Treasure exchange with The Rock was delightful this evening. He returned from a 3 week trip in India and brought me back a silk scarf, bindy box (contains third eye stain material), various spices, and a newspaper. So thoughtful. I gifted him a piece of artwork I scored while in Mexico this past weekend.
Conversations with most people have been very enjoyable and engaging the past few weeks. My social anxiety has decreased and I look forward to interacting with more people.
I have accepted that I am still hung up on The Duckter. But tonight on my buzzed drive home from beers with The Rock after treasure exchange, I realized that had The Duckter not broken my heart and extinguished our relationship, I wouldn’t be in the exact place I am today. In general, I like where I am; I am happy with my friendships, I love my neighborhood and apartment, I bagged an awesome job in a great lab, I am learning so much on a daily basis and growing a great deal as a person. All in all, I am discovering who I am little by little every day. Being alone with the ability to focus on myself allows me to do that.
I have always been a care taker; I have always worked as a healthcare professional or teacher. I have always maintained very serious and involved intimate relationships. These things have inhibited me from focusing on myself and discovering my true purpose in life. Lately, for unexplained reasons, I have been unable to allow myself to become involved in serious and involved relationships- despite optimal opportunities. I have been interpreting this as a flaw, but I am beginning to see this as something I can use to my advantage; a time to reflect. My subconscious may be inducing this condition on purpose.
It has been a difficult transition to adjust to this change to focusing more on my needs rather than the needs of others. I know realize that I will not be stuck in this position forever. Rather, this experience may be short-lived and I should try to absorb every meaningful morsel of information out of it.
Things are going very well and I need to try to remind myself of that more often. I am in complete control, even if it doesn’t seem that way all the time.
Tonight, The Rock allowed me to start my first IV on a human subject (him). He was great teacher and I think I did a really good job. Starting an IV was always a massive big fear of mine. But once I stopped thinking about my fears and focused on the task at hand, things became much easier. With confidence comes clarity.
Saute 1/2 sliced onion and 1/2 pound of white mushrooms in butter and rosemary until soft
Add salt, basil, oregano, and black pepper
Brown 3 TBSP of flour in pot with vegetables
Add:
1 can of chicken broth
2 cups of fat free milk
2 Beef bullion cubes
1 large cubed potato
Cover and bring to a simmer
Let simmer uncovered until potatoes have softened
Fold in two servings of egg noodles
It’s okay to….
Laugh with someone
be silly and stupid
hold hands
tell secrets
search for his embrace when you wake up in the middle of the night
learn new things from each other
embrace his interests
miss him, and let him know that you do
kiss him for no reason
surprise him
ask him to do something spontaneous with you
invite him to something important
cry on his shoulder
accept his compliments
ask him for help
tell him how you really feel
ask him how he really feels
tell him what you’re afraid of
Last night was difficult. I had made some poor choices a few nights before with an ex-boyfriend (the Duckter) and was feeling the regrets and loss of self worth that are the repercussions of such events.
Laying on my blue couch I felt the panic swirling in my chest, bulging out my eyeballs, and pumping through my veins. It was back. I had injected the poison into my system that caused me so many problems in the first place. I was so disappointed in myself, and I wanted to reverse everything that had happened.
I could feel my pulse pounding inside my body. In my temples, toes… and my wrist. I extended my wrist closer to my face so I could examine the life that was beating within. There it was, my radial artery. It was jumping up and down with such force that I could see it through my skin. The skin that was covered in scars that served as attempts to release some sort of pain or emotion when I was a teenager. It was mind boggling that a multitude of uneasy thoughts swirling around in my head could actually increased my pulse like this. How disgusting.
As I watched my artery that was fueled by and inappropriate fight or flight response dance around in my wrist, I could picture my good (sharp) cooking knife nestled next to my cutting board in the cabinet above the sink. I fought my impulses as my body tried to get up and fetch the knife. I new it just wouldn’t be a few cuts. I visualized myself crawling into my blue bath tub so I didn’t make a mess while I bled out. Suicide was nipping me at the ankles again.
I got up from the couch, bypassed the cabinet that contained the knife, and went to my closet to fetch my art supplies. I put on a movie, and began painting a ceramic bird I had picked up at the thrift store. At first I had to force myself to continue the project, but then I sank into it and my rushing thoughts started to dilute. Once I had finished painting my bird, I felt fine. Everything was ok. I wasn’t going to die after all.
I did it. I took care of myself with out drugs. I didn’t even pick up the knife to look at it or hold it. I can do this, and I’m figuring out new and better ways to cope. I can conquer this, always!
You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.
Last summer, the Duckter and I spent our summer summiting peaks and partaking in various mountain activities. During this time I contracted a chronic case of summit fever, and have yet to find a cure. I Summited three 14ers last year and a handful of 13,000 ft. mountains. This summer I have conquered Caribou Peak, James Peak, Mt. Bierstadt, Mt. Flora, Mt. Eva, and the Beast of a Mountain: LONGS PEAK.
Longs peak can be seen towering over the plains from almost anywhere in Denver metro area. I dirty talked that peak on my drive to work or school everyday for a year. I wanted her. So Bad. I wanted to crawl all over her and then get on top of her.
I had planned numerous attacks to conquer the Beast, but the dreaded summer thunderstorms of the Rocky Mountains had become my greatest enemy; they would always rush in to rain on my parade. Guide books for the Beast recommend that warriors begin their journey early in the night- 2am or 3am to miss the storms.
I failed to capture the Beast last summer, and I was going to plan my attack very carefully to assure a successful summit this year. She would not escape me again. I picked a date that would provide my partner, Aqua-man, and I with plenty of moon light for our journey. And as an added benefit, it looked like the thunderstorms would not be patrolling the area on the date we had chosen.
Aqua-man and I were convinced that our plans would not be foiled; we had planned out every detail.
I baked a batch of snickerdoodle cookies to enjoy at 14,000ft. and waited for my partner to pick me up. Our journey was about to begin. I checked the weather for Rocky Mountain National Park one last time. Thunderstorms. 30% percent chance. 11am.
I sent a text to Aqua-man telling him our greatest enemy was trying to spoil our plans once again.
“I think I might cry,” he replied. “I stole fruit from my dad and a really nice bottle of wine for tonight and everything.”
“I mean, we can still try if you just want to say fuck the forecast,” I suggested. “Start at midnight.”
“I do have my head lamp packed,” Aqua-man declared.
“How hardcore are you willing to be, is the question” I asked.
We were in his car by 6:00pm with subway sandwiches for dinner, and our journey had begun.
I sweet talked the Beast from our view of her on I-25.
Approaching the Beast
Once we arrived at the Longs Peak Trail Head and Campsite, we began looking for a place to rest our bones for a few hours before we started our ascent. The campsite was full. Full of lame people.
Aqua-man and I had noticed a small Inn off the side of the road while pulling in towards the Trail Head. I declared that I would be willing to splurge and buy us a night’s stay at the Inn, and I forced Aqua-man to inquire about a nights stay while I waited in the car. As we pulled up to what we thought was the main office/check-in we noticed a multitude of parking spots.
“Just tell the clerk we will give them $10 if they let us sleep in their parking lot,” I suggested.
As Aqua-man ascended the patio stairs towards the “check-inn” he was greeted by a few hesitant adults. Aqua-man, being his outgoing and gregarious self, offered his request to the people lounging on the patio.
I then heard a burst of laughter. Aqua-man returned to the car with some bad, but entertaining news.
“This is a music camp for children, not an Inn. I still asked if we could stay in the parking lot, but they said it would be a safety issue.”
We both got a pretty good laugh out of the whole ordeal.
I then suggested that we try to find a spot on the side of a road that would be suitable for sleeping in the car.
We searched for a road that branched off the main highway after deeming that would be the safest place to sleep. We turned onto big owl road and followed it for a few miles until we found the perfect shoulder to park at.
We devoured our subs and drank the stolen wine while sitting on the open back hatch of our transportation and sleeping vessel for the night. The howls of the coyotes radiated around us, and at one point it sounded like they had captured a small yappy dog for a bedtime snack.
The moon hovering over our “campsite”
We laid the seat down in the back of his car and I wrapped myself into a burrito with a blanket that had originally been intended for a sleeping pad; I forgot my sleeping bag. I set my alarm for 12:00am and we settled in for the night, attempting to gather a few hours of rest before our 13 hour hike the next day.
My alarm went off and I hit the snooze button until 12:30am. We tapped up our heels with duct tape to prevent blisters, got dressed, and emptied as much weight as we could out of our packs. We drove to the trail head and were surprised to find 14 other people there, ready to hike as well.
Illuminating our way with a head lamp and flash light, we started the eight mile trek to the top of Longs Peak. About 2.5 miles in we decided the duct tape was a bad idea; it was actually causing blisters to form FASTER. We stopped to remove the troublesome tape and take a short break to rehydrate. Aqua-man cursed me for convincing him to applying my blister prevention to his feet in the first place. Strike one.
While resting on the side of the trail, our bare feet outstretched to allow the perspiration to evaporate before replacing our boots, we met a man. This man had no name; he did not introduce himself or ask for our names. My first impression of him was that he was strange and lonely. He was short, stalking, balding, and he talked WAY too much. He did inform us that he was from Rochester, NY and was hiking the Beast alone. He had been leached onto another group previously, but they were too fast and left him behind.
The nameless man then attached him self to us, hard, and would not let go. He had been possessed with some type of entity that would not allow him to stop talking. He commented on each cairn we passed and grunted with every step he took. At one point Aqua-man and I began reciting the enzymes and substrates of glycolysis and the citric acid cycle, just so he couldn’t get a word in edge wise.
The journey continued above treeline, and we were just south of the now visible flat top summit. No-name continued his rambling. The trail took us around a false summit and up a steep hill to the massive boulder field. It began sprinkling. On went our rain coats. We trekked across the boulder field towards the now visible keyhole. We followed the trail of twinkling headlamps in the distance as we slid across the damp boulders.
Starting the Keyhole Route
Once we were closer to the keyhole, we realized some scrambling would be was ahead of us.
I put my trust in my gortex high-top boots, and gripped desperately to the wet boulders as I crawled up them. A slip would ensure a nasty bruise or even a sprained ankle that would end the trip. The rain began to subside and we finally reached the top of the keyhole.
We stripped the packs of our backs and added an extra layer of clothing. We then took a seat to rest in the cradle of the Keyhole. The nearly full moon illuminated the eerie valley to the west of the keyhole. The views of the shadowy peaks in the distance were breathtaking.
I rewarded the boys with homemade snicker doodle cookies. We sat at the Keyhole waiting for sunrise and hoping for silence. No-name’s rambling was relentless, and it was too dark to begin our navigation of the narrows.
The sun began to shine its light over the eastern plains, flooding the sky with hues of red and orange. The infectious pollution provided by the Denver-metro area allowed for an extraordinary palette colors. We soaked up the rays an warmed our bones before the final and most difficult stretch of the hike.
Sunrise over the eastern plains
No-name wanted to get a move on. It was our chance to set him free. Aqua-man and I announced that we wanted to watch more of the sunrise before we continued our journey. Off he went. The sweet silence that now surrounded us was so satisfying.
Once we had our fill of the sunrise and decided that No-name was now far enough ahead, we began our journey. Aqua-man and I crawled across the boulders of the narrows, following the bulls-eye markers that had been spray painted on the Beast. This portion of the trail was very exposed and most of it towered above a sheer drop off that would lead to certain death with one wrong step.
The class 3 scrambling across the boulders was exhilarating and exhausting. As we encroached closer to the top of the first steep portion of the narrows, we spotted something terrifying. No-name. There he was, resting; waiting. The group he had latched on to obviously left him behind once again, and he probably missed us.
A view from above the narrow trail
Once again, he sunk his claws deep into us and refused to let go. We crawled up the rest of the first steep and were greeted by spectacular views at the top.
The next leg of the hike was even more terrifying than the previous. Aqua-man’s fear of heights kicked in. I enjoyed every second of it. The rush I felt while being on the edge was invigorating. I could not contain myself. Five syllable BEEEAAUUTIFUL exclamations were spilling out of my mouth, and my laughter would come and go in random bursts. I was so excited to be crawling along the narrows of the Beast.
The final push of the hike before the summit was terrifying. We were crawling towards the top of the Beast at a 60 degree angle. The adrenaline coursed through my veins; I was pumped.
The final push
With a few final steps we were finally at the summit of the Beast. The flat top summit seemed to continue around us forever. The bottom of the stratus clouds floating above us seemed within reach. We absorbed the views around us basked in the glory of the Beast. I found a large boulder and humped it, showing my affection towards the Beast.
View from the summit
We explored the perimeter of the flat top summit taking in every second of the experience. We were truly living in the moment. My mind was clear, free, and focused on the task at hand.
We took a seat at the east side of the summit, warmed ourselves in the sunlight, and devoured some treats. It was here that No-name finally surrendered his name; Hal.
After enjoying the summit for 45 minutes, we began our miserable descent. Coming down the steep terrain of the narrows was irritating endless. Hal continued his rambling, and bothered everyone we passed. The population of people now pushing for the summit had increased. The trail contained a cattle drive of unprepared hikers that were stopping to rest every five steeps. We passed a woman who had brought her two children that were no older than 12 years old, harassing them until the point of tears to reach the summit.
I deviated from the trail to mix up the monotony, and found a heart-shaped rock that now occupies my apartment (against the “leave no trace rules,” I know. Get over it). Aqua-man continuously offended the woman descending in front of us with his inappropriate comments and scandalous remarks. It was quite entertaining.
Once we were back at the Keyhole we snapped a few shots of the incredible geologic formation that was now illuminated with plenty of sunlight. The view of the boulder field from the Keyhole was daunting. We had a long hike ahead of us.
The Keyhole
Halfway through the boulder field we came upon some mountain toilets; sweet relief. After doing our business, we informed Hal that we could no longer tolerate his presence, and we were going to continue that journey on our own. This was a difficult concept for him to grasp and it required several explanations.
We took a small break before continuing to allow Hal to gain some distance ahead of us. I could feel the sun’s rays beating down on me, and realized I had not applied any sunscreen. At that altitude, UV protection is essential. It was then that I remembered that I had packed a small packet of sunscreen I had received from a brain-dead bimbo svedka girl at the liquor store. Pina colada scented. I had also brought cap.
“Hey Aqua-man, did you bring a hat? You’re gonna burn up in the sun.”
“No, I left my hat in the car,” he replied.
I informed him that I had brought my hat, so I could wear that and give him the liquor store sunscreen. He appreciated the gesture and accepted the small packet of sun protection.
Aqua-man ripped open the packet, squeezed the contents into his hands, and applied it liberally to his face- as the instructions suggested. It was a very thick substance, and despite continuous lathering, it failed to dissolve into Aqua-man’s skin.
His skin was now chalk white with a faint purple-ish hue caused by his previous sun exposure. I gasped for oxygen as the uncontrollable laughter bellowed out of my core. This was ridiculous.
For solidarity I applied the remainder of the resistant solution to my face and neck. Now we both looked like the living dead of Longs Peak. We wanted to continue our journey with the liquor store sunscreen on our faces, but couldn’t take a single step without breaking out in uncontrollable and painful laughter. We removed the paste with the help of some water and my fleece jacket.
Our journey then continued across the boulder field towards treeline. Our bodies felt drained and broken. Each step required a conscious effort.
A view of The Beast from across the boulder field
We trekked on in silence for the next four more miles. Once we began to approach treeline, a rumble of thunder voiced itself. Victory; we had beaten the dreaded thunderstorms.
Aqua-man and I stayed hopeful as we traveled through the now wooded trail, anticipating the end of each switch back in hopes that the parking lot would soon be visible.
Finally we arrived at the parking lot. 1:45pm.
THE BOOTS CAME OFF and we compared blisters. Aqua-man’s were worse, but mine were still noteworthy. We rested in the back of his car and delighted in the glory of what we had just accomplished. The Beast was conquered. We did it.
With that we pushed off from the trailhead and headed for a celebratory beer in a nearby town.
The day was perfect and everything that I had hoped for. We experienced every dynamic of the mountain; we pushed ourselves to the physical breaking point, met new (and strange) people, beat the storms, watched the sunrise, and enjoyed every second of the excursion.
I’ve been off my meds for about two weeks now. I’m still inconvenienced with the occasional strike of dizziness and nausea. I’ve found that if I consume half a pill when I encounter this predicament I start to feel much better, and I’ve been having to do this on a less regular basis as time progresses. My feelings of hopelessness and despair have decreased and it truly seems like the severity of my depression has decreased with the elimination of my mind controlling meds. Hopefully this is not a short lived trick my brain is playing on me.
However, I am still being struck with anxiety from time to time. I had to leave the coffee shop while studying yesterday because I felt like the sky was going to fall and we were all going to die. I worked through my thinking errors and stumbled upon an antique arm chair for free outside an antique collector’s work shop on my way home. My friends and I have an on going joke that I like I steal things- so this was satisfying in that I felt like I was stealing something and obtaining a antique to add to my collection. I went home and baked a delicious spaghetti squash, which I sautéed with zucchini, tomatoes, garlic, and onions. I finished studying and went to sleep
It was a good night. I felt terrible when my panic attack came on, my hands were shaking, heart was pounding, and my thoughts were racing. But, I made it through and still managed to study enough to ace my biochemistry exam today. I once feared that my condition would consume me and prevent me from achieving my goals and being a successful research scientist someday. This will not beat me. I’m having such an enjoyable time rediscovering myself and my passion for life.
I know there will be dark days ahead, but I will fight through them in hopes of enjoying the sunny and happy days to come. Life is good. I just need to open my eyes and appreciate the little things.
Damsel in Profess 