the necessity of trauma (and support)

we went camping to get me out of my head: to re-wire the tapes that had been on loop in my head for the past week. 

after setting up camp, sarah and i started into the woods with a good attitude, excited to hike up a mountain and feel the sun on our skin and the fresh air feeding our lungs and souls. 

half a mile up, the official trail disappeared and we started fighting our way through the forest, trying to stay as close as possible to the red line alltrails had on our gps and each putting one foot in front of the other, though we couldn’t see our feet most of the time. 

approximately 12 times we had to make the same decision: continue forward on a very difficult and uncomfortable path, or turn around (knowing we had already come so far through terrible landscape). each time we chose to continue forward, hopeful that what was around the next bend would be improved from the current condition. 

but each time it got worse: more brush, more mud, more stinging plants swishing at our legs, terribly steep descents with no holds, a river without a crossing (built or natural)… and each time we thought, “but, still, it can’t get worse than THIS!”

simultaneously we were in a competition with daylight, moving so slowly through the difficult terrain: each of us sure we could make it out, and each of us knowing we had to keep going if we wanted to beat the sun. so many times we would look at each other, nod, smile, make a joke, and keep going.  because we had to. 

each of us had a moment where we were just one shortened breath away from a panic attack: i felt mine coming on about 3/5 of the way through the hike as i realized how slowly we were making progress and felt the sunlight quickly fading.  i felt the panic so close to my heart and looked at sarah and just said “i’m taking some deep breaths.” i knew that i had to stay calm for both of us, so i focused on breathing deeply.  there was a point on a steep descent, (one of those decisions where we looked at each other, committed, and then kept going) where sarah paused and i could tell she was at the door of panic.  i paused where i was and calmly told her i was there, we were making progress, and that i had faith in us. 

we made it—it was a crazy hike, but we made it.  together. 

several times throughout the hike we joked (though seriously) that we were glad we were on this hike together and not with other people—we were both able to keep hope, positive spirits, and confidence in ourselves.

every experience is a mirror.  and these woods literally slapped us in the face with the metaphors of our lives. i felt the gravity of the situation and how important it was that every time we made a decision, we fully committed to it.  we didn’t re-think our options over and over, or question what path we took. because we couldn’t afford to.

and yet with hindsight, and more information, we would have made different choices. we would have turned around at several points, if we had known what it was that actually lied ahead. 

so is the lesson to turn back when things are very very hard? or just to make the best decision you can with the current information? maybe neither. maybe it’s just that we can do fucking hard things when we are well supported. 

as this frightening and yet still enjoyable (thank you, sarah!!) experience is settling in my body this afternoon, i listened to an episode of radio lab where the hosts reflected on the necessity of trauma, in relation to being born: “the deeply traumatic act of coming into existence… the severity and harshness of it force you to adapt in order to survive.” 

that seemed to help it all click for me. because no matter what choices we make, there will be things in life that are H-A-R-D —and we never really know what will happen in the other multiverse once we make a decision and splinter off into this one. so it is really our amazing ability as humans to continue to adapt that serves us. and i 100% believe that it is the support we build in our lives that helps us thrive through adapting after a trauma—whether the trauma is itty bitty or HUGE. 

so thank you sarah for taking me camping. we found our way through the woods together and we keep proving that we can def find our ways through this life.  

and thank you universe for both the trauma and the support so i can keep evolving. 

pride without prejudice

last week i received funding for research that we had applied for. it was one of the most amazing things i've experienced: it was the first time i successfully planned and coordinated a project to be put up for such a competitive grant scheme.

all day i freaked out. i jumped around like crazy for a while; i called all the people involved; i tried to pick up my coffee a little later, but my hands were still shaking. the excitement just wouldn't die down. and kitty and hayden planned a little celebration party for that evening.

it wasn't until later that afternoon, after i yoga-ed it up (and calmed myself down), that i realized what felt so different: i was proud of myself.

i was proud of myself, and it felt weird; i was not used to that feeling.

when kitty arrived to escort me to drinks, i mentioned to her that we should be having the party simply for the fact that i felt proud of myself. it was that big of a deal.

i reflected on that over the past weekend while at uluru (formerly ayers rock for the americans in the audience--that big red rock in the middle of australia).

it isn't that i haven't accomplished great things; it isn't even that i can't recognize it per se. i think it's more that i feel embarrassed to feel pride, like it's an ego thing.

jane austen, in pride and prejudice, says: "Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

being at uluru, dwarfed in its size and spirituality, humbled me enough to let me figure that out. and then it made me sad: why can't we feel prideful of everything we do?

there's something hard for us to deal with every week; every day is hard for some of us. and you know what? we keep going. we make it through. sure, it doesn't always feel amazeaballs... but that's ok.

i'm proud of kitty for trying a new way of eating. i'm proud of hayden for making it through this next grant submission with me today. i'm proud of NK for each urge she gets past. i'm proud of SM for feeling both the highs and the lows. i'm proud of sister for braving her way through sleepless nights.

i'm proud of all the steps, all the choices, all the work each of us do every single day.

and i'm proud of myself.

strange that that's so hard to say. but i'm also proud of myself for doing the work to get to a space that i can say that.

yesterday i listened to the most current episode of this american life; in part 2, they discuss the possibility of time travel, and what people would do if they could time travel. so many people wanted to go back and fix things--either in their personal lives or in history. but, interestingly enough, the people with the most life experience (the elderly), didn't want to time travel.

i agree. i don't want to go back and teach myself things. i don't want to go back and fix mistakes. i agree with the conclusion: "i'm traveling into the future. at 60 minutes/hour. and maybe that's how we fix things."

each step. each choice. each little bit of work. it all counts. it all builds. it makes us what we are. and that's something we should be proud of.