellion against the corporate world, but one of a couple opting for a different path—demonstrating that others can do the same. Not through grand destruction but simply by refusing to squander the very essence that makes life meaningful: time, purpose, and peace.





