I checked out of about everything and went to the Tetons for a week.
At the time, I was in a very bad spot, mentally and emotionally. Not really… “bad”, but… weird, uncomfortable. I broke down stressed and bawling the night before I left, about so many things… okay, yeah, "bad".
For a while now, I’ve been telling everyone that things were good and that I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in a long time.
That was (is) absolutely 100% true! However, I’ve also felt like I’m drowning. I feel freer, more accepted, loved, and supported than I’ve been in a long, long time (forever?). But… well, I won’t trot out all of the reasons and excuses why I felt like I was drowning. Now I feel the simple answer is that I was, pardon me for saying, lost in my own bullshit.
This Tetons trip had been a dream for years. I almost talked myself out of it, several times, but I went. It was long days in the field with a good friend who is a professional photographer and some of her fellow photographers. I wasn’t sure what to expect: I was sure it would be fun, it’d be good to see my friend again after several years, maybe I’d take a few pictures, before I returned home to my mess (literally and figuratively).
Instead… I came back on fire to get to work, handle my, uhem, bullshit, and get back to what’s important to me. After getting home late last night and passing out, I was up and cleaning my disaster of a studio at 6am this morning and I've only come to a pause now, at nearly 5 pm, to write this post that's been swirling in my head.
I think this was in part due to the time away, but also time with a good friend, and several other lovely, supportive, and creative people, that I now consider friends. It was long days from before sunrise to after sunset in a breathtakingly gorgeous area - mountains and aspen trees feed my soul. It was extensive time and freedom to play with changing lenses on a camera (for the very first time), messing with settings, taking pictures of moose, pronghorn, elk, birds, squirrels, trees, sunsets, and sunrises.
It was sitting for an hour or more - I have no idea, it doesn't matter - in near silence with a resting herd of pronghorn and realizing only now that I was nowhere else during those quiet moments than right there sitting in the sage, behind a small pine tree. My mind didn't wander, I had no anxiety, fear, panic, or uncertainty.
It was also choosing to listen to audible most of the way there and back. I started with a tried and true kick in the butt titled "The War of Art" by Steven Pressfield. I've read it once or twice in the past and listened to it at least once before. I wanted a refresher. In re-adding that to my library, I discovered a couple of sequels. I also added a few other books by other authors that caught my eye.
In addition to a bit of music, here's what I listed to on the drive there and back (2,000 miles and change).
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| Picture from Audible |
I hesitate to say that "I'm back!" (whatever that means) but I do feel that I can fully acknowledge that I've fallen prey to Resistance (from "The War of Art") over and over and over again, particularly during the last year. I do not want to lose the momentum that's carrying me through today. One day at a time, I plan to keep going, focusing on what's important to me, and staying aware of how I can trip myself up (oh, there are so many ways).
The author of "UnF*ck Yourself" also has other books, including a companion book to it with a workbook to dig deep into your life and... well, unf*ck things. I listened to part of that book on the last leg of the trip and I'd like to chip away at the workbook. He is Scottish and reads his own books in an entertaining and engaging way (Steven Pressfield reads his, too, and is great). He had me laughing and also just going "wow..." at some of the uncomfortable truths I recognized - while I also marveled at how different his coaching is from others. I have tried several "self help" type books over the years, but these 4 books are, in a word: refreshing. They are a gut punch, but it's a good one.
I needed it.
