Friday night as I left the office, I was in tears, dreading my weekend alone. It was as if I was going into solitary confinement, which is regarded as cruel and unusal punishment. How on earth could I possibly go 48 hours without talking to anyone? I've been neurotic speed talking lately. It is hard enough to have the Boy gone and deciding on a boarding school, but I am also mourning the state of my marriage and the separation. And it doesn't help that everyone on my team at works work from home on Friday. Everyone. It totally sucks. This should be the least of my problems, but work seems to be one of the things that isn't totally fucked up in my life (in addition to my awesome and supportive friend base.)
"You can work from home, Lauren," says everyone on my team, which is not the point. Everyone I work with lives with their family or a significant other besides me. Since I don't have anyone at home and I have a six minute commute, why should I sully my living space with the work vibe?
I digress. The point was Friday was a meh day. I am getting bummed out thinking how mediocre it was.
I was crying at Frank's produce Friday after work when I was buying supplies for my trip. Chaz, the produce guy, came up and introduced himself to me. Chaz has a reputation among the downtowners as being the best produce guy in town. Seriously. I had heard of the legendary Chaz and I met him Friday. I read somewhere in some blog or maybe the Atlantic about the power of interactions with strangers, that it can boost our mood more than we would expect. I don't know why, but maybe that explains why people like traveling by themselves to other countries for long periods of time without a companion -- maybe the "talking to stranger" effect kicks in.
I digress again. By time I packed and Fox and I were on the road, I was gleeful. Delighted. Giddy. I was driving my trusty steed, the Q5. Fox was in a good mood. Maybe my brief interaction with Chaz gave me the lift I needed to get out of town. Who knows? As my colleague James says when I am in a good mood, "Don't question it."
Maybe the calming thing was I was going to Ellen's cabin, one of my most favorite places on earth. It is rustic and has no internet, no television, no cell phone coverage.
 |
| Breakfast |
Over the course of the weekend, I did four hikes, three of which I had never done before, which was nice. The weather forecast was for thunderstorms, so the park wasn't that crowded except for out-of-town tourists. Most of the locals stayed home. The places in the park I visited were covered in fog, which is a nice metaphor for where my life is now -- not clear, not bright, but hazy and uncertain.
As I was walking, I enountered lots of people--families, groups of friends, people hiking alone. I realized none of these people knew any of the shit in my life right now, and that was nice. As far as they knew, I was just another hiker, not a woman who was struggline with her crumbing marriage and messed up kid.
The second day, I went to Ohanapecosh in the southeast corner of the park. I had been there before, but never did the Silver Falls hike. I was walking along and came to a bridge with a beautiful waterfall. It is really hard to get a good picture of a waterfall. The movement and the noise are the best parts. I figured I hiked a mile to see this waterfall, I wasn't going to rush past it like everyone else was.
Over the trip, I was reading Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed by Lori Gottlieb. She writes about James Prochaska's transtheoretical model of behavior change, which was also taught at Wilderness Parents Weekend.
Stage 1: Pre-contemplation
Stage 2: Contemplation
Stage 3: Preparation
Stage 4: Action
Stage 5: Maintenance
Gottlieb talks about how people do the same thing over and over until they are ready to change: "Although often maddening for friends and partners to witness, this hamster wheel is part of the process" (page 283).
I've been on the hamster wheel, and the walk through Mount Rainier helped to step off it for a bit.
Back to the Silver Falls trail. The river sounds really loud, like an airplane kind of loud which I thought was strange. As I turned the corner, I saw the massive and powerful waterfall.
More important than the waterfall, is what the water looks like on the other side...
There are quiet, calm spots that aren't in turmoil. Maybe the water is still churning, but it isn't in a crazy phase. So this is where I am right now--I am a drop in the middle of a waterfall, making lots of noise, uncertain where I am going to land.
After my two days in the woods crossing paths with strangers and then going home to Fox, I realized that I felt much less emotionally labile than I did, say, Friday afternoon when I was crying to poor Chaz. Instead of solitary confinement, I found Walden. Looking at the waterfall and then at the calm below, I felt some peace. Whatever happens, I am going to be okay. Probably there are few more rocks to hit, but hopefully eventually I'll make it someplace relatively still.
No comments:
Post a Comment