Listening to: Angus & Julia Stone – Cape Forestier
I’m sitting in the train station waiting for my train to San Francisco, alone, smiling, at nobody and nothing in particular. I’ve said my goodbyes, I have left everything in my house in order for my brother to send boxes, for my friend to watch Marble. All I have are the things on my back to worry about.
Part of me doesn’t believe it’s real yet. I have spent 6 months preparing for this exact moment, and now it’s here, but it’s almost like I don’t want to jinx it by believing that this is actually my reality.
I’m hiking the PCT. I’m hiking the PCT. I’m hiking the PCT. Maybe if I say it enough times I’ll believe it?
I couldn’t even tell you what it is that I feel right now. Terrified, exhilarated, sad, and happier than I’ve ever felt in my life.
One of the strangest emotions I’ve been feeling, is grief. I’m grieving my old life – a life I couldn’t wait to shed and leave behind. But it’s still a form of grief to become something new.
Last night, I packed and repacked my bag probably 20 times, trying to cut out any last minute weight. My first aid kit weighed TWO pounds. Yes, two whole pounds. I packed a number of medications that I used to need frequently, just in case. Medications for nausea, nerve pain, insomnia, muscle spasms, migraines, inflammation. What if I needed them again? I looked at the prescription dates and many were more than two years old. I hadn’t taken these medications in YEARS, but I had kept them in a bin in my bathroom. Just in case.
It made me feel better knowing they were there, but I’m not sick anymore. I’m not that version of myself anymore. The surgeries, the hundreds of injections into my spine, the medications, the therapies, the appointments, the tests – it’s over. It’s really over.
I’m hiking the PCT. It’s time to let go. I took the medications out of my backpack, and threw them away.
Maybe a previous version of me packed her fears. But not me. I’m hiking the PCT.
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