Hopeless Wanderer (Part 5 )

Smoke and Morning Light at Smith Rock State Park from the Bivy. Photo by: Laura Berridge

2017.

Where have you gone? 

I was thinking about everything that has happened this year. 

There were no alpine summits or ticks checked off my climbing list.

I see the accomplishments of others on my Instagram feed, big mountain dreams achieved. While I felt my dreams sat at a standstill.  The way I imagined how my life would play out this year is much different than I expected.

I would describe myself as a late bloomer. I spent most of my twenties confused about who I was, focusing on molding myself into be someone that society told me I had to be.  I have a college degree from one of the best universities on the west coast (University of Washington) and worked my way up the corporate latter where I made failing Applied Behavior Analysis Program successful. 

 I started hiking again at age 27. Then came the mountaineering, rock and ice climbing at 29. 

Yes, I am 31. ( I can hear the gasp through the computer screen.) 

Right after my 30th Birthday, I met Paul on Mount Stuart through our mutual friend. First off, I was as single as single could be. The idea of being in a relationship seemed like a good idea on some days, but most of the time I savored my single life. I had nothing holding me back from doing whatever I wanted. Plus, I seemed to have dated a long line of assholes that year.  When it comes down to it, I really enjoyed being able to pack up and head out whenever I wanted too.

I fought my feelings for Paul for the first year of our relationship. The commitment of moving to Smith Rock for a season was something that I would not give up and I made it clear to Paul that their was no changing my mind. For the record, Paul Jantzi is a saint. He has loved me since before I knew I love him. He accepts my flaws and has shown me what unconditional love is. Paul toughed it out the entire winter living in a tiny camper in Plain, Washington to make our relationship and my dream of Smith Rock a reality. 

Leading up to the move, I did not know if I would keep my sanity.  My work schedule was a nightmare, I split my time between being a Feathered Friends Sales Associate and Server/Bartender at Sansei Sushi. I worked 15-18 hours days Thursday through Saturday, and only had Sundays off.  Paul and I were lucky to see each other once a month. My time outside was rare, but convinced myself that it would all be worth it.

In my mind, it had to be worth it. My previous season started out so strong, I was in the best shape of my life. I was pushing myself and accomplishing goals, until I took a grounder on lead.  At first, I tried to deny that anything was wrong. It really messed me up and I have not lead trad in over a year. 

In January, Paul and I agreed with no question that he would go to Smith Rock State. This was the scariest thing that I did in 2017.  I had come to the realization that Paul coming with me meant taking an even bigger risk. The biggest risk of failure a relationship. Our relationship is something that doesn't come along often. We are completely ourselves with each other, there are no apologies  for who we are. You know all those weird quarks you thought you had to hide from someone before? Well, that wasn't an option for us. You can't hide anything when you live out of a car and a tent with someone.

*Side Note: Paul was hired as a rock climbing guide for Smith Rock Climbing Guides for the season when we took a quick weekend trip to the park in March before the move.

Paul and I at the base of the South Sister in the Sisters Wilderness outside of Bend, Oregon. (May 2017)

What makes our relationship even more unique is our climbing partnership. The ability to take away the  romantic relationship in the mountains can often be a difficult one. You see your partner at that worst, best, and see how they handle some of the most stressful situations. We have lucked out and have been able to make it work very well. It is what bonds us, it is what makes our relationship strong. When our relationship struggles, we know we need to set away time for the mountains so we can reconnect.

Have I mentioned that looks and comments that have been made when I have told people that I made the choice to live out of a tent with my boyfriend for 7 months? As a woman, it's harder to be a "climbing dirtbag" as opposed to being male. Society is still learning how to react to lady dirtbag, they seem to understand the man thing. Men are allowed to be filthy, covered in dirt, cuts, bruises, and be making questionable life choices until they find someone to settle down with.  When it comes down to it, I often wonder why this is such a hard thing to comprehend. Then again, society doesn't really get the whole sell all your possessions and minimalist living thing.

Trust me, before we left, I thought we needed all this money to buy things for our simpler living. I did not think we would be able to make it without certain things.  It was easier to part with everything that I had purchased throughout the years to furnish my first apartment. Over the final days, I was detached from most everything. My furniture and other items no longer served purpose in my life.

We spent a few days in Leavenworth, Washington and my hometown of Post Falls, Idaho on our way out to Smith Rock. We climbed, but I noticed in the pit of my stomach that the stoke was missing. At first, I thought this was just because I spent the past 6 months doing nothing but work.  It seemed to be something more as time went on.

The first few months at Smith Rock were cold and I was in search of my stoke. I found myself getting on top-rope and feeling terrified; it was as if I had never climbed a day in my life. I would cry and question whether or not I had made the right choice to drop my entire life and live this way. How would I ever be a guide if I couldn't even climb on top-rope?  That was my entire idea on why I wanted to give up everything and move to the park wasn't it?

Climbing was not fun anymore. I felt that I had lost myself and that I couldn't find the previous years stoke.  I would get on rock with the fear, it would take over every ounce of my being. Begging and pleading with Paul to let me come down. The negativity flowed over me, I couldn't find anything to be thankful for and my depression swept over me. 

I couldn't deal. How is it that I loved something so much and now it felt like the worst thing in the world to me? I struggled, but I was surrounded by the most amazing people who were also long term residents at the Smith Rock Bivy. We had structure with our morning yoga routines, Albert would play John Mayer songs while we searched for motivation to climb, Brian and Matt would smoke themselves silly while contemplating mysteries of the world, and I would perfect my culinary skills on the Coleman Camp Stove. I worked three days a week at a bar in town as a bartender to keep some sort of income.

In July, I finally started feeling like myself again. 

It was time to get back on lead, so I started working Nine Gallon Buckets (5.10) and was making progress and feeling strong. I found myself scared on lead when climbing the fourth bolt, and that's when I decided I needed to take the fall. What was I so scared of? I had already had the worst thing happen last year with my grounder and the injury to my ankle. I let go of fear in that moment and fell. It was a 20 foot whip, but little did I know the injury that was in store for me. My right middle finger pulley would pay the price for my fall. It was freeing when I fell, letting go, and telling myself that I would be okay. Unfortunately for me, pulley injuries take a lot of time to heal.

The negative consumed me again. I couldn't climb. Pulling down on my finger killed.

Paul Jantzi enjoying one of his favorite activities in his living room at the Smith Rock Bivy. (Photo by Laura Berridge)

Just when I started to feel better about climbing and started to let go, I found myself hurt, again. I felt like it was the universe telling me to give up climbing. Why did I push myself to do such a stupid activity I thought? Why did I give up everything to do nothing? I could not get into the mountains because the fires shut down the Sisters Wilderness. All the people I knew in Washington were crushing it. We didn't have the fund to travel and climb. My job barely covered our bills and Paul guiding was so unreliable. I felt stuck, I questioned every choice, and thought about coming back to Washington all the time. 

In August, I started helping out with the big groups for Smith Rock Climbing Guides. It was official, I never would be a guide.  We had also saved just enough to take a week long trip to Washington. We had a permit to camp up in the Enchantments at Stuart Lake with Sherpa Peak in mind and considered the West Ridge of Stuart (which I had figured was off the table with my low confidence and feelings about climbing).This was the trip I needed.

We spent our entire trip detached from everyone and everything. Our relationship had been hard, we struggled, you know how hard it is to adjust to living with someone 24.7?  We felt home again, we slept at the Barney's Rubble Parking Lot where we had so many nights the previous summer, swam at our spot on the river, and swooned over the granite that we had missed so much. 

When it was time for our trip up to Stuart Lake, I was terrified. All I had done that past summer was hike the park, so I was feeling like I was going to be the weak link. We loaded up our climbing gear and headed up. My pack was heavy, but nothing seemed so bad. All that I loved and missed was right in front of me. We danced when we found our perfect camping spot, enjoyed some sips of whiskey,  and went over the plan for Sherpa Peak the next morning. 

We woke up before 4am to find ominous skies and rain. Instead of type 2 fun, we would be settling for a hike up to Colchuck Lake. I wasn't even mad because we had experienced so much happiness. We got back down to the car around dinner time. That's when Paul said that we should attempt the West Ridge of Stuart on our last few days. I was reluctant and afraid, but he said he knew I could do it. So we packed for the next day. The conditions were perfect, we had the creek campsites to ourselves, we woke up the next morning to realize that this was happening.  We followed our BETA and enjoyed a rockfall filled climb. We decided to go light and fast because we did not want to have to bivy and had a turnaround time at 3pm. At 2:15pm, we realized that somewhere we had gone the wrong way and found ourselves on the opposite side of the summit (about 800ft below). I was heartbroken, but accepted that was our summit for the day.

The descent took over 8 hours, it was full of rusty pitons, tree rappels, and avoiding getting taken out by rockfall. By the time we had made it back to our tent I was delirious and exhausted. We didn't make dinner that night and just ate all of our snacks. The trek out the next morning was exhausting and I was happy to sleep in a real bed that evening. At first, I felt sad about not making the summit. My entire year felt like a failure and I believed I was a failure. Living at Smith Rock surrounded by crushers and watching my friends in Washington climb big alpine objectives left me wanting more. 

The realization happened shortly after we returned to the park. Daily cragging isn't my passion, it's the type 2 alpine climbing that is what makes me feel alive. I use to spend all of my time comparing myself to all these people at the park who were crushing all these hard routes. Then I realized that the majority of these people would not find enjoyment out of hiking 40 miles in a few days with 40-50 pound packs to be rained out or shut down by navigation issues. 

I pushed through until September, headed to Washington for the month of October to make money for our move to Boise. I was able to get back into my routine of Hot Yoga and got to check off some hikes in the area. Struggling with the idea that maybe I wasted 7 months of my life. What was I doing with my life?  

I have been in Boise, Idaho for two months now.  And you don't know what you really have until it is gone.  I miss Smith Rock, I cried the day we left. Smith Rock would never be home again, I would never feel the same. Nothing can explain how beautiful the evening ski filled with starts and the shadows of the rock towers makes you feel. How being in this situation changed my life. I am not even close to the same person that I was a year ago. All those things I thought I needed when we moved there? Yeah, I did not need any of them. It doesn't take much to make me happy.  

The moral of the story? All those people who kicked ass on their goals this year, congratulations. Sometimes it's not accomplishing the objectives that really makes you grow. I was forced out of my element, to see what life is really made of, and to grow. To look my demons square in the face and say this is me.

Goals for 2018?

I have them, but I don't have my heart set on anything (okay, except for finally sitting on the summit of Mount Stuart).  I am still a hopeless wanderer and probably will even as I turn into an old lady. I'll be focusing on gaining some ski skills, ice climbing, yoga, and loving/accepting myself.  I'll start school to continue my education in Fall 2018 at Western Washington University. I think history and  teaching has always been my true passion. With this career change I'll be able to make a positive impact on kiddos, but be able to have the flexibility to do the things I love. Paul had made a pretty big change of plans over the past few weeks and I am very excited for him.We both know Western Washington is home and are excited for our own place in the coming months closer to our friends and the mountains we love so much. 

I don't regret a thing from this year.  It's the things we don't do that we regret most in our life and I have grown so much from 2017. Here is to another amazing year.

Until the next adventure.

Tips for Living with Depression

It is that time of the year, where the days get shorter and we find our daylight limited. I call this time of year, the wait period. Waiting for the ice to get nice, the ski resorts to open, avoiding avalanche danger and  the downpour of rain the mountains offer. Yeah, it's basically the time of year I dread the most, because my depression seems to kick into high gear. After a rough year that kicked off its reign last November,  I decided I was no longer going to be a prison to my depression. 

I decided to be brutally honest with myself and re-examine the things that help me live a happier, healthy life.  I am no expert and never will claim to be. But I want to share what it is I do to be the best me I can be throughout the winter and anytime of the year.  

1. Acknowledge How You Feel/ Self-Awarness:

It is okay to look in the mirror and say, " I am not fine today." Being able to acknowledge where you are at, but not beating yourself over your emotions. It is okay to say, I am depressed and that does not define who I am. For me, I try to hold myself accountable for self-scans of my mind and body. The number one way I do this is with my yoga practice. I go to class 2 to 3 times a week to stay in tune. When I feel a certain way I feel it, I acknowledge the presence of the feeling. There is something empowering about being able to sit with your feelings and say, I am feeling this way and that is okay.

2. Friendship

Having friends that you can talk to and be there for you when you are not feeling too hot is very important. People who love you no matter what. It has also become a personal rule to not drag my support system down with negativity (or myself). Your friends hold you accountable when you feel like you cannot fight the depression alone.

3. Working Out

I make it a point to include cardio in my weekly routine. Sometimes it's just jumping on the stationary bike or row machine for 30 minutes. But most of the time it's going to a group class that pushes me and makes me work hard. Trust me, most of the time I would rather go straight home and crawl into bed after a long work day, but I feel so much better about myself after a work out.

4. Going Outside

I feel like this is a no brainer, but for me, it is probably the hardest one. It's COLD, and I don't like being cold, and I don't like getting rained on. Recently, I have made "getting outside" apart of my routine 4-5 days a week with my bike/walk routine. I get 15-30 minutes to and from work to be with my thoughts. To notice the beauty of the world around me, like cute squirrels or the changing of the colors of leaves. When the sun is out, even if I have only an hour, I make myself go hiking. Even if it's the local hiking spot. When I have a full day, I do everything to do a bigger hike.

5. Setting Small Goals

I am guilty, guilty of obsessing over the big mountains, the big picture. Recently, I have slowed down. Realized that small goals get you to the big goals. Maybe it's getting in a certain amount of mileage on the trails, having a route at the climbing gym as a project, or one winter goal. For me, that winter goal is becoming a decent skier.

6. Healthy Eating

We are what we eat. Yeah, it's cliche, but it works for me. I get lazy, it's easy to eat pizza, fast food, and out a lot when I do not want to cook. At the end of the day, what I put in the body has a lot to do with how I view my body. I put crappy food into it, I feel pretty crappy about myself. The thing that has worked best for me is cutting meat and processed food out of my diet. I've even made it a point to ensure that lunch and dinner are Vegan meals. It's amazing how little you crave bad food when you are eating healthy, yummy food.

7. Positive Self Talk

I have said some pretty terrible things about myself. Looked in the mirror and picked out ever imperfection. But you know what, that isn't good for me. I often repeat a few times a day, " I am capable, I am smart, and I am strong." I try not to let myself bad mouth me. I look in the mirror and focus on the positives that make me great. I don't allow myself to say things about myself that I would not say about my friends. 

8. Routine

Sounds funny right? But working and having a routine helps me to keep my life in check. I am not consumed with my thoughts and I don't have a ton of free time to feel sorry for myself. I work a schedule that doesn't change very often. I have certain yoga and gym classes that I go to every week. In my opinion, we all crave a little bit of routine.

These are all just suggestions, but they have really helped me. I know that things will always be changing, but I hope by following along with these things I will be a better healthier me.

Part 4

Gratitude

Photo By Laura Berridge

I was consumed once. Consumed by everything I thought I needed to be happy.

The past is a funny place, especially when the present is completely different. I remember being a little girl and feeling alone. Feeling like I did not belong, that I would never find my way. My adult life was not much different. The desire to be accepted and loved consumed me. I thought that the more things I had, the happier I would be. Does the "stuff" really make me happy?

Nine months ago, I felt noble. Noble because I was strong enough to sell all of my material items and condense my life down to nine boxes to store at my parents house. Everything I needed was packed into my car. My dad and boyfriend, Paul spent 6 hours the day before we took of to Smith Rock State Park making us a build out to better utilize our space. I kept thinking about all the stuff we still needed to "be happy" on our adventure. I kept wondering how we would be able to make it without certain items.

As it turns out, we did not need much to keep us happy. In hindsight, I can say, how lucky was I to spend the past 7 months living out of my tent and car? It was hard, I won't lie. Adjusting to my new life was very challenging. Now, I miss it.

I miss so much.

Brian and Matt. Their messy table at the bivy and their acceptance of who I am.

Albert and his extravagant breakfast. His dog, Hana's attitude and focus on catching any small animal she could get her paws on.

David's genie pants.

The party we had up at Skull Hallow where I was convinced that Q and Michael were a little to obsessed with the axe. I still giggle at Brian almost lighting himself on fire telling us all that he wasn't wet from the rain because he was dry by the fire.

Meeting the self-proclaimed "God" who had probably done way to much LSD to not believe it.

Albert playing my favorite songs on guitar.

Mandy's perfectly planned out days.

Alec's breakfast company and innocent giggle.

Walking to our tent with all of Smith lit up by the moonlight.

Sunsets.

The guy who knocked on people's tent claiming to be "Forest Service" and telling us to leave because we overstayed the 14 day limit at the bivy.

Kyle's banter at the picnic table and frequent flatulence.

Tony's emotional rollercoaster life. (He was the guy with the lifted van that said "Meaner than a junkyard dog" and played his music too loud)

Stan, Linda, and Bogey taking such good care of us when the smoke and heat were too much to bear.

Our bivy crew yoga.

Paul reading aloud to me in the tent while the sky was lit up.

All those things I think I needed, I didn't. What I really needed was to grow and change. I got lost for a while, consumed by things that did not serve me. I went into the experience with the expectation to become the best climber I could be. Really, I am coming out becoming the best human being I can possibly be. I was changed by the bivy crew. They forced me to look deeper into myself.  

The world around me has become a different place. I use to be consumed by what others were doing. Now, I find myself focused on improving myself and my personal relationships. Now as the holidays roll around, I find myself wondering what I could really need? 

I have so much gratitude for the things I already have. 

The experience of living out of my car and tent for 7 months is something I am still trying to fully understand. I have all the love I could want, all the things that I need (although, some new skis and mountaineering boots would be nice), and friends that I will have for a lifetime. 

As we start the season of consumerism. I challenge everyone to count all the things you have that money can't buy. 

And to the bivy crew.

I love you all.

Part Three

Part Three:  Social Media

You have no business on that route.

  

She only climbs to be cool.

Did you do that just for the picture?

Do you even really climb?

All of these things echoed throughout my mind constantly while I was at Smith Rock this season.  I felt like I had some much pressure to climb hard, all of my friends were leading and climbing all these amazing mountains.

 And me? I was endlessly scrolling through my Instagram feed, jealous. Jealous that I was not doing things that others were. I could not get out of my funk. Climbing use to be something that brought me so much happiness, it was my escape. Here I was, I sold all my belongings and was living out of my car. But I did not even want to do the thing that I had quit society for. The insecurity that I felt about my climbing did not make it fun. As a typical millennial, I believed that there were so many expectations for me to climb hard, even I thought I should be climbing hard. 

Honestly, I never really know how to respond when someone sends me a message asking me to climb with them. Apologizing for not being on my level, are you kidding me "my level"? The last 6 months, my level has equaled absolutely no stoke or drive to climb. The fact was that every time I felt the slightest bit of stoke I would get discourage, scared, or injured. 

Words that often came out of my mouth when leaving the park:

Do I even like climbing?

I think I am just going to quit climbing.

Maybe I made a huge mistake.

And the let's not forget about the tears.

Was everyone right? Did I actually have no business living this lifestyle? Was I a fraud? I felt sad, angry, and lost. I missed the mountains (sorry Oregon, Washington mountains have my heart), my friends, and granite. Everyone on social media seemed to be living these perfect lives with their successful summits. I felt everyone was growing, while I was falling behind.  I made no secret of my dislike to Smith Rock to the locals. To be honest, I just did not like myself. I became obsessed with Instagram and how lame my life seemed to be.  

Yeah, I know right? I was living the adventure, but my life was lame.  That is the shitty thing about depression, it does not care where you are in life to strike. I had all these goals for myself for last season, I wanted to climb more mountains and become a strong climber. Let me tell you something that sucks, when you are a strong climber, but your mind just won't allow it. 

But I really believed all those negative things that people said to me via social media. I hated pictures of myself. I was uncomfortable with my upper body, my shoulders and arms seemed to bulk up.  Why didn't I look like the girls I saw plastered all over the internet?  Why wasn't I as good as them?

Yeah, I know what the guys are thinking right now. Stop looking at the internet and stop caring. Wish I could have, but sometimes that is just not how your mind works.  After I few months, I started to get out of my funk. I got back on lead on a 5.10, was feeling strong.

I am strong.

I am confident.

I am capable.

Finally, I was believing it. The sharp end has a funny way of dealing with confidence. I took a 20 foot whipper and injured my pulley in the process. Wow, that was a blow. I was just starting to like this climbing thing again, and there it is, injured.  The self-hate sunk in again.  All I wanted was to find my sparkle again.

Let me tell you, the mountains are therapy.

We took a trip to The Enchantments and Mount Stuart in August. Exactly what the doctor ordered. We had a permit for an evening in the Enchantments and intended to climb Sherpa Peak. It was an amazing hike, perfect sunset, temperatures, and I felt connected to myself and Paul again. We awoke to rain that more, Sherpa Peak would have to wait. But the hike up to Colchuck Lake that afternoon was relaxing. 

 After a lovely two days in the Enchantments, we returned to Leavenworth for the night and Paul convinced me that we should try for the West Ridge of Stuart. All the thoughts of self doubt rushed in, I heard all the people who doubted me in my mind. This would also be the first time Paul and I would do  a big objective together.  This was my mountain, I wanted it bad. The first time I thought this was possible was two years ago, but I didn't want to sufferfest so I opted to turn around at Long's Pass to avoid rain/snow. Last year, I let my head, other people, and an injury get in my way. This mountain and I had unfinished business.  Paul and I really lucked out on this trip, weather was perfect. The hike in to Ingalls Creek was enjoyable and I although we had longed a lot of mileage we still were laughing and in high spirits. Opting to go fast and light, we left before daylight that morning, we had discussed a turnaround time, and felt pretty good as we started up the route.  

As the day went on, I remembered who I was. That I was capable, confident, and this was my element. Why had I listened so much and compared myself to others so often?  Sure, lots of people can climb hard at Smith Rock and that is awesome. But I am not sure how many people would willingly wear a forty pound pack on an approach (we had logged well over 35 miles over 4 days) and what we love to do is not everyone's idea of fun. As we approached what we thought were the 3 class ledges, I felt that the summit was finally going to happen. Sadly, the common thing that happens on the West Ridge is navigation errors. We had taken one wrong turn, it was 2:15, our turn around time was 3. There was no way that we would make it to the summit within 45 minutes. The climbing part did not take us long at all, but we knew the descent would be miserable. We had dealt with falling rock the enter way up and were thankful we were the only ones on the route. 

Getting down took 8 hours, I was delusional by the time we got to camp. Of course, I was disappointed that we did not make it to the summit. But I was exhausted, we stuffed our faces with snacks and passed out fast. The next morning, I was exhausted. Paul is a saint for dealing with my cranky attitude for the first hour on the hike out. My shoulders hurt, heavy packs aren't very forgiving. 

The trip to Washington was what I needed. Although I did not get the summits I thought I needed. I got what I needed, I was reminded of my love for the outdoors and climbing. The realization that I did not like cragging came shortly after, and guess what, I am okay with that. I kind of have a rule now, if I am not feeling the climbing that is okay. I am still spending time with my friends, and that is all that matters. The benefits of this trip were too many to count, but I was really happy to know that Paul and I were able to make excellent alpine partners. 

And you know what? All summer I was so obsessed with how lame my summer was compared to others on Social Media. I stopped caring. I stopped caring about how if I posted pictures from this trip if anyone would make a snarky comment about not reaching the summit, I stopped caring about how I looked, because I felt like the best me was coming back.

Sure, I had about a month and a half left at Smith Rock, but I didn't take it so seriously. We all only get one shot and no one cares what I am doing. And if they really want to make their rude and snarky comments what do I care? Their lives must be pretty lame if they want to worry about me.

I guess what I am trying to say is, since my Instagram has started to grow, I have noticed how others (and sometimes myself) can get really competitive about what you are climbing. To be honest, I stopped caring what others are doing, nor do I really care. The outdoors is the "cool" thing to do right now, which makes me sad that others may be missing out on the experience. I've been there, it sucks to miss out on the experience.  

My rant is basically this. 

BE YOU. Nobody else can do it.

BE SAFE. Make good judgement calls, do not rush into doing something you aren't prepared for the worst case scenario. Rope Rescue and Crevasse Rescue, those life saving skills to have.

BE PREPARED. Know that things can go wrong. And although you may be a 5.12 climber,  Class 4 & 5 feels a lot different than the alpine.

REMIND YOURSELF OF WHY YOU ARE DOING IT. If you are thinking about your Instagram pictures before you even get there, you may be doing it for the wrong reason.

PUT DOWN THE PHONE.  Just seriously, put it down. Who cares what so and so is doing.

And last, NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR WHO YOU ARE. You are enough and if someone wants to make you feel like you aren't screw them.

part 2

Photo Credit: Cliff Birdsall

How is it that I was still so self conscious at Smith Rock?

Leaving Seattle was freeing.

I was sick of the high school atmosphere. Now, in hindsight, I wonder if society's addiction to social media has contributed to the high school vibe. I cut ties with many. I can't stand people who are fake and once you have hurt me, I usually walk away.

Trust me, I know I can be harsh.

Although, I felt let down by many in my younger years. I was blind sighted by the person I considered my best friend two years ago. I had just gone through a break-up with the man I thought I was going to marry.  I had got into hiking and joined an outdoor women's forum. I did not really have tons a friends, but who am I kidding? I have never been a girl with a ton of close friends. Friendships to me are sacred and I am very picky about who I let in my life. I met Kay on a group hike up Mount Saint Helens, we didn't instantly click, but she had a very similar schedule to mine. With schedules that matched we hiked.

I had prided myself that I spent 27 years covering up who I was. Damn, I did a good job of never showing anyone who I was. But I wanted to be real, I wanted real friendships. With that, I decided to open up and just be me with Kay. I was a slow hiker and very inexperienced, Kay was always willing to go hike with me. Kay was awkward, funny, and seemed to genuinely want to be my friend. Being friends with females has been difficult throughout my whole life, since I am very closed off emotionally. 

First, I want to be clear, I have been a bitch. I have been mean to many people, most unintentionally but sometimes intentionally. There was a friend who I called a bitch because she ditched me after I took a weekend off to go to Portland and she ditched me to go climb Rainier with my friends. Harsh? Yes, but I wasn't willing to be a doormat anymore. That girl still hates me and tells people that don't know me that I am a terrible person. Yes, I was pretty terrible to call her a bitch.

But back to the story.

Kay and I became fast friends, best friends. We hiked 2-3 days a week, shared our deepest darkest secrets, and honestly, I thought she was going to be my best friend until I was six feet under. I felt like I finally had a friend that knew me, for just me. No lies, no pretending, no keeping her at an arms length. She was my chosen family, but things started to get weird. Kay seemed to get jealous if  I had any other friends. It was weird how she would act when I started getting close to another girl, Lindy.
Kay would do everything in her power to make sure she could hang out with us, and almost would invite herself to hang out. I didn't think much of it at the time, and never really understood why she would say such mean things about my other friends. She made it clear that she didn't care about these people because she was my friend. 

I would always meet people on Instagram to hike, Kay had the nerve to call one girl a "fan girl" who just wanted to hang out with us because we took great pictures. I didn't really understand this, and would never think this of someone. Sad thing, she told this girl that I was the one who said this about her and the two are now close friends.

Kay was uncomfortable with the men I dated, they were always terrible people. One day, she even told me that my aunt was too  controlling in my life. My aunt, my best friend, and my biggest support system. But she was my friend, and I figured it was all in my best interest.

I still vividly remember the last two weeks of our friendship. My schedule had really changed and
I was not able to hang out with Kay as much as we use to. Typing this now, I really get the creeps, like single white female creeps. My friend, Emily and I had been hiking and rock climbing a lot together. Emily and I wanted to go catch the tulip festival in Skagit County. Kay had asked me what I was up to after she got off work, and I let her know. She insisted on coming, she had arranged with Emily to come with us. Kay got off too late, and we missed the festival. It was disturbing how  I could sense that she did not want me to hang out with Emily alone. Like a jealous boyfriend.

A few months prior, Kay had gone to a hot springs with a very close male friend of mine, Clay.  I had trusted Clay with my life and he had been nothing but supportive and there for me. When Kay returned from the Hot Springs, she immediately contacted me saying that Clay had made her feel uncomfortable and had taken advantage of her with nude photos. I instantly went into friend mode, telling Clay how horrible he was. Being a victim of sexual assault myself I couldn't stand for a friend being treated this way.

Those months, Kay, unraveled. She became possesive of our friendship, I watched her behave inappropriately with men who were not her boyfriend, and watched her behavior in a hot tub that seemed similar to the inappropriate behavior she said Clay had. Things were not adding up. She messaged me one morning about how her dad was mad at her for not going to a Bernie Sanders event. It was all about how she couldn't understand why her dad was mad at her for not going to an event that she had known about for a month. I told her that her dad was probably really hurt.

It got really weird. Kay asked me why I didn't love her, and saying things that you would say to your significant other. I had never given Kay the impression that we had anything but friendship. I am not into girls. That night, she came over with her boyfriend to hang out with Emily and my roommates. Things seem to go fine, until the next morning she told me she needed a break and I was not giving her the love she needed. I was freaked out, and things seem to not be right. The lies where starting to unfold. It was like a slap in the face, I trusted her, and she lied.

It took me a while to realize that her elaborate story about Clay probably wasn't the truth. I sucked up my pride, and reached out. I felt awful, in my gut, I knew Kay had lied. Clay was so angry with me. Truth was Kay had asked Clay to take some tasteful images of her at the hot springs. She had told Emily and I that she had only removed her top and Clay had creepily taken photos of her when she was unsuspecting. Weird thing is, all the photos I saw of the day after talking with Clay were of Kay completely naked, smiling, and posing. Clay let me know that Kay had taken an edible and drank whiskey that day, she was a mess, and at one point she was falling asleep. He took her to dinner before dropping her off at her car, how could someone terrified for their life suggest dinner? ]

Then, the lies about me started to spill out. Kay said that I had taken advantage of financially. Saying she paid for everything when we went out hiking. I had given Kay a $20 often for driving to hikes,
I would pay for her to eat, and even paying for her to climb at the gym here and there. The shocker, she had told Clay that her and I had discussed being together. What the fuck? Never had I thought of her like that, or had we even discussed being together. But apparently, in her story we talked about it and it was something I didn't want.

WOW.

Gutted.

How could the first person that I let in as a friend do this? How could I be so stupid to trust them? Now, she still spreads her lies about me--what a user I am and the terrible things I say about people. The funny thing is, the terrible things that she usually says I said are what came out of her mouth. I am blunt, there is no talking about others behind their backs in my world.  Her elaborate story about Clay? Well, that's evolved into him drugging her and taking advantage of her. Straight up lies.

I have been so mad.
I have been so angry.

But I am sick of it. I am ready to release this pain that this person caused me.

Sure, this may not seem relevant to my story.  But it is so pivotal in shaping who I am and my experience. The loss of her in life was a huge blow. It felt like a total lie and was the ultimate shock. I was ready to let people in and this hurt. Friends aren't suppose to do these things.

This is something that I have hung on to. I took it with me to Smith Rock and lashed out at people who were just victims of my hurt. For a long time, I felt as if everyone had bad intentions. What's hurt the most is my friends who I introduced to Kay are now close friends with her.

I can only image what lies have been told to them. Tears that I have shed have been too many to count. How could I be so lied to and hurt, yet I was losing my friends. People acted like it was a silly fight, but friends don't say the things she said. Or deliberately hurt people the way she has. Or lie the way she does.

Showing up at Smith, all my emotions came back.  Maybe I was a bad person and everyone would see right through me.

People may think that this is completely inappropriate to post. Yes, I have changed the names out of respect, but this is my story, my truth. I am sick of the lies she tells, how she plays the innocent person, and has hurt people.

Most of all. I am tired. Tired of carrying this burden with me.

By writing this, I am letting go. Letting go of my anger, because I am better than that. I am not a bad person and I have a big heart. I treat the people in my life with respect. If you so desire to disrespect my friendship by believing these lies and want to disrespect me by choosing her friendship that's on you. It has hurt to lose every one of you, but in the end you weren't my friends. I feel bad for those who have  believed the lies and haven't gotten to know me.

And that's what I had to face a Smith right away. Letting go of my hurt and letting people in again.

Part One

 

 

 

 

Writing has been my outlet since I was a young child. It has been the way I have privately documented my pain and struggles. I have always kept notebooks to express myself and to put into words the aloneness, rejection, and depression that have been a burden that seemed too much to bear at times.

 

I spent most of middle and high school being bullied. My confidence was shot and I spent most of my time at school hunched over my desk, leaving me an easy target. Most of my classmates called me the hunchback. It destroyed me inside and made me want to hide even more. I never told my parents or anyone about the nickname. My pain was covered by my goofiness and not to serious attitude. I wasn't a drinker or smoker, my parents didn't have tons of money, and I lacked the emotional support I craved. Growing up, it was emotions that made you weak, and I never wanted appear weak to the outsider. It was important that I buried myself, not letting anything "real" about me show. Nobody could hurt me if I never let them in.

 

As a 31-year-old woman, I look back at my youth, It is heartbreaking, to see the girl who distanced herself from most. I spent most of my weekends locked in my room listening to music and writing. Dreaming of the person I wanted to be. Happy moments in my childhood don't jump out like they do for most. I loved spending time camping with my grandparents and with my aunt, these were the places I could hide and be myself. The world didn't seem to be able to rip me apart in these safe places.

 

I'm not sure if I am ready to talk about my abandonment and self-worth issues comfortably yet. My biological father never was in my life, nor has he ever made too much of an effort. I think my Mom saw a lot of him in me, causing her to resent me. I felt like an outsider often in my own mixed family and lacked direction. For the record, I love my mother and I know she did the best she did.

 

But I was self destructive, things that I now look back on and grasp to understand continue to haunt me. Spending my senior year and my two years out of high school with a boy who was physically and emotionally abusive still baffles my mind. It took me until about two years ago to admit to the fact that he had at one point raped me. After the break-up, I spent the next few years drinking heavily and making choices that still make me wonder why? Often, the only thing I thought I could control was my weight, which turned into an eating disorder. And money?  It's only now that I am beginning to try to get my life on the track of making good financial decisions, my credit is destroyed.  

 

My health is something that never I can seem to get on track, at 19, doctor's found two lime sized ovarian cysts and a tumor in my left ovary. Since, I have had two other surgeries. At 23, I learned that I would never physically be able to get pregnant and have my own children. The affects on my mental health are embarrassing, if I thought my depression and anxiety could be bad, just add in a flair up of my endometriosis.  I deal with pain management often and have had to deal with the fact that my near future does involve the removal of my uterus and ovaries. But the pain is not the worst symptom, to feel like a victim of your body. Especially, when you live an active lifestyle.

 

Wow. Okay, that was heavy. 

 

Life is not perfect. God, how I know that. 

 

This isn't a sympathy posting. This is my life, and writing is my therapy.

 

My Instagram used to be the lies of who I was, pictures that had no real value or meaning. Three years ago, I deleted everything off my handle that weren't true to who I am. I vowed to be as honest as possible with my postings. No, I won't lie to you, I have used tags and hashtags to help market myself, but I do it to help more see my journey just in case it helps someone. Someone who is probably suffering in silence. You see, it's the people who you don't expect that are probably suffering the most.

 

Okay, now you are thinking, why the hell is she sharing all of this back story?

 

I am sharing this because it is a part of my journey.

 

I have been having a tough go of it this Spring and Summer. I feel like a failure. These grand plans to move to Smith Rock and become "Alpine As Fuck" seem to have not gone that way. Truly, I thought I wanted to be a guide and thought it could translate into a non-profit.

 

I don't want to guide, that is what I do know after this season.

 

Climbing became more of a chore for me while living at the bivy for the past 6 months. Yes, I lived at the Smith Rock Campground and Skull Hollow for the past 6 months. I feel back into self-hatred the first few months. Thoughts that plagued my mind: I am too fat, too out of shape, not good enough, and everyone knows what a joke you are.  My endometriosis and depression have been a struggle since before I left Seattle, like a bad habit, I covered it up.

 

Hiking into the park the first few months were a struggle. I was self conscious, everyone was so much better than I am. Did I really have any business even being here? Why is it the one thing that once brought me such happiness and joy was now feeling shameful and embarrassing? I cried, a lot. Paul, felt helpless in his attempts to comfort me. I considered getting in my car more times then I  can remember those first few months. I felt as if I didn't fit in and everyone could see what a phony I was.

 

Who am I?

 

Really, I am asking myself this again.

 

 

(to be continued....)



 

What I Think They Were Trying To Say. . .

    

Three Days No Shower, and I am okay with being imperfect. Photo Credit: Paul Jantzi

 

Okay Ladies, we've all been either ranting about or applauding certain accounts on social media.  We question the authenticity of certain females and wonder if they are really following the notion of #liveauthentic.

     Yeah, you know what I am talking about. Those articles that target some pretty elite instafamous ladies. The most notable articles were featured by @tetongravity and most recently,@missadventuresmag. These articles have us drawing our battle lines. Any of us would be lying if we didn't admit to judging the perfectly coifed hair and editorial shots on notable Instagram accounts.  We hide behind our smartphones saying incredibly judgmental and hurtful comments.

    Is this really judgment or jealous? And is it fair? It isn't fair. Human nature is bringing to light our own insecurities and jealous. These rad ladies are just as human and imperfect as all of us. They just are able to market themselves a little bit better than the rest of us. Social media has opened the flood gates to have high school follow us into adulthood.  Should high school popularity and bullying really ever be acceptable?

    To be fair, Instagram is not about authenticity. It is about the picture. How many of you can honestly say you've read the print below the picture before double clicking the crap out of an image? It is the beauty of a picture that has all of us loving it and adding the place to our never ending bucket list. 

   Deep breaths.

   This shouldn't be a shocker, but as women we live in a society where we feel we must look and be a certain way. The social media collective magnifies this even more. Just like the generation before us compared themselves to the Cindy Crawford and Kate Moss types, we are comparing ourselves to notable IGers. 

    Now, let us say it out loud, " We are jealous and insecure." You can deny it all you want, but yeah, your jealous. Sure, I wish I could have perfect hair after a day in the mountains, but that's usually not the case. Also, can we please all accept the fact that we are women? It is okay to wear or not wear make up. You are already out there being a badass, and its okay to do the things that make you feel good while doing. No one should be shamed for that.

     There is only one concern that I really ever have for these famous grammars, and it is losing touch of the experience. I have done this myself where I feel like I have to get the best shot for my social media, which is stupid. I have witnessed a friend cry because she did not feel pretty and did not get the shot she wanted. Why? Why consume ourselves with these pictures? Instead consume ourselves with the moment. In ten years, no one will care how cool you were on IG. Case and point, MySpace.

     So, why do we as women continue to be incredibly brutal to the same sex? I have not seen any articles focusing on the authenticity of famous male igers. Their photos are just as staged, yet we say nothing. In turn, is it okay for men to have the perfect shot, but not women?

   Here is the challenge to myself and other women, We have all judged others harshly and been judged harshly. It is time to separate our thoughts from thinking that "reality" is social media. Stop the snarky comments behind one others back. Work on accepting that we are all different, don't hide behind your phone and laptop. We aren't going to like everyone in our lives, and that's okay. We don't need to say negative things or trash talk. If something bothers you say something. Bette to speak your peace then get angry from never saying anything. Empowered women, empower women, Cliché I know, but it is the truth. Ganging up on authors isn't much better either. Embrace who you are and go with it. Wave your freak flag and be proud of who you are. There is only one you, one lifetime. We've all been judged and there are constant misconceptions floating around out there.

     My thoughts in closing,  (and remember these are just my thoughts) who am I to question someone else's commitment, authenticity, and love of the outdoors? Instgram is  place where we decide what we do and do not share. Pretty pictures are just pretty pictures. It is no concern of mine or yours if someone is #authentic.

    So what I think what they were really trying to say, the authors of these controversial articles, is Instagram is just Instagram. Do not compare yourself to everyone whether it is what they look like, how hard they climb, or how cool they look. We have to break these bad habits after lifetimes of self-hate and the constant need to compare ourselves to everyone. Love and support each other. Life is hard and the microscope of social media is making it harder to not pick out our flaws and each others. Why make life even harder?

    Next time you find yourself judging someone else, ask yourself why you are really feeling that way. Embrace you, we are all beautiful. Enjoy the journey.

Here Goes Nothing.

Processing emotions has never been a strong suit of mine.

As I sit here, typing this on the comfort on the blow up mattress that has recently replaced my bed, I struggle to find the words for how I am feeling.

Seven short weeks, that is all I have left in Western Washington.

I signed my name to my last rent check less than a week ago. I have sold the majority of my possessions, only a few remain, but they too will soon be gone.  Trying to fit my life into a few boxes to store with my family has been nostalgic. I have had waves of emotion wash over me, pictures of past boyfriends, glimpses of a girl who I barely recognize, and the realization that everything is about to change.

Deciding that my life was going this direction seemed like a no-brainer last year when I told my friend, Erin, that I craved more out of life and knew that Washington wasn't providing it for me anymore. We were up on Mountain Loop Highway, it was a rainy day, and we didn't get in any hiking, but we did get in some entertaining photos. Afterwards, I proclaimed to social media that I was giving myself six months to sell everything I owned and travel. It's been a little over six months, and I am making good on my promise.

The world is always tossing and turning. Throwing you a few curveballs along the way, things that you swore would never happen. Little did I know, that my second failed attempt on Mount Stuart would put someone important in my life.  Happily single, I did everything in my power to not fall for Paul. Paul was everything that I promised I would never get serious about, a bit younger than me, dedicated dirtbag, working only enough to support his climbing habit, I knew he had to be bad news.  Or so I thought.

Paul, as it turns out, has been a pivotal part of helping me to recover from the mental effects of my fall this past summer. He also sees me as an equal, although he crushes 5.12 in Yosemite, he has never made me feel like I have to apologize for being myself, he accepts my imperfections and supports me ever step of the way.  Trust me, I am not an easy person to get to know, I protect myself very well. I am not sure where our journey will take us, but it is nice having someone to share the moments with.

Friends, true friends, are hard to find. Lucky for me, I also get to head to Smith Rock with an amazingly strong woman. It is funny how the universe sends people your way, just like the song. You don't always get what you want, you get what you need.

Sure, I still question my choices, almost everyday.

Often, when I find myself reflecting, it is like a flash, where I think of people who rocked me to my very core. Emotions are funny like that, there are two people who stand out in my mind. I often think of them, the impact they made on me. Neither of them are really apart of my life, one I spent an entire year pining over, wishing that I was good enough. He introduced me to the alpine, it changed my life. Perhaps, that is why it took so long for me to let go of the idea of him because I associated so much of my love of climbing with him. Ultimately, I have realized he collects women and when he is finished quickly disposes of them.

Smith was key to my evolution, I spent two weeks there this summer. I met so many amazing people, that I will forever hold close in my heart, but the one who stands out, will never know how much he influenced me. I think of him often, although we spent little time together, and he will hold a special place in my heart for a long time.

We can't be afraid to self-reflect or be afraid to care so deeply. It is what makes us beautiful.

I have no clue what I am doing, but I do know I have never felt more sure about anything in my life. There is no roadmap to how any of us are supposed to live this life. No manual that tells us how to live. All we can really do is follow our hearts.

I am terrified, but have never felt more sure about anything in my life.

Sometime, the best plan to have, is not to have a plan.

I'll spend my Spring and Summer at Smith Rock. After that, I am not sure. I would love to travel for a while, but  I do know that a little money is needed for that. Helping others is very important to me. I hope to work towards my personal goals and make those things a little bit more of a reality in the coming year.

I only have this life.

This life is mine to live. No one else is going to do it for me.

So here goes nothing.

Until the next adventure.