What Is There to be Afraid Of? (Besides Everything)

You know, when I was a kid, I was afraid of everything. The dark, frogs, big dogs, social interaction, my own shadow- you name it, I was scared of it. And there was never any reason to push through my fear- if I didn’t like frogs, I just wouldn’t get near them. Intimidated by social interaction? There was always someone more outgoing to do it for me- my parents, my sister, friends. And nobody I knew ever pushed themselves either- ever did anything crazy, or outside of their comfort zone. Sure, you heard about people in the news who did amazing things, like climb incredible mountains, explore exotic places, jump out of planes- but those people were never real to me. I just read about them in books or magazines- for all I knew, they didn’t even exist. Real people didn’t do crazy things- real people went to college, got nice jobs, bought a house, started a family, and lived a very comfortable life devoid of risk or fear. And that was the only option I knew, so that was how I lived my life. Hell, I wouldn’t even watch scary movies- why make yourself afraid or uncomfortable if you didn’t have to? 

But then, one winter day two years ago, sitting on my tiny faux-leather couch in a studio apartment in Biddeford, Maine, suddenly my safe, comfortable life wasn’t good enough anymore. I’m a merchant marine, a job with a bit of a crazy schedule- I work and live on the ship for 2-3 months at time, and then in turn I have 2-3 months off. And I had spent my time off doing basically nothing for the first few trips. Sure, I hung out with my boyfriend at the time, smoked way too many cigarettes, spent a good chunk of the money I had made on my previous trip on clothes and shoes, and went for runs or to the gym on a regular basis. But I didn’t really do anything. I hadn’t travelled anywhere on vacation aside from one family trip to Florida when I was 12, and certainly not alone. I had hardly ever spent time outdoors, had never once been camping, I didn’t have any cool hobbies or interests- I essentially just lived my life until it was time to get back on the ship and make more money. But in that moment, something shifted- my satisfactory life had suddenly become entirely unacceptable. I wanted to do something exciting with my free time- to step out of the box. 

I sat on my pleather couch, drinking my one Organic Michelob Ultra for the night, racking my brain- what was I interested in? And then, when nothing came to mind, I thought even harder- what could I see myself becoming interested in? As I sat there thinking, an image popped into my head of a very brief time in my childhood. One summer, we had gone to a place called Bar Harbor, a beautiful town in northern Maine, with some family friends. While we were there, we had gone hiking. Most everyone else disliked it, or wanted it to be over, but I remembered hopping from rock to rock, loving every second of the hike, and being disappointed when it was time to turn back. At the end of it my mom even bought me a hiking hat. But that was one of the very few times we ever went on a hike, or did anything else outdoors, for the rest of my childhood. But as I sat in my tiny apartment searching for ways to make my life more exciting, I thought to myself, “maybe I would still like hiking.” And that was it. I began googling places I could go to hike, and settled on Arizona- another place that I wasn’t sure even really existed, and that might as well have been another planet as I sat looking at pictures of cactuses and red sand. I went online, booked a spot in a campground for three nights in February, bought a plane ticket, and I was on my way to a new life.

When I told my boyfriend at the time about my plans, he asked if I was cheating on him. When I responded with shock and confusion, he told me that I must have another boyfriend there, because why else would anyone want to go to Arizona? My family questioned my going alone, but when I told them that I would take anyone with me who could make the time to go, there weren’t any takers. And on top of the push-back from almost everyone I knew, another obstacle arose- I had never been camping before, which meant I didn’t know the first thing about how to do it. I didn’t have a tent, I had never built a fire, and I wasn’t even sure what else you would need to go camping besides those two things. So a period of intense googling ensued, in which I discovered that I would in fact need a tent, and would also need a large amount of other gear- a sleeping bag, a backpack, hiking boots, and probably many other things that I certainly didn’t buy. So I took my list (tent, boots, sleeping bag) to a place called Reny’s- a discount “Maine Adventure” store. I bought a pair of Timberland hiking boots, because I wore Timberland steel-toes at work and I wasn’t sure what else you would wear to go outdoors. I bought a small sleeping bag, the smallest I could find, that was apparently rated for 50 degrees, a number that sounded reasonable for the desert in February. And, much to my excitement, wandering around Reny’s I stumbled upon a shelf full of boxes labeled “backpacking tent”- a bright orange Ozark Trail one-person tent for 49.99. Sold. My backpack situation had been covered, because my boyfriend, feeling badly about his allegations regarding my double life, had bought me a hiking backpack for my trip. One more purchase- a single hiking pole that was as tall as I was, which I picked up from Cabela’s in an attempt to be as prepared as possible- and I was on my way. 

The look on the ticket agent’s face when I tried to check my backpack was one of extreme confusion. “What is that?” Standing there in my black thermal turtleneck, black leggings and hiking boots, looking like I was about to rob the place, I looked at her and said condescendingly “a hiking pole..?” Unsure why the single staff, a more appropriate word than pole for what I was carrying, tied to the front of my backpack with white rope and probably looking like some kind of weapon, was a confusing sight. “Ok…” she said as she picked up the backpack, “I’m going to put this in a plastic bag…” Thanking her, I got onto the plane with nothing else but my wallet and a book- I had only brought the backpack full of my camping supplies. No change of clothes, no extra items- just the necessities…so I told myself. 

The camping trip was fun overall, even though I was so afraid of the coyotes I heard after dark that I ended up renting a car and sleeping in it for two out of the three nights. A 50-degree sleeping bag was in fact not warm enough for the desert in February, and I forgot about food until the last minute, so I went to Walmart and bought a container of banana nut muffins, a couple granola bars, and nothing else. By the third day, I smelled terrible, I was exhausted from lack of sleep, and I was also incredibly proud of myself. My first camping trip- I had survived, and that alone was a success in my book. But the more important conclusion I drew from this trip was that I did in fact still love hiking- I loved it even more than I had remembered- and that I didn’t need to wait for anyone else to come with me, or for anyone’s approval, to go out and do the things I wanted. It was my life, and therefore I was the only one who had any say in what I did with it. And now that I knew I could go on a hiking trip alone and live to tell the tale, I needed more. 

Sometimes I think about that moment, sitting on my small, crooked couch, and wonder what my life would be like if I had thought to myself “maybe I would still like to knit.” But, thankfully, that wasn’t my first thought- and the idea I came up with changed the entire trajectory of my life from that point forward. It sparked my intense love for the outdoors that now I couldn’t possibly imagine life without, and it eventually brought me to the conclusion that it’s OK to love something that’s a little different from everyone else, and to pursue it as whole-heartedly as possible. Without that apartment-couch-epiphany, I wouldn’t be living in my van right now, I wouldn’t be planning to hike the Appalachian trail, I wouldn’t be sitting in the desert outside Sedona, writing for a van life magazine, meeting some of the coolest people I’ve ever come across and having some of the most exciting, unique experiences of my life. From that  bright orange discount tent in the middle of Apache Junction, Arizona, suddenly the adventures I had read about in books didn’t seem quite so far-fetched. 

Now don’t get me wrong- I am certainly not claiming to be fearless. In fact, I am still afraid a good portion of the time. I was terrified to move into the van, afraid to leave my job- hell, I was even nervous on a really steep hike I went on earlier this week. But the difference is that instead of deciding what I want to do with my life based on what is comfortable and nice, I am deciding my path based on what I am passionate about, and what would bring me joy, and looking at fear as a necessary obstacle to overcome, rather than a sign that something shouldn’t be done. Instead of saying “oh no, that makes me nervous, I don’t want to do that,” I’m trying to get into the habit of saying “yikes, that makes me nervous.. I’m gonna go for it anyway.” Do I always manage to overcome that fear? HELL no. We’re all human- no one is perfect, especially when it comes to controlling our own emotions. But at least I always try. And that is the best way I know how to live- to try to be the person I want to be, to live the life I know will make me happy, in spite of my fears. Because if the two years since that one night on my couch have taught me anything, it’s that some of the most beautiful, most rewarding, most incredible moments of your life can come when you push past your fear to get to what you really want. We’re all afraid…the question is, what are we gonna do about it? 

An excerpt from what is literally my favorite quote of all time: “Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small people who find it easier to live the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact, it’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration, it’s a dare.” -Muhammad Ali 

And don’t worry- I do have some actual, legitimately crazy stories about my time in Utah that I’ll be sharing with you guys very soon! I can only imagine the relief you’re all feeling. But until then, Sheila and I just crossed the border into Arizona, so we’re off to keep screwing up in what is probably my favorite place I’ve ever visited- so stay tuned because there are plenty more screw-ups where this came from! (Not sure what exactly that says about me, but at least it’s entertaining).