It's been too long. I've missed you all. And a place to ramble. So here's what's on my mind:
I used to care what my body looked like to other people. Years ago, I worried about the scale number, kept myself as tiny as possible, tried to be small and not take up space. If I reached 110lbs, I panicked. Then I discovered CrossFit and then Strongman. Taking up space became a point of pride as my body became solid, muscle grew, and I proclaimed my existence. I topped out at 140lbs. Solid. A little fluffy. Pound for pound, really strong. My focus shifted to my strength, what I could do. But, of course, I also enjoyed how I looked physically. I was proud of my "squat butt".
Burned out, drained, and disappointed in a lot of things about my local community, I took a break from strongman. An opportunity arose to take my teacher training course for yoga. I've practiced since I was a teenager. It's the one thing I've consistently turned to over the years as I've moved from athletic hobby to hobby. Once upon a time, I started a teacher training...and then life had other plans. So I just continued to practice. And this chance came up. I knew it would be time intensive, and would involve a little sacrifice in that. But the blessing of the job I can't stand is that it affords me the ability to do something like this. And was I going to just make excuses for the few reasons it would be difficult to do....or look at all the reasons the universe was pointing me in that direction at this time? And so, I committed to it. That meant no gym time....no way could I balance work and its chaos, training and all the time at home it took, and still having some semblance of a personal life. I'm learning to look at the bigger picture and be patience. So....okay. No problem. I'll take the down time, focus on this, and then see where it all goes. Despite popular belief (or my own sense of self importance) the gym doesn't cease to exist if I'm not there.
Turned out to be the best decision for me. I took the downtime. Spent time learning. Practiced and practiced and practiced. Re-established a meditation practice (I've had one on and off for about the same length of time I've practiced yoga. I'm a practicing Buddhist - go ahead and mock my hippie self - except for a brief period when I went to adult catechism and got confirmed....that was an experience probably best left for another post). I needed the shift in gears. And out of it came some really wonderful friends, a beautiful community, and some opportunities to teach for which I'll forever be grateful.
And I no longer care what my butt looks like.
I care about being healthy. I care about what I put in my body. About eating good food and enjoying it and feeling healthy. I don't just mean "healthy lettuce leaves" either...I mean salads and veggies and pizza and chocolate. And whiskey - never forget the whiskey. All things in moderation, whatever I want at the time. I care about being active because I enjoy it. I love to sweat. To have challenges. So I'll lift when I want to, exercise at home when it suits, go climbing and hiking, and maybe occasionally go for a run. I care about my mind and my emotional well-being. If all this recent global panic and chaos has taught me anything, it's that self-care is truly the foundation for empathy. You can't give what you don't have. So I practice yoga. I meditate. I read. I give myself breaks from the constant inundation of shit....both malicious and well-intentioned. I understand that this may drive away some people in my life, because I'm not solely about the lifting life anymore. Though I still love it, and will continue to do when it's time, a lot of people have no interest in my "hippie shit". But the genuine friends do. And they'll be around. And most of all:
I practice being kind and honest and unapologetic for myself and my needs.
All of this has opened another door, which I suppose I can share while I'm at it. Because who doesn't like sharing good news? I finally took the plunge into the unknown. I've been unhappy at my job for almost as long as I've had it. And I've been too scared to move toward what I really want to do. But today....I gave notice at my job. I'm returning to therapy. But on my terms. I'll do contractual work as a therapist in a couple different places. And I'll teach yoga a few times a week. Nice, steady classes. I'll make my own schedule and finally give myself the balance I've desperately wanted. It'll be tight for a while. And scary. Since when do we let fear hold us back, eh?
Moving from a cozy corporate job to the uncertainty is terrifying. This goes against everything we're pushed toward. But I have got to stop letting other people's fears become my own. Let's face it, kids...I've never been corporate. I tried hard to fit in the box for years now. It's not me. But that doesn't mean I can't make a decent living, take care of my responsibilities, and live on my own terms. Plenty of people do. They just have to be brave enough to take the leap. And smart enough to have a plan. Worst case scenario, I use my "looks impressive on paper" resume and go back to being a cog in the machine down the road. I just refuse to believe that this is it....this is the next 30+ years of my life? Hell no.
So follow me into the adventure; let's see where it goes. Good, bad, ugly...and absolutely beautiful.
You know that moment, when a song comes on and it suddenly triggers memories from years ago? Maybe it doesn't even trigger one specific event, so much as a feeling, a sense of a period of time in your past. I've been practicing meditation regularly for about 6 weeks now. Practicing being present and in the moment. But today, I got carried back to a point in my life about 4 years ago. Driving home, a song cued up on my Spotify...and something about the combination of the music, the fresh air, and driving past the trees starting to change just stirred up some memories. And that got me thinking....as I'm prone to do from time to time.
4 years ago, at this point in the year, I was in a weird transition. I had tumbled out of a marriage, through the rabbit hole of a simple yet surprisingly cruel divorce. I was on my own for the first time in my life, trying to sort myself out, reeling from life abruptly changing. I remember many a Fall day when I drove around blasting this particular artist....or sitting outside at the coffee shop studying for class (I had briefly returned to school that Fall) with them playing through my headphones. All those crazy, mixed up feelings returned for just a moment or two. And then I thought about how much has changed since then.
Early last week, I finally met up with a family member who used to be like a sibling. We had a falling out years ago, at a time when both of us were messy and angry, for different and weirdly similar reasons. In catching up, she made a comment about how I seemed much happier now, content with life, comfortable with myself. I had acknowledged it and moved along. I'm tempted to say we repaired our relationship, but I think we've actually started to build a whole new, far better (and healthier) one. It's a wonderful feeling. Her comment came back to me as I thought about those 4 year-old feelings. She's right.
It took all the things I went through to get where I am. It took that disappointing marriage and messy divorce. It took the resulting rebound relationship - a disaster of verbal abuse and gaslighting and exploiting every insecurity I ever had - and its implosion. It took missteps and relationships that never took off and a lot of time on my own. And now, through the beauty of hindsight, I see the good things that grew out of this chaos. The friendships that strengthened. The person I have become.
If you want the most honest change that occurred....then I'll be transparent for a moment. I was so angry. Past me carried so much anger and resentment. But I never let it out. It was my burden to bear, my feelings, and I dared not bother anyone else with it. For many, many reasons - that are far too personal and not nearly ready to be processed publicly - I carried so much anger. I denied that it existed. I don't think I was even capable of seeing the true scope of it. But inside, I seethed. I raged. I let it eat away at me. It gathered steam like a tidal wave, and overtook me. Finally...and I'm not saying I was even aware that this was what I was doing at the time....I decided that it wasn't serving any purpose other than making me miserable and making life harder. I started to let it go. Not all at once. I'd love to tell you I'm some enlightened being who had an epiphany and sudden released all my worldly burdens. But that isn't even near the truth. Bit by bit, piece by piece, I've slooooowly pulled out that anger, like shards of glass pulled from flesh. Each piece gets held out, acknowledged, and safely discarded. It's a long, painful process. There's plenty more to go. But the resulting peace that takes its place soothes the wounds.
I never want to go back to being that girl. The lonely, perpetually sad girl who believe she deserved all the garbage. The girl who was afraid to demand her true worth. The girl who was afraid to take up space, who would've gladly shrunk herself into non existence if only it pleased those around her. After all the experiences, good and bad, here I am. Assertive, loud-mouthed, gloriously weird, and finally comfortable with all my strengths and my flaws. I am not perfect, nor do I want to be.
Of course, 4 years-ago-Bee would've been skeptical if you'd have told her this would be her life now. She'd have raised an eyebrow at the picture of future her: a much better job (two, in fact, in that time span), strongman, traveling, a hedgie to snuggle, teaching yoga. But I think the hardest thing for her to believe would be the internal feeling. The change in self-image. And the contentment with life.
As long as I can keep learning and growing and experiencing life, I am a happy Bee. I expect to continue changing as I go, and am ready to embrace whoever I may be down the road with the same enthusiasm and understanding I give myself now. I challenge you all to think about the positive changes you've seen in your life lately. Think about who are now and how you want to grow and change....and make that a goal. I challenge you to be a happier, healthier you.
I need to write about what happened tonight in yoga. This may or may not be relevant to others, but I suspect at least a couple of people will be able to relate. And I need a space to process it, I suppose.
So I started up with yoga back in high school. I did very basic, beginning yoga in my bedroom, jammed into the tiny space between my bed, my desk, and whatever messy chaos of clothes and school books was strewn around the space. In college, I sporadically practiced at home, following videos and online snippets. Eventually I found some local studios and braved going to classes. I've talked before about my anxiety in new situations, especially unfamiliar social situations. Though I felt horribly awkward, I pushed through the anxiety and took classes when I could. Later on down the road, in grad school, I discovered a beautiful little studio near home filled with some incredibly kind and encouraging teachers. I took up a regular practice through school and after I started my career, and even at one point started taking yoga teacher training....until my significant other lost his job and it was on me to try to support us. A beginning social worker salary is miniscule. It barely supports one human, let alone two, and leaves no room for extra spending. So teacher training was sacrificed to the low-salary gods, and I went back to a daily home practice. After I split with my ex-husband, yoga helped me get through the not-so-fun of a divorce. Until I discovered lifting. Yoga then took a back seat and became an occasional side practice.
Why yoga? Well. It looks cool. And makes for great Instagram pictures. Kidding! I started yoga pre-social media. As a type A, perfectionistic, highly anxious human, I need something to ground myself. I need something to slow myself down. It's probably what simultaneously drew me to studying Buddhism as a teenager. It's amazing what slowing down, focusing, accepting what I cannot control, practicing non attachment, and being in the moment does for my high speed brain. Yoga - and by extension meditation - brings me to the moment. The focus is on breath and movement, on linking these two. A student of yoga learns (sometimes the hard way) to let go of the results each practice...maybe one day I move easily into poses of increasing difficulty, while others I struggle just to feel easy in the basic movements.
On to the present day. I'm going to try to describe this accurately. As much as one can. After talking about going to yoga with a friend, she offered up going to a class together sometime at a studio near here. We went earlier this week to a Slow Burn class - basically a slower paced class that involves holding the poses for a prolonged time. Sounds easy, right? It's not. It's a great challenge. It was a great class. So when looking at my options for this evening, I decided to go back to yoga and try out a Blend class. These start out more like slow burn....and then move into a more traditional vinyasa (a flow - connecting together sequences of poses at the pace of your breath) style. It was with a teacher we hadn't had earlier in the week. Jen opted in and we met up at class.
It was a normal Friday at work, which meant all the crises and chaos hit from 4pm on. Even after I left work, I was still getting texts and phone calls. This meant I came into class wound awfully tight. I wasn't sure I'd be able to let go of work. But the teacher was great, and I soon was able to relax and breathe. As we moved into the faster flow portion, I experienced something that I haven't always been able to do during practice. I completely plugged in to what was happening and focused solely on the movement. I had a moment where I started to think ahead, to get anxious that I'd forget the sequence. But I shook it off and decided to trust myself to just keep going through the pattern. And I did. I breathed. I moved. I poured sweat. Buckets and buckets of sweat. At one point, the teacher told us to not stop our flow to wipe our faces, to "let the sweat leave your body"......as if I had a choice. And then, after a few passes through the sequence, I got into and held a pose I never have before. On both sides (I'm horribly lopsided and often have one side less mobile than the other). I smiled. And stayed focused on the flow. Toward the end, he encouraged us to move into headstand. If you've ever seen my IG, you know this is one of my favorite poses. I cannot do a handstand (poor mobility in my shoulders and distrust in my own balance). But I can headstand all dang day. So I did. And then we twisted. And then settled into savasana (the final pose is laying flat out on your back and totally letting go). The poses and the flow were exciting. But here's the part that really stamped this as an amazing class.
As I lay with my eyes closed, letting any bits of tension leave my now very warm muscles...I felt it. The dreaded lip tremble. And then a few fat alligator tears slid out from under my eyelids and straight down into my ears. Good thing I was still streaming sweat, it all blended in. But I didn't feel sad. Or happy. I just felt....content. Relieved. The practice allowed me to finally let go of all the tension stored up tight deep in my joints and muscles after a stressful week at work. Sometimes a good practice will pull up emotional stuff. I used to get embarrassed about it. Now I just accept it. The profound relief and gratitude for such contentment was indescribable. We finished class, I stared at the ceiling for a minute or two. When the teacher walked by, I wanted to tell him what a wonderful class it was, how glad I was that I had come, how much I appreciated his skill at leading such an intense class. Instead, all I could do was make eye contact, smile, and choke out a "thank you". He smiled and touched my shoulder for a second, saying thank you in return as he walked by. And I let it be. I knew there was no way I could discuss the class without unleashing more emotion. I didn't even know why, exactly. Yoga is weird like that. It pulls out things you didn't even know were hiding.
Sometimes I take for granted how stressful my day-to-day can be. I work in a stressful environment. And just like the hundreds...thousands...of others who work in acute care, I've normalized it. Eventually you either acclimate or burn out. But this sets your normal gauge at a higher resting point than many other people. Ask any crisis worker, mental health tech, EMT, or pretty much any nurse in a hospital setting; they will likely agree that their "normal day" and the conversations had during that day would be wildly out of whack to most other humans thrown into that situation. Amazing what we adapt to. Humans are amazing. But thankfully.....we have things that help us to de-stress: lifting, yoga, rock climbing, skydiving, hiking......Oh. Is that just my list? ;)
Anyway. I don't know the exact point here. Maybe to encourage everyone to find their self-care. Do things that make you feel good. Take care of yourself. Always. Maybe to let people know that we all struggle with new things, returning to things, continuing to grow in things. Maybe to say hey, emotions happen. Allow them. Own them. Let them pass. And enjoy the ride, human.
All summer long, a couple of friends and I have talked about going camping. We've been itching to get outside. And this past weekend, we finally scratched the itch.
Of course, after setting aside this weekend and planning much of the summer for it, the forecast turned to shit the week before. We discussed the rain several times, never wavering in our plan. Friday, two of us had to work before we could head on out and meet up at the campground. We had found a good middle point that was about equidistant for all of us - me from Auburn Hills and them from Grand Rapids. Friday, the reality of the impending storms hit and the question was thrown out as to whether we should wait and head out tomorrow. No, dammit. We are going. Rain isn't going to stop us. And so....we went.
Though I drove through bands of pouring rain on the way out, the campground was dry when we arrived. We hurried to set up the tent before the rain reached us, not knowing how much we might possibly get at once. With minimal issue, we got the tent up.....I only managed to bend up one tent stake, due to my Hulk-like rage at not being able to push the stake through some buried rock underground. Whoops. It was dead still and about 9384023% humidity. We were soaked in sweat by the time we were done. But there it stood.
Well, without the fire initially. But by the evening it looked awesome!
Of course, by the time we were ready to make a fire.....it had been drizzling on and off and all the wood in the area was damp. Even the bundles of firewood were damp from the humidity, despite being covered. Thankfully, we had kind neighbors who took pity on us (after Brogan crashed their campsite and asked real nice-like) and threw a little lighter fluid on our fire to get it going. From that point, I was able to prod the fire to life so that we could make some dinner!
Behold!! I give you fire!
We enjoyed a drink by the fire before finally turning in. Jessie and I ended up chatting and shooting the shit for a while in the dark, unable to settle in and snooze through the humidity as easily as Brogan. Finally, we drifted out. Overnight, we got hit with a solid thunderstorm. There's something about waking up to thunder and pouring rain.....and being perfectly dry. Our tent held up well. A bit of water worked its way in at the far corners, but it could be managed with a single towel and no one floated away. Turns out, our neighbors on the other side were not so lucky. Their tents flooded out, and they spent the rest of the weekend with blankets, pillows, and other belongings draped over their cars trying to dry.
All this rain made for stifling humidity in the morning. Despite a couple of attempts at dozing off (after Jessie the rooster woke up BEFORE 7 AM), we finally gave in and got up. Jess ran into town to get a couple of necessities we had forgotten, and came back with coffee. She really wanted to make some eggs over the fire, so I attempted to revive the fire. It got going, but not hot enough to keep the cast iron skillet hot or to get the coffee percolating. Jessie got grumpy face, and it was clear we were not going anywhere until there was more food. And so, I decided we were gonna have a hot-ass fire, come hell or high water. And so:
Look at that smug mf-er in the background
Fueled up and caffeinated, we got ourselves packed up and ready to hike. Sleepy Hollow has a continuous hiking trail that loops the lake, intersecting on one side with some multi-use and horse trails. At that point, it was 85 degrees and 95% humidity. We figured we would get around the lake and then see how we felt. The paths criss-crossing on the west side would let us adjust mileage accordingly. The loop started off in the woods....and it was beautiful.
So much green. Green everywhere.
We saw some wildlife. Unfortunately, that included a wee mouse that appeared to have been hit by a mountain bike. Little buddy was taking his last sad little breaths. And my squishy lil heart couldn't bear leaving him in the middle of the path. That's no place to die. And there's no dignity in being stepped on or hit again. Yes, I know. Nature is harsh. And unforgiving. And I realize that, regardless, he was going to die. But that's just how I roll. Ask Jessie. Our last hike together, we came across a chipmunk that had been hit and killed (hopefully instantly, not sure) by a mountain bike just before we got there. I moved it off the path and under some leaves. There's my wildly overactive empath-self at work. And so, wee mouse needed to at least be moved. So I picked him up in some leaves and moved him to under a tree. I covered in him a couple of leaves and tried not to cry. Because: soft and squishy. For Pete's sake, I'm tearing up just writing this. Fortunately, after that, we came across lots of (very alive) little frogs. And a bigger mouse running through the plants. And then some bigger frogs. And I was pleased.
The humidity was killer. Under the trees, we were granted shade. But not a lick of breeze. And after 6 miles, we parked it on the trail to rest and snack a little. Refreshed, we carried on. Until we came to a fork in the path, which appeared to drop off a damn cliff and then immediately climb vertically up the next hill. I was not impressed.
What fresh hell is this.
Finally, we cut across to the multi-use trail. It was wide open. And we finally had a breeze!! But now the trade off....the sun felt like it was riding directly on the top of my daypack. Holy hell. But we were treated to a beautiful view of the lake.
Hello, beautiful
I'm gonna take a second right here to thank Jessie and Brogan for sharing their gorgeous pictures from this whole weekend. All of these were taken by them. I refused to take my phone out of my daypack, as I attempted to disconnect and be absorbed in the moment. That has its pros and cons. Obviously, I have vivid memories of the hike. I got to be completely in the moment and think only of the walking and the scenery and all of the sensory bits to be taken in. The downside is that I had little photographic evidence from the weekend to share later. And this post would just be a bunch of words and no pretty pictures to show you all. So thank you, friends, for your photographic skills. Some day maybe I'll be able to balance both of these things.
We cut around the lake and back to the campground, ending the hike just around 9 miles. We could've easily added a few more miles on the north end, but I think we all needed to sit and cool down. Let's be honest....as much as I loved the hike....taking off hiking shoes and socks was probably one of the greatest feelings ever.
That'll do pig.
Once cooled off and mellowed out, it was time to make dinner. Brogan had prepped some chicken and veggies for skewers, and I had some veggie burgers (for my less-meat habit lately). I got that fire goin' - I had proudly dubbed myself the Fire Master. I'm really sure my firefighter father would be extra stoked to hear how much I enjoyed breathing life into hot embers to make flames ignite the fresh wood. Sorry, Padre.
I got me a pokin' stick. Burn, baby, burn!
So many pretty colors. So tasty.
The night gave way to cooler, more comfortable temps. We attempted to check out the meteor showers, but it was still too early - we needed the moon to set so it stopped interfering - and we got booted out of the open area near the beach because it was "closed". Of course, that was after Jessie gave the ranger a talking to for illuminating us to a bunch of drunk teen boys. It was quite entertaining. But also a sobering reminder of having to be on guard walking the trails at night as women.....and not because of potential furry four-legged creatures in the woods.
We mellowed out by the fire and enjoyed some beverages. I couldn't have been more content if I had tried. When we finally climbed into the tent, I was out like a light. The night stayed cool and dry, and we had a good breeze through the tent. Perfect sleeping weather. We slept in a bit the next morning. Once up, we took our time getting moving, making a last pot of coffee over the fire and hanging out at the campsite.
Really, truly, one of the best parts of camping
Brogan gets all artistic over coffee <3
It was bittersweet to break down camp and pack away everything in the cars. It was such a wonderful weekend. My soul was happy. Being out in nature, away from everything, disconnected from the world.....it's so necessary. We spent the weekend talking about our next camping adventure, planning to work toward some backpacking and camping up north. By next summer, I want to be able to do some real backcountry exploring. Because there's nothing like pooping in a hole to bring you closer to nature. No, seriously, I do want to be able to be pretty self-sufficient and do some multi-day trips out into the woods. And who better to adventure with than these awesome women??
I look like I photobombed the shit outta these two.
Back to work this week, my brain is still outdoors. Ive been looking up places to go hike. I've saved several locations to my "to-do" list. And I've started doing a little research into some of the gear and tidbits I need to learn/know to do this all successfully. I cannot wait to get back outside again. I'm eager to take advantage of every bit of outdoor time before snow hits.
Now I'm off for more Brutus snuggles. We are mellowing out on the couch with The Office on in the background, while I read books about travel and adventure. Sometimes it's nice just to live a little vicariously, eh? I had planned to go get a couple of jumps in this coming weekend, but it looks like the weather is going to thwart that plan. Keeping my fingers crossed that they're wrong and Saturday morning ends up being clear. Otherwise, I'll bump that back a week. It's not a bad consolation to spend the morning drinking coffee and hanging out instead.
Here's to a good end of the week. Let's hope that full moon treats us all well.
I've been waiting for the right day to go do my AFF (accelerated free fall) jump, since I took skydiving ground school three weeks ago. That weekend, the weather sucked and I didn't get out there in the tiny window of decent weather they had. The next two weekends were busy, with travel and hosting the strongwoman competition. I only have 30 days to get my jump in, so this weekend was The Time.
Saturday morning, my alarm went off, and I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for a while. Did I really want to go do this? Hmmm...well, yes. I did. But was I sure? What if I messed up something and looked stupid in front of all the other people at the drop zone? You see, this is how anxiety works. It gets hung up on trivial shit, then beats that dead horse with another dead horse until a new "scary" thing comes along. I wasn't worried about the parachute not deploying. I wasn't even worried about potentially have to cut-away and pull the reserve if I had to. A little nervous about that, sure, but I had a good instructor and felt like I could go through the proper steps if I needed to. Instead, my anxiety latched on to two things: What if I can't find the drop zone once I deploy? And what if I land like a rock in front of everyone? Really. Of all the things...these are what my mind fixates on.
Finally, I thought "Just get your ass out of bed and get in the car". I told myself that I would go out there, and if the weather was good and everything was a go, I was going to face my anxiety and do the damn thing. Besides, I already paid for it. Good thing I have an inner cheap-ass, because that's what finally got me moving.
The drive to the airport is long from here. Plenty of highway, then rural roads and farm land. By the time I got there, my weird nerves had my stomach fluttering. But when I got there and checked in, the girl at the desk recognized me from when we came to tandem jump. I told her I was there to do my first AFF and she cheered. Then she showed me where the sport jumpers hang out and prep to jump, on the back side of the hangar. I got to hang out around the cool kids....people who actually know what the hell they're doing, aside from the basics taught in class. I sat and listened to lots of stories; people were talking about jumps they watched online, with all kinds of crazy stunts, as well as upcoming gatherings and trips. Everyone was super friendly, saying hi and introducing themselves. Whenever someone asked what jump I was on and I told them my first AFF, they got all pumped. It reminded me a lot of the strongman crowd....everyone is laid back and friendly and glad you're there to do the crazy shit with them.
Because I had gotten there later in the morning, and it was a beautiful day, I waited for over an hour to jump. But it didn't feel like a long hour waiting, because I met my instructor and walked through everything. I learned how to check my gear. We ran through the sequence several times, and I got a refresher on all the hand signals used while free falling to help a student adjust their body for the optimum positioning. We talked out the landing pattern and did some trouble shooting for if I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be at certain heights. Steve reassured me that he'd be on the one-way radio I'd have only helmet, walking me in. I felt like I could get the basics and land myself if the radio failed, but definitely hoped the damn thing worked when the time came Then we sat at the picnic table and shot the shit with a couple other guys to pass the time. I met my second instructor just before we got all geared up to go, and he was just as cool. I zipped myself into a jumpsuit (which feels slightly like a sauna suit in the summer sun) and Steve helped me get into my rig. Fortunately, I'm used to awkward leg harnesses and whatnot from climbing, so it wasn't too foreign straightening everything out and tightening up all the bits and pieces. Turns out, a rig is actually quite heavy. And stiff. I'm not sure what the hell I thought it would feel like, but I was a little surprised.
Finally, it was our turn to go. At that point, the fluttering had settled to a dull roar and I was as ready as I was getting. Once we were on the plane, I felt oddly calm. It was a done deal as far as my head was concerned, so what was the use in feeling super anxious? May as well breathe and focus. And enjoy the damn thing. There were a handful of solo jumpers on the plane with us. A few of them went first. Then it was our turn:
They signaled for me to pull at 9k feet, rather than the 5,500 you're taught as a "standard" for students, because the wind was pushing us further away from the airport and they wanted me to have time to get where I needed to be. Of course, at the time, I had no idea of any of that. All I knew was that I looked at my altimeter (the gauge you can see on my left hand) at 9k, then saw the "pull" signal. Steve had reminded me prior that if I see that signal at any time, once it processes, pull. Don't question it, don't ignore it, don't debate it. Just pull. So I did. I'm glad to see all the repeated training and running through the signals sunk into my brain. As soon as my brain realized that was a single finger in front of my face, I tossed the pilot chute. In the video, you can see my 3 practice touches. Steve puts my hand on the handle the first two times, because I was having trouble finding it. On the third touch, I got it straight on. And that stuck in my head, apparently, because I pulled that sucker with no hesitation and no missing or fumbling it.
Once my parachute deployed, I was relieved to look and up and see that it looked exactly how it should. I ran through the test steps, and it flew just fine. Then I looked around. Where the fuck was the airport?? Not below me....nowhere I could see in front of me.....I did a nice gentle turn and OH! there it was behind me. Thankfully, I had been cued to look for the giant white tanks across the road from it, and they were definitely the most prominent thing my eyes landed on. Then I looked at my altimeter. Why had we pulled so early? Of course, the anxious part of my brain assumed it was because I was doing something awful and they had just pulled the plug on the whole freefall. Mentally kicking myself, I then realized I only had a couple thousand feet before I was where I needed to be to start my landing pattern.....and I didn't seem to be close enough. I aimed myself a little straighter, then played around a little with the toggles, pulling to a near stop and hanging there a few times to get a feel for it. I tootled to the left, and to the right, then straightened out again. And then, miraculously, I heard Steve's voice on my walkie. He told me to flare (pulling both toggles down to make the parachute slow down) if I could hear him. I did. "Good!! You're looking good! Keep coming this way". Whew. Okay. Looks like I wouldn't have to land in a field after all!!
Steve talked me in and I executed the turns. Coming in close the ground, a few small puffs of wind kept pulling me to the right. Another jumper was gathering his parachute and turned in time to get out of my way. Steve's voice called "Flare! Flare" and I did and I landed. You're taught to land like a wet noodle, a sort of semi-controlled roll to absorb what impact there is until you're skilled enough to slow at just the right moment to land on your feet - otherwise you risk breaking something. I was less "wet noodle" and more "potato". But that's okay. I was a safe potato who did it all on her own! I laughed and Steve came over. He immediately reassured me that I had done nothing wrong - before I could even ask - and explained the wind thing to me. He said I had done well, and had followed everything like I should. He showed me how to gather my parachute and we walked back to the hangar, processing my perspective of the jump.
We met up at the picnic table and rehashed the jump. I hadn't realized he had the camera on until he said he had video. We watched it and critiqued it. I am but a wee new baby in the land of skydiving. And I have plenty of room to learn and grow. But I was darn proud of myself and Steve gave me a good critique. I need to remember that I have legs and position them better, for sure. And I need to refine my landing as I come down the last 300 ft and land like a potato, for starters. I am definitely looking forward to doing more jumps and really dialing in the muscle memory and learning to read some of the subtle factors. I'm simultaneously nervous and excited to go again. I plan to get a couple of jumps in the next time I go out. I almost stayed for another jump, but realized that I was starving and not prepared to be there for another couple of hours. So I said goodbye to everyone and told them I'll see them in a couple weeks. "Why not next week?!"..... Oh, yep, this is how the addiction grows.
Truth be told, if I weren't going camping, I'd be planning to haul my happy ass back out there.
And so. That was a really long, drawn out way to talk about not letting anxiety get the best of you. It can be scary to be outside of your comfort zone. But I'm learning to assess that and push myself just slightly outside of it.....to push right through those butterflies and take a deep breath and just trust myself to do the thing. I worry about what I'll do...then I worry about what would happen if I did't do it...then I worry again about doing it....
And once it's done, I never regret it. In fact, I'm often pumped to go back for more.
So there's your challenge for this week/weekend. Find something just outside of your comfort zone. It doesn't have to be skydiving (but if it is, I support it!!). Go to a new place. Try out a yoga class. Take yourself out to eat solo sans cell phone. Venture into the unknown. Don't let yourself get in the way. If you find yourself saying "Well, I'd like to, but I don't know if I can...." then say "Self, knock it off. You can do it. In fact, it's practically already done! Bee believes in you". And then tell me all about your non-comfort zone adventure. If it's new for you, it's a big deal, and I want all the details!
Life is a weird grey area right now. I'm happy but I'm not. I want to stay but I want to go. I want to do everything but I want to do nothing. All at the same time.
Health issues are keeping me out of training right now. I've been exploring some gentle alternatives that I can do with what little energy I seem to have. Yoga is my bff right now. It's not the same as running strongman implements and I miss lifting heavy. I miss having a solid workout. I know I should go to the doc, but I've been through this for years. Every time we come back to it "likely" being IBS and you just have to manage it and figure out your trigger foods. And minimize your stress. Oh, yeah, okay. Let me just take a vacation from life. (Insert middle finger emoji here)
And so....I've retreated to reading. Volumes of poetry. Books on Buddhism and meditation and Zen. Memoirs of travel and adventure. Words and words and words until I doze out on the couch or in bed. And still I want more.
I am insatiable. In every facet.
There's more happening, but I'm not ready to delve into that chaos just yet.
This weekend, I took Friday off work and went camping with man friend and his friends. Friday night, I fell asleep in my hammock for a few hours while the fellas played guitar and chatted around the campfire. It was brilliant. We spent the weekend sweaty and dirty, washing off by playing in Lake Huron. We cooked meals over the campfire and I ate s'mores until I thought my teeth would fall right out of my head from all the sugar. We had drinks and played euchre late into the night and stole deals and hands from opponents left and right. It was a great weekend away. I am content with that.
Even if I have been ingesting ginger like it's going out of style and living off the blandest foods possible now. Damned if I do and damned if I don't so I may as well occasionally enjoy things that'll piss off my stomach anyway.
This week is the lead up to Midsummer Valkyrie. It's going to be a good time. I'm so excited to have everyone there again. It's a smaller contest than December was, but I expect this next December one to be just as big as the last. The final week is interesting. Prepping last minute details, finalizing shirts and awards and the flow of the contest. And fielding last minute questions and people dropping from the contest. Being a promoter is a lot of work. But so very, very worth it. I love doing it and am already throwing ideas around for the next. Mostly, I'm pumped for some truck pull. Woot!
I started this with the intent to focus on one topic. And then I ended up scattered. I can't settle my brain onto one topic, but it seems a shame to delete the whole thing. So I leave you all with this mess of a post. Something coherent will be incoming soon, I promise.
I've been starting to make good on my desire to get the hell outside. Last weekend I went out and about on my own. I'd had plans to hike with a friend, but she was hit with a migraine and had to back out. So the next day, I took my happy self out all on my own and enjoyed some nature time. It was lovely. And much needed.
So this weekend, I'd already set aside the time to meet up with Jessie and Brogan to possibly camp, but to at least day hike. After a truly awful, stressful week (both personally and in the larger world sense), I made a decision to get a hedgie sitter and stay the night out in Grand Rapids. I peeled myself out of bed on Saturday (let's talk about scheduling a "sleep in" day soon) and cruised on out. It was a beautiful morning and I genuinely enjoy long drives alone. It gives me time to do a little car karaoke and contemplate life.
After arriving and hopping around with the dogs a bit - our traditional Hello Dance - Jessie and I got our stuff together and changed to hike. Unfortunately, Brogan was feeling some nagging pain from training and wasn't able to come out with us. So we opted to go out to the ski area and investigate some of the mountain bike trails. They had hiked trails on the other part of the area the weekend before, so Jessie wanted to explore some new territory. It was all new woods to me, so I was content with wherever she chose. We hopped into her Jeep and enjoyed a doors-off ride out of town. Every time I get in her Jeep I start to long for one of my own......as I lean out the door with my face in the wind like a dog.
After roaming slightly aimlessly to find the trail head, we wandered on into the woods. Jessie taught me her ancient mountain bike tracking skills, in which she can tell me which way we should be going on the trail by the direction of the tread. Orrrr maybe she glanced at the signs. But I prefer to believe she's the bike whisperer. Thank goodness, she can stick her ear to the ground and listen for the rumble of nearby tires if we get lost.
Jessie was smart and camel-backed her water
It was a gorgeous day for a hike. Not ridiculously hot or humid. It was a bit cloudy here and there, and once the sun came out fully we were under the big green canopy. Perfect. Beautiful. Day. We even walked around a pond that looked like it came out of some prehistoric jungle.
Found the primordial ooze
After working our way down and out through the far loop, we hiked it back toward the main trail area. We had packed in our hammocks and a handy tube-shaped cooler (Thanks to my monthly Cairn box!) of cold beverages and had been scouting for the perfect hang out spot. Of course, then we saw this:
Now, you know such a polite sign must be holding the key to the perfect hammock spot. So we explored further and found it!
What's that Lassie?! The hammocks found a home?!
So then this happened:
The pano shot at the top of this page is from this point. We just hung out, had a beverage, joked, talked serious topics, joked some more, and generally took in the peace and quiet around us. We ended up swaying in the breeze for nearly 2 hours. It was exactly what I needed - what we both needed, I think. The world is simple out in the woods. The rest of the world is a shit show right now, but it doesn't exist out there.
Today I went and trained. I didn't want to. But I did it. And I actually bumped up my numbers, even after being sick all last week and not training at all. I really am excited to compete again, but not feeling well and battling whatever has been up with my stomach is not making me feel very motivated.
Next Friday is ground school, the next step toward skydiving solo. I'm super pumped for it, though that evening is all "classroom time" and a test. So let's all hope that the weather holds out later in the weekend so I can go jump with instructors.
Other than that.....I'm busy planning. Planning for Burma in the fall. Tickets are booked and now it's time for the fun details. Planning camping and hiking a lot more for this summer. Looking at hiking challenges and getting myself out into some new spaces. I'd expound more at this point, but I'm tired from the weekend and ready to go cozy myself into bed. Hope you're all busy planning your next adventure too.
