No So Happy Camper

I am pretty sure all signs point to me and my dreams of the PCT being over. It was most definitely a fantasy, and not my reality. It all started with watching Jessica “Dixie” Mills on her current quest to conquer the PCT, and ended with my camping experience this weekend.

Adrienne and I had been planning to camp in Colorado Springs since the beginning of this month. We wanted to get in a camping trip, and a few activities in the Springs area. I was looking forward to it, up until Friday when I noticed myself trying to talk to her out of it. “If you don’t feel up to going, I would be totally cool with that.” That is my trick in getting someone else to cancel so I don’t have to. The weather said rain all weekend and I did what I do before any camping trip – look up bear attacks. Though it is more likely you will die by lightning than by bear, I sufficiently scared myself into thinking bears were everywhere this year in Colorado. Adrienne, however, did not bite, no pun intended, and she said she would be home in time so we could leave by 4pm on Friday.

She got home a little after 4pm and I got my wish sort of – the rain that night looked so bad that by the time we would have gotten to Colorado Springs, it would have been monsoon like rain and dark out. We called and cancelled our Friday reservation and said we would be there Saturday. When morning rolled around, I felt a little better (though still would have LOVED for her to say she was not feeling it) and we packed up and headed to the Springs. We stopped off at Garden of the Gods first, which is always a nice little diversion from anything too challenging or bear-infested, and headed to the campsite around 1:30pm.

At the office, one woman thought our reservation had been cancelled. “Yes!” I thought. No camping. Too bad, so sad (sniff, sniff). Then another woman steps up, who is obviously in charge, and proceeds to find our permit. The unexpected bonus is that they refund us the money for Friday (woo hoo). So, as the first woman finishes setting us up, she tells us (with a smile on her face) that a black bear and her two cubs have been spotted in the area just a couple weeks ago. She tells us with such ease, as if when we spot them, we should go up to them, say hello, and invite them in for some s’mores. Her lack of warning in how she said it did soothe my mind a bit, but it also egged on my thought that bears are everywhere.

When we got to the campsite, we were both pretty tired and just wanted to set up the tent. Unfortunately, it began raining and we were only half way through, so we spread the rain tarp on what we had done and sat in the car. This was already not turning out to be ideal. The rain was off and on, so we were able to finish the set up with little water having gotten into the tent, but this tent was about 20 years old and I worried about the monsoon winds blowing it open in the middle of the night.

So, anyways, fast forward to dinner time, which we both anxiously awaited and counted the seconds until 5pm. We were able to eat outside because the sun came out and half of our table was under a tree and miraculously not wet. We then started taking a walk on the 1/2 mile trail laden with trees. I swear there were bears swarming the area (don’t ask Adrienne though because she will say I am just paranoid). I made her turn around a little way in and we went back, read, and tried to sleep. I bought this pillow sack that you stuff with clothes to save space in your bag. I realize stuffing a sack with clothes leads to an uneven pillow, so I put a towel in there instead. It ended up being a little flat, but better. I will need to come up with something better for my Utah trip – a week of camping (yikes!).

Before I start on how the night went, I need to relay that I drank no water after like 5pm. The bathrooms were far from our campsite and the sites were so jammed next to each other, I feared being uncomfortable going outside in case someone saw me. Well, my bladder had other ideas. It woke me up at 11pm, which is when the torrential rain hit, and all I could think about was using the bathroom. I went like 3 times before bed, what else was in there?? I opened the tent door and looked out. Luckily, this was a well-lit tent site and I could see all around me. I closed the tent door and debated what to do. I then swore I saw shadows and gently nudged my sister who had been up due to the rain. It was then that I realized the shadows were the rain tarp. I have been listening to way too many Sword and Scale podcasts, which are true crime podcasts that mainly focus on serial killers. My problem now was not bears, but serial killers trying to get into my tent. Knowing my sister was up, however, eased the fears and I braved the rain to go to the bathroom – outside the tent, not to the campground facilities.

So, I got back in and figured I could sleep. Wrong! I don’t know what it is about sleeping in a tent, if the ground presses my bladder, but it was only a matter of time – like literally just minutes – before I had to go again. The rain eased up a bit and I went. Oh yeah, I forgot that the first time I came back in from going outside, I turned to my sister and said, “I will pay you $20 if we can leave now.” I was dead serious. Rain, lack of a solid pillow, no bathroom, I was done. She didn’t budge. So, after feeling the urge to use the bathroom for a third time, I concluded I would not sleep. I am not sure if I got up again, but I did fall asleep until 4:30 or 5am. I listened to a podcast about female serial killers and waited for the sun to come up so I could use a real bathroom. I still checked under the stalls to make sure no one was lurking, but the campgrounds were already pretty active and I felt okay. I forgot to mention there were lots and lots of RVs and I contemplated making friends with one of the RV owners Saturday night and seeing if they would let me sleep on their couch.

The morning was better because the sun was up and I knew the camping excursion was nearly done. Adrienne said there was a 6am bugle-horn wakeup, but I somehow missed it. One of the campground staff members also drove around about 7am to check on everyone and asked why we were leaving. I said, “Because I need a real bed.” I never thought of myself as someone needing a real bed, but I do. I thought because I am comfortable in my own filth and like walking, that meant I like camping, but I am not so sure.

This is only my third time camping and while it was “the worst” due to the weather, it shed light on my fantasy idea of long-term camping. Funny thing is, by the time we finished breakfast and were walking back from brushing our teeth, I turned to my sister and told her I was already thinking, “Well, Utah for a week won’t be that bad.” The memory of a bad night sleep was already leaving me, and I sure hope I am right about Utah being different. Or at least being tolerable. The shower when I got home sure felt nice though, and making my bed with clean sheets was just icing on the cake. Weather does have a major effect on how I enjoy, or dislike, activities. But I think I am going to have to officially put my fantasy of hiking the PCT to rest and admit tents and sleeping bags and the potential threat of wildlife encounters don’t sit well with me after all. Now, RV camping, maybe that is a different story…

Sunday Afternoon

I went back and started reading old blogs. First, it was just the most recent, and then I dug deeper into my decision to go back to school and my first days in New York. I stumbled onto September 28, 2013 where I included an article my mom sent me about vulnerability. The entire thing struck me. Here is a piece:

“Vulnerability is not about winning, it’s not about losing — it’s about having the courage to show up and be seen,” she says. “It’s about willingness to say, ‘Look, I don’t have all the answers.’”

The she is Brene Brown, a scholar and public speaker. I wanted to write today, but always sense a risk in doing so and hesitate. People will read this, and they will then know more about me. What if I am misinterpreted, or even worse, seen as someone who vomits her thoughts and feelings on paper? I have heard others say, and been guilty of, seeing posts on Facebook and thinking, “TMI.” But in regards to myself doing that in this blog, that is being dishonest with myself. I do not vomit on these pages. I share. And you can always stop reading if it becomes too much for you.

But the vulnerability piece is not in terms of my writing. That is not why it struck me. It is because I am again, as I have been writing since way back, wanting to make changes in my life. And you know what? I do not have the answers to what that even means. I do this. I jump around. I get “bored” and write it off as boredom and I book. I did it with activities as a kid, I do it with friends, did it with high school relationships. I imagine what these things will be like, have fun for a second, and then interest fades and I decide to not stick with it anymore. I don’t feel like I have missed any opportunities because of it or given up on something before it was time. I have no regrets. But I have hope. There are things I have stuck with – support groups, grad school, jobs (not to be confused with careers), girlfriends. I just think in the two areas of my life that are so so so damn relentless in my overthinking head – career and intimate relationships – “I don’t have all the answers.”

I guess I thought after 12 years in recovery, and having shared myself more fully with my family, my sponsors, friends, I had taken down the protective wall I placed around myself. I had been fleshed out, I am open for viewing, allowing others in freely. And while this is more true that it was 12 years ago, it does not mean my fears of taking those leaps and letting others in are gone. Or taking leaps of any kind outside of my comfort zone really. I think most of us are scared to do things outside that comfort zone, and for me it is doing anything that does not have a clear path. I NEED to know what is coming to me and when I don’t, I cannot trust it will be something I want. I am laughing because I have gotten so many things I did not want, but have worked out so so so to my benefit and so for the best because I did not know I wanted them. My life has turned out nothing as I planned and I would not alter any of it…at all. But man, taking those leaps, going into the unknown, what a fucking scary thing.

I know moving to New York is scary and going back to school is scary without knowing what will come of it, but for someone like me, when there is at least a goal of getting a diploma, it feels like there is a path and so I am distracted from thinking about that unknown future. Or moving to Denver, to a whole other state, is scary, but I had an internship and a sister waiting here for me. Now I am again at what I feel is a turning point, but I have no answers. I have no point A goes to point B. I am not about to make any leaps today, on this sunny Sunday afternoon, but I am alone (listening to the Backstreet Boys) and thinking about life. I want the best for myself because I know I can have it. I think we all can, but it is taking the leap into the unknown that stops me, and maybe others. I can only speak for me.