Why I hike alone.

I hike alone not only so I can dance around naked.

I hike alone because layers of stress, encouraged that to be my preference. Here's what I mean…

I love getting outside, I think if you spend a few moments on my page or if you know me - I really boast about getting my ass out into nature.

🌞But here's the thing, I stress out over it sometimes.

For that all to make sense, I'm going to give some background…

I grew up outdoors. My parents had us moving all over the country living in National Parks, State Parks and near tons of green spaces.

I ended up preferring life outside than indoors. As soon as school would end, I'd rush home, pull out my homework. Race to get it done. My parents would give me an approving smile for what I was about to do. I'd smile back and then leap out the door, run down the hill and play in the desert red sand and water until dinner.

That was where I came back home to myself in life.

Wherever it was. Even when I became a 'city' girl and lived in actual towns. I felt my truest when I was outside being silly, courageous and plugged into the Earth.

Then, at 19, I was hiking barefoot and had a misstep that landed me in the ICU with a pretty serious tailbone and brain injury.

And everything changed.

I couldn't walk up a hill without getting dizzy and throwing up.

My free and quick pace was blunted, back to toddler level.

And it hurt physically to do what I used to love so freely.

It took a toll on me mentally to be in familiar situations, feeling completely different and out of control.

I felt inadequate. And ashamed for feeling inadequate, because it was my fault that got me here.

But I kept going, because unconditional love means showing up when sh*t goes down. And baby, do I love this Earth.

And over time it became more about meeting myself as much as I could. Even if that 'much' was not very much at all. And through the pain soaked mountaintop views, I would remind myself how amazing I was for getting back out there. For being alive.

Now I'm not going to lie, sometimes I forgot to remind myself of that.

And the trauma response of my new experience with the outdoors often had me stewing in shame, judgment and sadness.

So it morphed into me preferring to be outside alone.

On the surface, it's because I don't want people to judge me for saying I love getting outside so much and in reality I have to stop constantly or look down to be able to walk on the winding scenic trail.

A little deeper, it's because I don't want to have to explain myself or tell my story over and over.

And even deeper, I don't want to have to fake it in front of people I love. It's so tiring.

Deeper down, it's because I don't want to judge myself for being different than I was years ago.

With chronic stress comes this need to cling to what is familiar, to what was. To my past. Because in truth, I don't think I ever finished grieving the loss of who I was before all of this.

And everytime I'm confronted with that on the trail, it stings. And it leaves a mark on my already scarred body.

This is my story with chronic stress, anxiety and trauma. There are days that I see a huge difference in my recovery and relationship with myself + nature. And other days where I feel defeated, and very dark. It ebbs. And so it flows. Tide low. And tide so high.

In learning to manage my stress and trauma response, I'm able to ride that wave with much more integrity. And a lot less mental thrashing.

It feels very scary to share this, because somehow with it all out in the open - the jig is up. There's no hiding from myself now. But I know that there's no freedom in hiding. And that sometimes you have to give it your all to get towards being free.

I'm still running, mostly walking. And with each step, I'm closer to coming back to myself.

xxxh