I went backpacking

 I went backpacking.

I went backpacking Memorial Day weekend to ground myself, reset myself, and get away from everything that had been occurring over the past few days previously. Friday night I attempted to pack my bag, but my mind was too scattered, unable to focus on even the simplest of tasks of packing up my quilt and grabbing pajamas for the trail. Saturday morning I awoke, anxiety still looming, panic moving slowly throughout me, but at least I had a clear head. I gathered my equipment, my food, and prepared for an errand I needed to run prior to leaving. In the middle of packing and preparing a text came through from a dear friend: call me. My heart sank and my heart-rate skyrocketed, the panic began swirling faster and I took deep breaths, reminding myself I was safe. I replied with a simple, I will try, but I am not OK right now. A boundary, a piece of self-care, and a reminder to my friend that I had told them I needed space.

As I finished my packing and my errands my mind swirled, no response from my friend. I finally text them again: is everything OK? No response. I began my northwest drive to the trailhead, munching on my breakfast finally deciding that I will call when I finish eating. I knew I could ignore them, but my mind was swirling and spinning and I'd be thinking about it so I knew the best course was to deal with it head on. My phone rang and it was my friend. Nothing was wrong, but the conversation did not go well. We argued, picked at each other, and eventually I had to say I'm not OK, I'm not having this conversation right now, we can continue it when we're both in a better place. On I drove, music off and on, GPS guiding me.

I picked up my pack, loaded it on and headed south on the Appalachian Trail towards Duncannon, determined to close out another section. I was completing a section I had been avoiding because of a road walk. I headed down the mountain, across the Susquehanna, through the town, and then back up a new mountain. There I set-up camp at Hawk Rock, a lovely little outcropping with an incredible view of the river and land. I knew I needed to ground myself more, so instinctively I decided to cowboy camp (sleep on the ground without my tent). I was nervous, but felt safe and gave myself permission to setup my tent at any point in the night. The locals and I enjoyed a beautiful sunset and I drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter. A porcupine awoke me around 4am, and the sunlight woke me around 5, with the locals coming in around 6 to watch the sunrise. It was the first morning I woke up without anxiety looming and panic lingering. My head the clearest it had been in days. Sunrise, breakfast in bed, and then I was up and off to retrace my steps, now headed north to close out more miles in this Pennsylvania section.

A long 16+ mile day of hiking, but slow. I ambled about, not caring about time, just letting my body be and my mind wander. There were daydreams, there were prayers, there was quiet. There were other hikers that I passed and chatted with, whereas the day before I kept to myself, barely talking to anyone. I could feel myself coming back into me, coming back into my body, my soul grounding within me. On one particular section I fell into such a rhythm that I fairly forgot I was in Pennsylvania as my mind had drifted to other places. As the day progressed and I spoke with more people I felt more and more comfortable. I set-up camp at the shelter, my tent my home for the night. I ate my dinner among other hikers and attempted to chat with them, but the fatigue of the day and the previous days had caught up and I quickly excused myself. 

Tucked away in my tent I found myself again. The social interactions in passing in the day had been just enough, but dinner had been beyond my limits. A thru-hiker set his tent up across from mind and we conversed through our tents. I felt safe in my tent, away from him, but enjoyed the social interaction. It was a small gift given to me. That night I needed the security of my tent, just the same way I needed to sleep in the open the night before. This long anxiety and panic attack at least had me listening intuitively to my body and my needs in a new way. When your nervous system has been on overdrive for days filtering information becomes challenging and this time in the quiet of nature with the healing power of movement I was finding that connection between myself and my needs.

Monday morning I awoke, rested and connected. Grounded. Calm. No anxiety, no panic, just me. It was another gift. One I gave myself, one I spent the weekend working towards.

As I hiked back to my car all I could think was "I went backpacking"

Hawk Rock Sunset