Posts tagged Adventure
Re-Writing Your Story: On Making That Change, Cultivating New Dreams, and What Falls In between

When I go to write about something, whether it be a place, an adventure, experience, or what have you, it’s never about the sights I took in or logistical details, it’s the feeling. It’s where I find myself emotionally. It’s what comes up as I pack my bags—the resistance that’s felt. It’s, as I have said many times before, the moments that fall between the big. 

The decisions made and not made. Thought through and hastily jumped into. The way I turn a blind eye when I comes to finances, telling myself before actually looking at the numbers, that I don’t have enough, which feels an awfully lot like, “I am not enough, nor will I ever be.” 

How am I still applying pressure in all the wrong places? 

And how is taking my own advice still impossibly difficult?

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Dropping the Expectations of 2018: Recounting Three Days of Anxiety Ridden Thoughts, a Shattered Projection, and Establishing Myself in the Wildness of Things

My hand moves beneath the glossy scene before me; fascinated by the reflection that blankets my body, one more clear than the soft glow of the candle sitting on the slippery ledge, I curl my hand upwards, and like a statue it holds steady, causing the glossy scene to give way to a harsher, more disturbed state. 

I feel that there is no comfortable way to say this. No clear, feather-like melody that I can project in order for you to understand, but go ahead, let us nod in agreement, because what else are we to do? 

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On The Road Again: Trying to Find My Footing In The Face Of Anxiety, Self Doubt + Every Day Uncertainties

My oh my, it has been awhile hasn't it! 

I just got back from sitting in the back of the jeep, on the pacific ocean, while spooning out bite size pieces of watermelon to eat while I take some time to slow my mind down. After rattling my way back (the jeep doesn't have the best suspension), I have plopped myself on the little balcony of the place I am staying.

Just the right amount of sun hits my face as I attempt to put my thoughts into works and then onto "paper" for you. Sometimes, they flow easily and I don't have to think twice about grabbing a few here and there from the chaotic part of my mind that holds all of my thoughts, and putting them into some kind of tangible form. 

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Fresh Alpine Air, Blue Skies, and Sleeping Under The Stars. On Being Intentional.
Recently, I've noticed that I rarely leave myself room for spontaneity, for little adventures, for the dirt, wild flowers, and idea generating blue skies. For the simple things that I love so dearly. 

Why? There is a chance that, due to my rather serious demeanor and need for "productivity" even when I'm not feeling at my best,  that I am a workaholic. That even though I recognize and so often crave the presence of the wild, I have a hard time letting go. I have a hard time letting myself do anything other than work - using "work" as a broad term here. 

Now, this constant need to "work" might also come from my not so wonderful track record of past jobs, where much of the blame weighs heavily on Lyme and the limitations it brings. That until I can feel secure on all levels, I can't slow down. 

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In Harmony With Myself: Telling Myself I Can Do It Just Before I Decide To Give up

Hands are shaking, check. Head is throbbing, check. Stomach is churning, check. At any given moment I can stop whatever I'm doing, feeling these symptoms pulse through my body like that have done for many, many years.

Slowly but surely, we made our way up the dirt path. A path leading us towards a clearing in the trees not far from where stood. As we continued upwards, I began to make out the white of the mountains above the treetops, as if luring us in with their brief but impactful presence. 

I stopped to catch my breath, letting the cool of my hands soothe my eyes. As I recoup and continue up the path, I think back on my reluctance to take this adventure. Why? I asked myself I over and over. It's almost as if I have been trained to say no, only ever looking for the parts of me that are in pain. The parts of me that feel anxious. The parts of me that I deem unworthy.

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