On The Road Again

I'm sitting in Denver, enjoying the afternoon sun with a kitty and a puppy. Earlier I attempted to make gluten free donuts. Apple cider, in honor of the harvest season. They didn't turn out quite as expected: I don't have donut pans and I may have left them in the oven a few minutes too long, but they certainly satisfied my craving! I've been here nearly two weeks and now it's almost time to move on.

Two weeks ago, after a lovely weekend at Chelsey's homey little apartment in Chicago, I caught a plane. Becca picked me up, we spent the weekend hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park and playing Skip-Bo with her grandma. Since then, we've wandered the Denver Art Museum, hung out at the zoo, crossed downtown in winds strong enough to stop us in our tracks, woken up early for a sunrise hike, had dinner with a friend from Northwaters and seen President Obama speak. Nearly everyone I've had a conversation with here, once they learn that I'm traveling with no itinerary or final destination, has tried to convince me that I ought to move here. My response is usually just a smile. Maybe one day. Right now I'm pretty happy going day by day with no permanent address.

Becca bein' a goof in RMNP

by Emerald Lake in RMNP

Playing in Garden of the Gods

Hush, I still don't generally enjoy having my picture taken.

Siamese Twins

Okay, so when I could actually see the President (rare), his head was still hidden behind the teleprompter. Still, quite the experience!

Maybe I need to include a brief update for those who have gotten only parts or none of the story:

January 2011
-I move to New Zealand, and start this blog.

February
-Christchurch, NZ (my chosen location) is devastated by an earthquake.

March
-I move to Auckland and mostly drop off the face of the earth, as far as international and internet-ional (ha) communications are concerned.

July
-I return to the US having realized that I desperately need to allow myself a time and space to recover. A few weeks of canoeing are a nice start, but I know they won't be enough.

August
-I leave university to live at my parents' house. I spend the fall alternately wallowing and traveling, before admitting that I need to find some way of keeping myself occupied. (I sign myself up for therapy. It helps.)

January-June 2012
-I work part time, taking a photography class at the local community college to get me out of the house a few more times a week. I house sit. Outside of class and work, my social interactions mainly consist of my parents, my (just-as-reclusive-as-me) brother and our dog. I look forward to another summer at working Northwaters but still have no real plans for what will happen beyond next week, next month, September.

June-September
-Nearly three months of good hard work, heat, drought, loneliness and exhaustion (mental and physical) and I know that I need to make changes. Rod Napier brings designs to staff training and debrief that set gears turning in my head. Maybe this time. 

Now
With all of that being said, most of the past year and a half (past four years, if I'm really being honest with myself) are full of things that I don't really like to talk about most of the time. I have fought off panic attacks and been depressive and reclusive. I had weeks and months full of days where all I could focus on was what the next minute would bring, fighting many days to just get out of bed. I know these months also contained good things, moments, people; I am learning to appreciate those nuggets for all the good they contained, rather than tallying them against all the dark (thank you Barbara). Small victories. But dwelling on the black hole of those months in the dark makes it so easy to slip right back. (It reminds me of the Dark Island in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The book, not the movie.) Dark cloud all around, senses dulled, time is meaningless, void. Even though I'm learning to view myself as a survivor and fighter, I still don't much like who and how that person was. Right now, I've pulled myself up from the pit by my fingernails and I'm trying to put a whole lot of distance between me and that edge. This entry is me trying to cut the strings with which I've been dragging all of those wretched moments behind me. Perhaps one day those memories will be more than an inspiration to keep moving forward. One day the momentum will be there, sustained for long enough that I can stop and say, "Oh, I remember that!" without feeling like Sisyphus endlessly pushing that boulder up the mountain. But for now, all I can do is keep moving.

So here I am. Still in Denver but not for long. Early next week I'll hop a bus to Albuquerque, and onward from there. Following my nose on the path picked out by my restless feet, I'll try to let you know when I have any idea where "onward" actually is! As for tonight, the sun and the cat have long since wandered off. Maybe I'll try my hand at pumpkin rice pudding, in keeping with the festive spirit.