On healing {Part One}
photo by Jonathan Kelley
Recently I posted on my Instagram page about how far I’ve come since my dark days last year. It became quickly evident that a lot of you have gone or are currently going through similar struggles. I wanted to use this long form blog post to expand upon a few of the points that we discussed, both publicly and privately. Also, I wanted to set the stage for a series of posts on this subject by a few different authors. There is no turn-key solution to suffering, but hopefully by sharing our stories, anyone can find something they can relate to.
In my post, I mentioned how difficult it was for me to “get myself off the couch” when I was really in my worst times. I meant that I was literally unable to stand up and do easy tasks like tidy up the living room or wash dishes. A few of you talked about your own metaphorical “couch”: something that sucks out your marrow and leaves you paralyzed.
For some, it was grief, feeling unable to get away from the pain of loss. For others, it was family conflict and stress from work. I think a lot of you know the feeling of being trapped and exhausted by a problem or situation, unable to muster the energy to do things that normally make you feel better, like getting outdoors.
Even if you haven’t been depressed, you have surely felt the restorative powers of a walk in the woods, or a soak in the creek. But an important thing to understand for we who need healing are the limits of those powers, otherwise we may just be slapping band-aids on bullet holes. For a while, I used “river therapy” to soothe my soul, but I eventually realized that no amount of dopamine-laced hook-setting was going to fill my creel. My problems always followed me back to the trailhead and all the way back home. Over the course of about 7 months, I did three things that helped me get the monkey off my back. I went deeper into nature, opened up to my loved ones, and talked to a professional.
I read books and poetry and learned about ritualizing my interactions with nature. I tried to foster a sense of gratitude for the things that made me feel whole. Like I said in my post On Placeness, I leaned on my senses and chased that feeling of being known. I highly recommend Wendell Berry’s poems, and “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall-Kimmerer, if this kind of thing interests you. Hopefully you have enough energy to give it a shot, but if you don’t, there are other options.
I think my relationship with nature is what kept me from hitting rock bottom when nobody knew how I was feeling. I felt so alone last year. I didn’t think I was worth anybody’s time. When my loved ones realized that I was not taking care of myself anymore, they brought me in close, and I opened up to them. If you don’t have anyone to open up to, I’m here listening. I’m hoping that my Instagram post showed you that you aren’t alone, and that you can leverage strength from this community of outdoorsmen.
If you don’t have the energy for going deeper into nature, or you feel that opening up is too complicated, that’s okay. I think talking to a professional should be your priority. Seeking help is not giving up. It’s the opposite. It’s taking a big brave step towards being your best self. Shouldering your problems on your own sounds like the honorable thing to do, but I heard a hilarious spoof of that macho attitude the other day on Instagram: “Don’t let anybody ruin your day. Be a man and ruin it yourself.” I don’t want it to sound like I’m preaching on “toxic masculinity”. I’m not here on behalf of woke-ism. I’m here because I feel better, and I want you to, too.
Photo by Jonathan Kelley
