The Trek of Life

Mental health is a subject I both enjoy and loathe talking about. I’ve found sharing my experiences with others is both incredibly cathartic and uncomfortably vulnerable. Which is why I love fiction writing. It often feels safer to explore tough situations, traumas, grief, and shame through the emotional distance a character can give. But fiction is not a substitute, it is a tool. It is necessary to face real discomfort in order to heal.

Before I dive deeper, I would like to say that I am in no way a medical professional. Any advice or experiences I share are mine and mine alone. As such, they should not be used in place of professional help. We are all different. We see the world through different eyes, different worldviews, and different experiences. Please seek professional medical opinions and do not use this blog in place of professional services. If you feel the desire to harm yourself, please call The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. You can also text GO to 741741 to reach a trained Crisis Counselor or chat with them online at suicidepreventionlifeline.org. Please use them if you need to. They are available 24/7.

All that said, I share my stories as an encouragement to others who find themselves in similar circumstances and to spread awareness for those who simply want or need to learn more about mental illness. This is designed to be a safe place for all involved and I will never share any comments or stories my readers wish to send me.

We all have negative life experiences, entire chapters or singular moments that shape, break, and change us. It’s easy to say, “That’s just how life is. Deal with it.” But I do not hold to that philosophy. Yes, life can be hard. Life can crush and maim and contort the person you are or want to be. But it can also be glorious and joyful and pure beyond imagination.

I like to think of life’s journey as a cross country backpacking trek. The things you pack in your bag can either help or harm you. You can’t constantly fill your pack without taking something out. If you fill and fill and fill, your pack is too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself (and possibly others) when you lose your balance and fall. You have to unload. Leave behind that which serves no purpose for your goals.

Pack for the journey according to your trail and destination. You don’t need a cast iron skillet on the trail. It’s heavy and cumbersome and takes up space better filled by a lightweight, compact tent that will keep you dry or a sleeping back that will keep you warm. The proper tools, the healthy coping mechanism, are essential for every trek.

Treat yourself as gently as you treat your feet on a hike. Bandage what needs bandaging. Put on dry socks. Take a rest when you need it. The trail will still be there when you’re ready to stand again.

Of course, on your journey towards the person you want to be, there will be amazing views. But every mountain summited is a mountain you must descend. Some declines are gentle and lead to other breathtaking views. Some declines are only a small bend in the trail to show you the view from a different direction. And some declines are more of an uncontrolled tumble over the cliff where you hit every pebble, bush, and boulder on the way down.

But life works in balances. It cannot be all good, or all bad. Without the bad, the good is not near as bright. Without the good, there is no hope in the dark. The bad hurts and the good never seems to last long enough. The valleys feel eternal and the summits don’t seem high enough. But you cannot get a diamond without a certain amount of pressure.

What I have found, for me, is everything is bearable when my goal is to learn. I approach each experience with a smidge of curiosity.

What can I learn from this?

How can I do better?

Healing often comes when we are brave enough to name our flaws. We all have them. I am quick to anger, I spend money impulsively (much to my husband’s irritation), and I am a master at starting projects but I rarely ever finish them. I am depressed. I am manic. I’m a terrible housekeeper and an excellent procrastinator. I am impatient. Messy. Aloof. Stubborn. The list is long. There is no shame in calling our flaws by name, unless we do nothing to change them.

Life is a constant metamorphosis.

I am quick to anger but I am working towards patience. Instead of starting new projects, I am chipping away at the ones I’ve already set in motion. On days when I don’t want to touch a single chore, I force myself to choose just one. When I dig my heels in, I remind myself that healthy relationships are about open communication and collaboration.

We will never reach our best, but we can work towards being better.

I will probably die with my stubbornness clenched in my fist. I hope I at least hold some patience in the other hand.

I am comforted by the knowledge that I don’t need to be my best. John Steinbeck wrote in East of Eden, “And now that you do not need to be perfect, you can be good.”

Do the work you can right now, right here. Do better and leave the rest to unfold as it does. We cannot control this life, but we can learn.

We can soak up every lesson life has in store for us. We can grow and change and evolve.

We can be better in this moment than we were in the last.

And that’s enough.

It’s not always comfortable, but it’s enough.

Little changes are still changes.

Change compounds over time.

A year from now, five, ten, you might just look back and discover you’ve healed along the way, all those little changes led to a transformation you didn’t see until you were already far past it.

Be honest with yourself as you go through your day.

Ask, “What can I learn, right here, right now.” Because we get this moment right here, right now, and it’s gone.

All these moments to learn. We get all this lifetime to learn.

And that’s spectacular.

We don’t need to reach the end and say, “I know it all.” We just need to say, “I learned.”

On the bad days, the Bad Bad, Breaking Point Days, when I ask myself “Why am I fighting so hard to stay alive, why do I keep kicking in this fight.” I answer, “I’m not done learning yet.”

I’m not done yet.

I’m not done yet.

As long as there’s a lesson to learn, I’m not done yet.

Commit to doing better in one moment today. That’s all. Seize one moment and leave the rest be.

I wonder, what will you learn today?