Clever Escape

We got back from camping yesterday afternoon, unloaded the truck in 110 degree heat and took a long, air conditioned nap.

Camping was so nice. For the most part, it was very quiet. There was no TV, no internet, no radio, no phones (we turned them off), nothing. It was lovely.

We drove up to Oak Creek Canyon, which is just north of Sedona, to a campground up there. For the most part, camping on national forest land (which this is) has to be done in a campground. We did manage to find a trail that allows backpackers to camp “out there” so long as you are at least six miles down the fourteen mile trail. Something to remember for the future.

We decided that we didn’t like the site that we had reserved (it was right by the road) so we looked around and found another site that was first-come-first-served and the campground host was cool with us moving over there. They said it was arguably the best site there because it was right in view of the cliffs, right next to the creek, and behind a bunch of trees and down a path so it was pretty private. I liked it. As soon as I stop being lazy I will upload some pictures.

The day we got there it was about 85 degrees, then cooled down to 70, and dropped from there as soon as the sun set. I was cold and glad I brought a hoodie and sweatpants to sleep in, because it was freezing that night! We didn’t expect it to get that cold and hadn’t gotten the sleeping bag out, just a blanket, so I woke up shivering and had to get it out in the middle of the night.

Mostly we occupied ourselves going hiking, playing cards and driving down to Slide Rock. Hiking was pretty cool. The first trail we did was right across the road from the campground and the host said that it was rated “strenuous”, which we discovered meant that it was a mile and a half straight up. Definitely strenuous. Last year I would have had a horrible time with it, but with all the running I have been doing, it wasn’t so bad. I actually surprised myself.

My husband, the smoker with asthma, had a harder time.

So up, up, up we went, stopping for view/water/icantbreathecauseimasmoker breaks and then, ten feet from the top of the mountain we were almost done climbing, I saw this:

under a rock between me and the top of the mountain (note: not actual picture of the snake, we did not have our camera with us because it was an extremely steep climb).

That would be a (as we later found out) Milksnake. Non-venomous, basically harmless. But we didn’t know that at the time.

Bastard snake.

I know, as I’m sure that most of you are aware, that things that are bright colors are bright colors as a warning that they are bad for you. I naturally assumed that this snake was bad for me and refused to go near it. Which included not finishing the last ten feet of the crazy hard trail we had just hiked.

My husband had other plans.

He got up all close to it and was looking at it’s head and trying to make it move and stuff. Moron. Then he dragged me around it and up to the top of the trail.

Then we had to go back down again, only from above, you can’t see under the rock that it had been hiding under. No idea if it was still where we had left it or not. So I made him sneak around and find it, and then I ran way, way around it and back down the trail. Far, far away from the snake.

Ech.

That was our one and only encounter with a snake while we were up there. Well, that I saw anyhow. I heard plenty of sounds that could have been snakes, but did not bother to look and verify.

However, we did manage to meet a variety of other creatures, which I will write about later.

Have you ever thought about how fabulous breathing is? How good it feels to fill your lungs with air, and then slowly let it out again?

I love breathing (lol). It just feels good to sit and feel the air going in, filling up my lungs, then slowly flowing back out again.

It is not easy to concentrate on breathing. Conveniently, it is one of those things you don’t have to think about doing, it just happens. Thank goodness or I would have issues staying alive, since I tend to get distracted easily. But when you do just sit there, feeling your lungs filling and then emptying them, feeling everything going in and out, it is refreshing and helps me to focus.

My husband will probably read this and laugh cause he says this is something that Sunshine would say. One of those things that children wonder about. He says that to me a lot lately.

For instance, the other day we were in the pool and I commented how cool water feels. If you stand completely still in still water, you don’t really know that you are under water. Except that, you know, you are wet. Then you move and it all ripples around you. Wiggle your fingers and it flows right through. You can float on it, or suspend yourself in it. You can pick your feet up and not worry about falling. Push it around and you move. It is pretty cool!

I like to float on my back in the pool and watch the birds flying around. There is a pair of hawks that fly around above our apartment complex. It is very relaxing to watch them gliding along through the sky.

If all this makes me like a child, oh well! I like thinking about these things. I like to wonder at the things around me, things that I would normally take for granted during the course of my day. I think it is part of truly enjoying life. Take a second and just feel what is going on around you. The sights, sounds and smells of the world. What things feel like.

When we grow up, I think we lose the sense of wonder that the world brings to us. We take it for granted. We are told, whether directly or by example, that grown-ups don’t think about things like that anymore. That a sense of having already “been there, done that” is part of being mature and experienced, and that is important to be mature and experienced. Yet so many people let life and time pass them by while they concentrate on working and doing what society expects them to do, valuing what they are expected to value, believing what they are expected to believe.

What a waste of the one thing we can never beg, borrow or steal - Time.

If you had to write a letter to yourself, from the perspective of your own best friend, what would you write?

Try to take that step back and look at your own life as an outsider. It’s not so easy. A screen of your own emotion blurs the reasoning behind choices you have made, memories of events, your perception of meanings and intentions of others.

I look back at my life and wonder how the hell I got to where I am. I think of who I used to be, and who I have become.

I distinctly remember who I used to be.

Part of that person I was, I liked, loved. I had issues, but I could deal with them. I could deal with them because of who I was.

My dad moving out when I was 16 was such an immense relief, a huge stress left our house and I could breathe for the first time. Not that he is altogether a bad guy, but there were major issues. None of which I want to get into here. Just issues.

I was raised Baptist. Being Baptist defined who I was, who I could hang out with, what I did, what music I listened to, where I went, what I wore, the movies I saw…everything. Everything was defined for me. I had no personal choices to make, they were told to me. I had no self.

Then my dad moved out and I discovered what that meant. It meant I could go, and do, and be whomever the hell I wanted to be. So I did. I went out and did whatever I wanted. My church lost all of my respect. I hate people that say one thing, then live another. Hypocrites.

I figured out who I was.

From my parents divorce I learned the value of independence. Of being able to do it all for myself. Of not having to rely on anyone for anything. I didn’t rely on my parents, my friends, my family, my boyfriend…nobody. I could do it all on my own.

I also learned not to depend on people to be there when you needed them.

So I didn’t trust anyone. Well, very few people. VERY.

I was strong, on my own. Independent. I was afraid of nothing. I thrived on change, new ideas, experiences, challenges. Very few things got to me. Except, maybe, on occasion, the fear of being alone. That has always been with me, somewhere in there. Usually even that doesn’t/didn’t get to me.

That person started to leave me two years ago. That person was forced to go somewhere…I don’t know where…but I wish I did. Cause that would make finding her again a whole hell of a lot easier.

Somewhere in there I lost who I was. I no longer speak out as much as I did, my thoughts trapped in my own mind like never before. Suddenly making other people happy became more important than making myself happy. Suddenly relationships with other people became really important to me. Really important. Where before, in most instances, they never really were. I never cared about having a lot of friends around. I had the ones I *thought* I needed, and that was enough for me.

Now I sit here, thinking over these two years, of everything I have done, the choices I have made, and I don’t recognize myself. And I don’t like it that much.

I used to cherish my alone time. Now it makes me nervous. I used be able to sit and draw for hours, and know exactly what I wanted to make and why. I haven’t drawn anything for two years. I used to know what I wanted in life. Now I have no idea. I used to love change and taking risks. Now the idea makes me nervous.

Sometimes I get confused when I hear feedback from people. Not everybody, just a chosen few, who have a perception of me that I don’t recognize.

I’ve been told I am ruled by my own emotions. I’d never heard that, until that moment. I have never considered myself to be ruled by my emotions. But looking back now, I can see where people who did not know me before, would get that impression.

I hate that the last eight months, basically, have been me being controlled by what I’m feeling. More so by what others are feeling. I have become so concerned and preoccupied by other people I have totally forgotten about myself.

I am so there for other people, yet they are never there for me.

Those first two months after my miscarriage? I found out who my friends are. The ones who actually called me, checked up on me, forced us to go out in the middle of my haze of not wanting to go, or do, or be with anyone. Those people are my friends. Those are the people that I should care about, despite being constantly distracted by people that don’t appear to care about me unless it benefits them in some way.

Those are the people I should be dropping, and shouldn’t be letting bother me. They are holding me back from who I used to be, and want to be again.

So what would I write in a letter to myself? I would remind myself of who I was, when I was happy. Who I was striving to be. Who my real friends are, and how I used to care less about those who weren’t. How much I used to love my life, and live like it. How strong I am, somewhere in there.

And that I can and will find that person again, if I really want to.

And I will.

I can’t sleep. Again, too many thoughts in my head. Sometimes I wish they would get out already.

That and the ceiling in our bathroom is leaking water and it is a really loud dripping noise and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

On to my thoughts:

Have I mentioned I hate liars?

Hate them.

Of all the negative qualities a person could have, I detest lying the most.

And more than anything? People that profess to be your friend, and then lie to you.

Friends don’t lie to each other!

Do they?

When I was a teenager I had a lot of time to think. Well, I had a lot of time until I was 16 and my dad moved out. Then I mostly partied. But until then…I was thinking.

One popular stream of thought was the difference between telling the truth and being honest.

Did you know there is a difference? There is. A huge difference.

Telling the truth is what you do when a lie doesn’t actually come out of your mouth. Everything you say is a perfectly factual statement.

Being honest is more than that. Being honest is telling the whole reality - not hiding anything, or holding anything back. Being honest is not denying what is really going on and being totally open about it. Not being honest is…lying.

Right when I came to this conclusion, I decided that I would be honest, from that day forth. I would strive to always be honest, not just tell the truth. It was hard at first, but got easier with time.

Way easier. Almost too easy.

I try my damndest to always be honest. Always. Sometimes it works for me, sometimes not. Sometimes it causes bigger issues. Sometimes it fixes or prevents things from becoming issues. Every time is worth it.

I always say it exactly how it is. I do not lie to manipulate a situation. I do not lie to achieve a goal. I do not lie to make myself feel good about something. I do not even lie to spare someone’s feelings. I am honest, as much as I can be.

Honesty has given me a lot. A lot less pain in wondering whether a rumor is true. I just go ask the source. A lot less wondering about what someone really meant. I ask them. A lot less concern about whether I should tell someone something or not. I never wonder. I just tell them.

What more do people deserve, than honesty? In what other way can I show respect for them, as a person, then by being completely truthful? How else do you earn trust?

Sure, I slip sometimes. Everyone slips up. But then I correct myself. I admit it when I am wrong. I apologize. I take the blame and I move on. I do not try to deny anything. Ever.

There are those who think that I am too honest, at times. It makes people uncomfortable.

I figure, if it makes you uncomfortable, you must not be a very honest person, and maybe I shouldn’t be around you anymore.

I try not to look down on those people, but it is hard to respect someone who does not see the value in honesty. The ease in not talking in circles, in just saying how it is instead of making people guess.

People that talk in circles to avoid direct honesty confuse me. Why not just say it how it is? Why make people wonder what is really going on, what you really think, what really happened? Why delay the truth? Do they like the anticipation of the truth being discovered? Don’t they see that by delaying it, they only make it worse? Because by talking in circles, around the truth, you let the person know that you know what the truth is, but you aren’t telling them what it is. What kind of a person does that? What kind of a friend does that?

These people irritate me to no end.

Then there are people, who instead of talking in circles and gradually coming to some semblance of the truth, ignore the entire situation.

They believe everything that they hear, everything that they glean from fractions of the truth, every rumor, every opinion expressed to them. They believe the liars, and they take it all at face value.

Then they run away from the truth. It is too hard to face. It is too hard to go to whomever it is and say what they really feel about something, and find out what they really feel about it.

Those people are too weak to handle being honest. Instead of facing the issue, they run away from it. I pity these people. I pity their weakness. I pity their inability to stand for something, to work for something, to risk something, anything. These people can never have a meaningful relationship with anybody. A true friendship.

These people have to be the loneliest people on earth.

And they have my pity.

But they will never have my heart.

My true friends have my heart. All of it. I love them. There are very few, but they are everything to me. Sometimes I wonder if they even know or understand this, and what it means. What it means I would do for them.

Pathological and compulsive liars will never have anything of me. People that lie for no reason at all. People that lie for fun. People that insist on a lie, despite being faced with the truth time and time again. I cannot stand people like that. I cannot stand people that make me question my own memory, my own truth, things that I have witnessed, with their insistence of a different version of what my truth is.

I cannot stand these people. The thought of people that are like that make me sick.

So when I begin to question the words of a friend, a friend that has/had my whole heart, it is terribly hard. I hate that I have to question everything that person says. I hate that I have to think back to everything that person has said and done, and question whether it was all real. Whether that person was being as honest with me, as I always am with them. Whether they deserved the trust I bestowed on them.

I put final determinations off.

I look for more evidence.

And then more.

And more.

I beg to be proven wrong. I want to be wrong. I don’t want my friend, someone I loved with all my heart, to be a liar. To have not been honest with me.

Because that would make my heart the keeper of one less friend.

And give me one more reason not to trust people.

And I hate that most of all.

I pulled a muscle.

Two, actually.

In the back of my right leg.

Which means no more running for a while. Which sucks because I love running and was doing really well. At least this is the week that I cut back on mileage.

Do you know how hard it is to go up and down stairs when you can’t use the muscles in the back of your thigh?

It is quite challenging. You have to do this thing with your quads and pull your knee back straight, which puts stress on my knee so then that hurts. I figure that by the time the back of my leg is healed, my knee will be busted.

I would try to avoid stairs, but that would mean not leaving my apartment since we live on the second floor.

At least it isn’t the third floor.

AND

I took the robots.txt file out of the root.

This makes me a little nervous.

I kind of liked being cut off so that people couldn’t find me. Well, I liked it, but I didn’t. This is more about refusing to stress about Sunshine’s mother anymore than being worried about random people reading my blog.

I absolutely refuse to let her have any control over my life.

At least any more control that she already has, which I am determined to lessen as well.

I wrote a new “About” page, since my purpose has changed since I first started writing.

And I started my list of things to do before I die. Which is a pretty short list, but I know there are more things I want to do, I just have to remember what they are…damn my memory!

I have yet to go to Google and let them put my site back on there. I am going to do it, damn it all!

Just not right now.