Revisiting Vulnerability on a New Stage

My first day of school picture...the excitement
was equally matched by fear and anxiety

  So, I realized that it has been far too long since I have posted anything, and I helped get myself inspired by reading over the things I have put out there.  This tends to be my pattern when I am getting ready to write in my journal, and given the nature of what I have published on here over the past couple of years, it's not surprising that I would do the same with my blog.  I am amazed at how raw and honest I have been with those of you that follow along and read this.  Some of you I know and spoke with on a regular basis through everything, while others I have not seen in years...maybe there are even a few who I have never met.  And yet, I wrote about things that are sometimes stigmatized, and often times are kept hidden.  It is strange to look back on after such a long absence, maybe because I have stepped away from this practice of public vulnerability. Not to say that I have stopped being vulnerable.  I am still working on it every day, and I have spent the last year learning to vulnerable in a relationship again.  I think the step back from public vulnerability has more to do with jumping in to an incredibly overwhelming first year of my professional career.  Being a school counselor, and being brand new, makes me question what I put out there.  I am grateful to work in a district that I do not live it, but even that distance does not get rid of this sense that I am always under investigation.  And I am very aware that this blog is open to any and all who happen to stumble across it.  So, I question how vulnerable I can be while still being trusted as a professional.  Which I find to be incredibly ironic, seeing as I strive to help kids open up and I preach the strengths of vulnerability.


   Sometime around December, the superintendent of my district tasked the counselors with spearheading a Mental Health Awareness initiative in all of the schools for the month of February.  The focus was on erasing stigma around mental health and educating students and staff on signs to look out for within themselves and those around them.  Our main message was that stigma can only be addressed by allowing ourselves to talk about mental health.  Yet, part way through the month I found myself overwhelmed by stress from my job, and feeling my own mental health faltering.  And during a month spent on telling others to talk about it, I felt ashamed that I couldn't pull it together perform at unreasonable standards I had set for myself.  When there is so much stigma surrounding mental health, mental illness, or really anything suggesting that we are less than perfect...I can't blame others for wanting to stay quiet.  I guess I hope that my willingness to lay it all on the table will help others feel a little more comfortable.So, this is my attempt to talk about it again.

One crazy adventure and more to come

   I will work on writing on here more often.  I forgot how healing it was in a past, and I am grateful to those who have followed along with words of encouragement.  I am not sure what this blog will look like, besides the crazy adventures I find myself in, I also hope to talk about my journey in learning who I am as a school counselor.  Don't worry, I will throw in some stories from the students I work with for comic relief.  Like the time when one of the 5th grade boys pulled a "that's what she said" joke and I had to give him my teacher glare while I silently laughed inside.  Or the other time when a high school student blamed me for ruining her senior year because I wouldn't change the classes that she had requested to be in last year...wait that happened twice. 

Master Syd's Adventures in Coparenting

Well, I did it.  I survived grad school and earned my M.Ed. in School Counseling.  You may now call me Master Syd.  Or not.  But doing say may help me feel that it is real.  I had planned to write this whole entry on what I learned, on how I made it through, and on how relieved I feel...it turns out that the end was just as stressful as every other part of the experience.  I learned that I can do things that seem impossible, and that I still procrastinate.  I came out on the other end with amazing friends that I will have for a lifetime because only a select few can understand the battles of enduring a graduate program in counseling.  I am grateful for the every tear, perhaps a little more grateful for the laughter, and am still having a hard time believing that it is really truly over.  Maybe it will kick in when I start my first job this fall at an elementary school and a high school.  I swear, I am a glutton for punishment. 

Which is why this summer I have taken up the challenge of urban homesteading and coparenting in Butte, Montana.  You may be wondering how and why it is that I find myself in these positions.  Didn't I get enough adventure in spending a summer on a fishing scow last year?  Sure I did!  And what I have learned of myself the past couple of years is that I love the challenge of trying something new and going beyond the familiar.  So, last November, when my cousin, Regan, called me up to tell me she was missing family, pregnant with her second child, and this kiddo was due in the summer...I figured why not fill my summer with some family time in Montana.  Things became a little more real when she called me up a few months later to tell me that her husband was heading to Ohio in May to help them transition to a new home in the fall.  I would now be jumping into the role of fill-in parent.  Regan gave me an out.  I took the same stance as I did last summer with Alaska.  Game on!

So, now my days consist of waking up to the face of a smiling toddler who greets me with, "Oh, hey, Cousin Sydney!"  Before I can drink my coffee, I am off adventuring in the backyard, searching for things to fix, or playing baseball with a stick and a pine cone.  The time that I usually spend doing everything I can to find something to do away from my home is now filled with searching for any and every possible activity to do within and around the homestead that my cousin and her husband have created.  In an effort to keep a very pregnant Regan from going into labor before Zack gets here on Thursday, I have dubbed the role of Master Syd, Keeper of the Chickens.  My laundry duties are filled with dirty cloth diapers and soiled sheets, and my biggest battles have become getting clothes on wiggly two-year old, overcoming the fears of the splash park, brushing the teeth of a toddler monster, and the dreaded bedtime.  After Regan and I take turns reminding Keoki that it is indeed time to sleep and we are still here, I find myself taking part in the conversations parents have over, "how can we make that better next time?"

Perhaps the most important conversation at this point is, "what do you need from me when you start going into labor?"  And the answer depends on whether or not Zack is here.  If Baby Jackie decides to come join us before Thursday, there is a strong chance I will be given the opportunity to witness a birth.  On top of the role of coparent, I may also be given the role of birth partner, which both excites and terrifies me.  It is an honor to know that Regan trusts me enough for this role.  She handed me a book (The Birth Partner) to look over for some light summer reading.  And reading the book, while shedding light on the birthing process, outlined the responsibilities that go along with being a birth partner.  I will be utilizing my newly acquired counseling skills to navigate the birthing plan, and hoping that I do not have to go into battle with a nurse or doctor who tries to stray from my cousin's wishes.

I have jumped into this adventure with both feet and am rewarded with beautiful Montana scenery, moments of laughter, toddler cuddle time, and a stronger connection to family.

Accepting Loneliness

I have this friend who wrote me a letter a couple of months ago.  The first one was on Wonder Woman stationary.  The next, on beautiful resume paper.  Both were reminders of the friends I have made over the past 12 months and the ones who have stuck with me through the years.  Not just new people to go meet up for coffee every so often, but those who I can just sit with.  They are there and I feel blessed to have them.  And yet...every so often I am hit with a wave of loneliness.  This is probably a normal experience for those who find themselves living the single life.  Maybe it is normal for people who are living life at all.  The challenge is finding out what to do with this loneliness.

The extrovert in me wants to run into the nearest crowd of people.  To reach out to the friends I can sit with.  To find an adventure, or run, or do anything but be with my loneliness.  Because I have taught myself that this feeling is wrong.  That feeling alone means I am alone.  I have spent so much of my life trying to be around others because this world tells us to look out  for those who are solitary beings.  We see that person and think they are abandoned, unattended, or deserted.  And it is so easy to believe these words.  I find myself sitting in my loneliness and formulating a list of those who have abandoned me.  I let this list expand until I am spinning with the reasons they have left.  So...I take this feeling of loneliness and I run from it. 

But what would happen if I sat with it? 

I took a mindfulness class last winter and our homework was to do a body scan at least once a week.  I found excuse after excuse to avoid the assignment until my sense of responsibility kicked in and I laid down in the dark to follow the direction of the narrator.  And as I lay there, focusing on my breath, following it through different parts of my body, I began to understand what I was afraid of.  I was running from everything I had been holding in.  I feared facing my pain, loneliness, and grief.  Because mindfulness asks you to not only acknowledge what you are feeling, but accept it and let it go.  How was I going to accept that pain in my chest?  How was I going to accept it and then let it go?  By giving it space to exist.

I spend my time running from loneliness because I fear the "truths" that will pop up in that quiet time.  I have faced that crippling heart-wrenching pain often enough to know its ability to bring me to my knees.  Yet, I have learned that without the space to exist, this beast only grows stronger.  I am fighting to accept the fears I have in order to set them free.  I may miss the physical presence of others, I may wish I had a someone besides my cat to snuggle up to at night, I may yearn for that open and honest conversation...and that is all ok.  I am learning to take my loneliness and sit with it.  I am reading letters from friends and remembering that just because I feel alone, it does not mean that I am alone.

So, I leave you with this video that another friend shared with me this morning.  It opened me up enough to remembers my fears which were saying they needed some time to sit with me.

Adventures in Fear

I have come face to face with a lot of fear throughout my life, but only in the last few months have I recognized what that fear can do for me.  I faced my fears when I accepted the job in Alaska, sang in front of friends, or learned to lead climb.  I faced fears I didn't know existed when I dealt with heartbreak. I have solo camped in bear country, battled depression, jumped into glacial rivers, and fight hard everyday to be my true self.  Sometimes I come out on the other side with scares and bruises, exhausted from losing sleep or pushing my limits, and tears can be a common occurrence.

What have I learned?  I do not want to do or not do something because I'm afraid.  By letting fear take over I miss out on amazing experiences.  If I had listened to my fears, I would have missed out on amazing connections and a beautifully ass-kicking experience in Alaska.  I would be stuck behind self-proclaimed limits because the other side was risky and unknown...and staying put seemed more comfortable.  There is fear of making mistakes and losing what you have.  But mistakes are only mistakes if you don't learn from them, and there can be so much more to lose by staying still or hiding.  By risking a fall with lead climbing, I gained confidence in my skills.  By sleeping fitfully in bear country, I awoke to a beautiful landscape and a day of hiking.  Through breaking my body down in Alaska, I gained a community that feels like another home.  And through being myself I find friends that not only accept me, but challenge me to continue facing other fears in my life. 

My current fear?  Remaining true to myself through the stress of school and the new identity of a counseling intern.

But I'm ready, because this past year has taught me what to do with that fear.  Accept it...and face it.  As one of the speakers for Tedx WWU puts its: Face Everything And Recover.  Because fear is not there to knock you down, it is there as a challenge, an invitation to the other side.  Fear is the sign that growth, connection, and recovery are waiting for you.  You just need to accept the challenge to get there. 

Music Feeds a Scow Girl's Soul

We take our job very seriously

Well,  I have written about one way in which I learned to power through a nice long day of pushing, grading, and icing fish...but I failed to speak of another very important energy source.  As necessary as food and calories are to physically making it through a day, music became fuel to break mental barriers and stagnant points during the long days.  Throwing thousands of fish into an ice tote becomes a little more bearable when you have something to sing along to.  Hell, it even becomes fun when you realize how ridiculous you would look to anyone else as you belt out the lyrics to Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys, Blink-182, Beastie Boys, Florence and the Machine, or Michael Jackson.  The '90s became our favorite era as the music gave us a chance to laugh at ourselves, while gangster rap was just ironic when blasting from the speakers of a fish house in a small cove in Southeast Alaska.  In each instance I was reminded at how easy it is to smile in the craziest and most exhausting of circumstances.  While elbow deep in dead fish, with slime in my hair and scales on my face, on four hours of sleep, and looking at another 12 hours of work...I was happy to have music to sing to and three other girls who were singing with me. 

The location of our dance parties

And when singing wasn't enough (and sometimes it just doesn't cut it), I liked to utilize what my friend has aptly dubbed an Emergency Dance Party.  These are important for several reasons, but most notably for their ability to relieve any tension.  Especially within a group.  Especially in a fish house.  When we were exhausted, angry, stressed, hungry, and ready to just throw in the towel...it was time to bust a move.  Get the blood flowing and forget what was bothering you.  Which is pretty easy to do when you see someone flailing around in fish gear.  My pride and joy was the night I danced out of my gear with Michael Jackson's "Bad" at the end of a 16 hour work day.  All the stress of the day was made up for by  the fact that I could still dance, smile, and laugh with a group of girls who suffered and danced right alongside me.

 

How to Fuel an 18 Hour Day of Fish Throwing

Begin by waking up in a hurry to meet the boat pulling up downstairs. Shove whatever food you can find into your mouth before you start pitching fish. This is usually a granola bar, peanut butter and bread, or a bowl of cereal. The food is more important as a base to get the all important Vitamin I (ibuprofen) because your entire body hurts from the past month of working in a fish house. Coffee is the next most important step. No matter how many fish the boat downstairs has, someone must always stay behind to provide caffeine to wake us all up from our 5 hours of sleep. Meals throughout the rest of the day vary from elaborate dishes of fish put together by or loving manager, Celeste...or they are replaced by whatever snacks you can grab every 30 minutes. Sometimes a handful of peanuts, wheat thins, or ritz crackers. Sometimes anything with sugar. Lots of sugar. Candy bars, baked goods, chocolate. So much sugar. I'm a little worried about going through withdrawal when I leave. But, for now, its quick energy and great for late nights and no time. When more calories are needed we fuel up with microwave cheese burgers and burritos. I even learned that Costco makes lasagna that can be microwaved (something discovered when we ran out of propane for the stove).

There are times when I wish I could take better care of my body, but when working for 15 to 18 hours, there's no time to make a nice salad...much less a sandwich. I have learned to love peanut butter more than I thought possible and accepted my constant craving of sugar. I have come to accept anything that will allow me to push my body to crazy limits.

A Day in the Life of a Scow Girl

I would like to start by saying that there is no average day in the life if a scow girl (a fact I have finally learned after almost 3 weeks and countless questions). I have already written about the days of  waiting. These usually begin with waking up casually when my body tells me to. I enjoy those mornings, but struggle with the cabin fever and I tend not to be the most patient person. Especially when it involves waiting until 10:30pm, when we are allowed to scrub and close down shop. Lately I have taken to watching our resident bear comb the beach (the very close beach). Today, I named him Paddington.

And then there are those other days...

They tend to begin by waking up to my roomies/coworkers/buddies stomping around because there's a boat outside. This causes a panicked rush to put on some fish clothes and hop downstairs and greet fishermen who have been up far longer than I have. Someone is given the all important task of brewing coffee while the other two shove food in their faces and start pitching fish. I am given three choices for jobs: pusher, grader, and icer. As pusher I slide fish up the tray to the grader, who tells me what type of salmon they are looking for. Generally this is small Coho, meaning anything below seven pounds. I'm proud of my new ability to recognize the difference and am accurate within a half pound. I actually get kind of excited about this job because I get to rush around and take on other tasks as well. Graders are next in line, weighing the fish that come down the line and passing them onto the icer, who is given the all important job of throwing fish in totes, chopping ice, and icing the bellies of so many fish. Some of which are poisonous and pokey. This role tends to be competing with the pusher and grader in a hectic race to keep the tray clean. Now...do all of this for 18 hours.  And then remember that it will never be that smooth because nothing here is normal. Generators break down, you run out of propane (which heats your water, allows you to cook, and do laundry), there is an ice shortage, people get sick...or the line on your hoist comes dangerously close to breaking. At several points throughout the day you utilize what my friend has aptly named an Emergency Dance Party and bust a move to the playlist you have been listening to for the last 19 days because the satellite radio doesn't work. These dance parties are made all the more special when covered in fish scales, sweat, fish blood, your blood, and slime. Best dance club ever!

At the end of the day, when you don't care that you just splashed yourself in the face with bleach water, you patiently wait for fishermen and deck hands to finish using the shower so you can scrub clean and feel refreshed until it all starts again in 5 hours.

The Cursed Words of Scow Life

After working three days of twelve, sixteen, and eighteen hours, I have learned several things. One: my body is capable of so much more than I thought possible. Two: don't say the "s" word (skiff), "h" (hot tub), or the "n" word (nap). These words were responsible for two of the last long days, making me understand silent appreciation of down time. We avoid acknowledging what is on everyones minds for fear that it will trigger an approaching boat looking to sell more fish. Putting our tired hands and arms back to work. Which brings me back to point number one. Yes...my hands, wrists, and arms are swollen after throwing and icing king salmon for 18 hours with only 4 hours of sleep...but the fact that I was able to keep going at the end of a hellish few days is a testament to what our bodies are able to withstand. Don't get me wrong, I was exhausted, yet I going myself picking up giant fish after giant fish until we finished unloading the last boat at 2:30 am. A boat with over 1,000 salmon. That boat took 3 hours with four people. And there were moments when I wondered, "What the hell am i doing?" Examples include, hanging over a tote half full if ice and fish as I'm soaked in water, fish blood, slime, and sweat; pushing 150+ pound totes over other totes by myself in the dark and rain on a rocky scow a foot from the freezing water. Somehow, I love it! And I take a good amount of pride in knowing that I was a part of the crew that took in nearly 30,000 pounds of fish in one day. Let's see what else this body is capable of!

Barrier After Barrier

I am finishing day seven of scow life and beginning to understand the warnings I was given. My fore arms, wrists, and hands are swollen and starting to tingle. I got four hours of sleep last night after working 16+ hours throwing fish around. The two days before were 12 and 15 hour work days. Luckily today was a slow day and I found a few hours to nap...only to be told by my boss that yesterday was maybe half as bad as it's going to get. Oh, joy! The next two days should be an eye opener as the King Salmon window closes and everyone will be selling fish they've been catching for days. Fish that weigh anywhere from 8-30+ pounds. Which is great...except when you are lifting, weighing, pushing, and throwing them onto trays and into giant totes then packing them full of ice. All day for two days. I hit a mental road block at least once a day and ask myself over and over again why I'm here. Why am I doing this to myself? What am I trying to prove? And honestly I don't really know. But, I get past each barrier and find myself loving the moment. I'm not sure how long I will be fighting these daily battles. I do know that they make the down time of guitar playing, hot tubbing, and chatting with fishermen and women just a little more amazing. So, for now, I will enjoy a soak in the hot tub to prepare for the long haul. I just have to remind myself...it gets better...and I am getting stronger everyday.

An Adventure in Waiting

I'm sitting in my bed looking out the window at the wonderful scenery that is my back yard. It's another day of waiting and eating to pass the time until fishing boats come in. The king salmon season opens today, which means all the boats are out fishing. As each day passes, I find myself falling more and more in love with Alaska and living on a boat. There are humpback whales in my yard, sea lions that pop up to say hello, and a culture that I am eager to learn more about. A culture that I have been warned about in terms of the hellish work...work I have yet to fully experience. It has been a slow start and I fill the days with learning knots, playing guitar, reading, and trying to figure out how to identify five different types of salmon. Oh, and eating. My body has been preparing for the amount of work I'm getting into, always telling me eat, eat, eat. So now, I have calories to burn and cabin fever driving my anticipation to start. That and I just want to get hell started so I can begin to fall in love with this place all over again. For now, I'll sit comfortably in my dream vacation and watch the rain fall.

I'm a Scow Girl!

Well, friends...I am here. I am living on a scow for the next sixish weeks and sharing a small space with two other amazing hard-working ladies. I keep asking myself, "how did I get here?" and am continually thankful for the chance to be in this wilderness. We towed out yesterday and anchored in to a tiny little cove on Chichagof Island. For anyone interested, it's about half way between Mite Cove and Soapstone Cove on the Lisianski Strait. I am a stone's throw from a pretty little beach and I see mountains from the window by my bed. I'm starting to get used to the fact that I see jelly fish, sea otters, sea lions, and a multitude of bald eagles on a regular basis. Even big old brown bears are a fairly common occurance...which had me singing whatever song I knew as we went onshore to set up the waterline. Basically, I'm in a little bit if heaven. Hopefully I can keep that attitude when the work gets going. Hell...I will be hoping to find time to eat at that point. My appetite has been ferocious from being on my feet all day. Luckily, I'm not the only one aboard who needs to snack every 30 minutes.
Well, I should get back to cleaning and prepping for the opening of King Salmon season. I'm not sure how much I don't know yet...but I've learned a few things to help me along the way. The next few days will be a nice crash course. Wish me luck!

Misadventures With Mom

I am coming to the end of the first leg of this crazy journey, and I have yet to mention a key player in the shenanigans of the past three days.  When I first found myself preparing to head up north I was dead set on driving my truck the 1,800+ miles to Juneau and hoping to find a friend to join me.  As the time for departure grew nearer I was becoming comfortable with the fact that the drive would be solo...but my mom was a little less so.  Her worry pushed her to buy a plane ticket out West to ensure safe passage along the great Alaskan highway.  Luckily, through talking with others, her worry soon mixed with an excitement close to my own.  Unfortunately, I was giving the heartbreaking news that my little truck required far too much work to make a drive up worth it.  I actually found myself slightly relieved, as I began crunching some numbers and realized just how much that fourish day drive was goings to cost us.  But..fear not.  For, as I was scrambling to finish up my third quarter of grad school, my mom was busy figuring out how to get us to the Last Frontier.  Turns out the ferry is a damn good way to go.

And my mom, Denise, is a damn good travel buddy.  Having put up with me for the past 26+years, she knows when to leave me alone and when to bug me just enough to get me to laugh.  The past three days have reminded me just how alike we are...especially when we spent the entire second day doing nothing but sitting, reading, and sneaking drinks on deck in travel mugs.  I was forced to be on the other side of my dorky humor as we each threw down one lame joke after another, which made me love both my mom, and myself, a little bit more.  And through the rough patches that always pop up when you find yourself around the same person long enough, I realized that I may not express this love and gratitude as often as I should.  My misadventures have always been about those events that happen which you never expected, but forever appreciate...and the beginning of my Alaska adventure is proving to be on of those times.  But, here's the difference, this time I have discovered where some of that openness to life came from.

My mom turned 60 this year, an age when most people are sitting back, knitting, and watching tv.  Ok, she does that...but she proved her adventurous side to me as well.  Today we were walking around downtown Juneau trying to escape the throngs of cruise boat tourists that took over the streets.  Rather than give up and head back to the hotel, we decided to follow a sign for an old mining museum that was a mile and a half out of town.  On the way we discovered a trail head for the Mt. Roberts tram (which costs $31 per person if you go round trip from town).  We wanted to see the sights and save a buck so vowed to come back after the museum...because we are that cool.  After looking at the map and figuring a mile hike up, we were game.  That is, until we came to a fork in the trail half a mile up that said 2 miles to the tram.  Not going to lie, I was up for the adventure, but a little worried about my mom.  Her thoughts?  Eff it...game on Juneau!  And an hour and a half later, we found ourselves sweating, swearing, and smiling as we came to the cruise line tourist infested tram building.  But guess what?  We saved ourselves $21 (it was $10 down if you hiked)!

So, here I am.  It's 9:30 pm, still bright out, and preparing myself for a 4am wake up.  Have no fear, the woman running the front desk assured us that it gets light at 2:30.  Although I am antsy and ready to start work, I find myself sad to be parting ways with my new adventure buddy. That's ok...she promised we could get matching tattoos when she turns 80.

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Syd the Kid Heads to the Last Frontier

For the second time in two weeks I find myself shocked at how quickly time has passed.  I am currently sitting on a ferry, going along the Alaska Marine Highway, starting my journey to Pelican. What is in Pelican?  Well, besides another adventure...the most physically demanding job I ever expect to have.  Let's start from the beginning. 

Back in January, I had decided that I was getting out of Washington for the summer and was determined to work in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in northern Minnesota.  This is a place I spent a few weeks in every summer growing up, yet never got to chance to fully explore.  Now was my chance.  So, I sent some e-mails, filled out a couple of applications, and considered myself blessed when I received a call for an interview.  After nearly two months of phone tag, I accepted the fact that I was staying in Bellingham...luckily filled with new friends and plans for adventures.  I was still faced with the daunting task of finding work in order to make this fiscally manageable.  The first two opportunities fell into my lap rather nicely, but were not gonna hack it when it came to paying bills.  I knew I needed a third, but, in typically Syd fashion, I waited...and waited...and waited...

Until, one day I was approached by a woman who was a year ahead of me in my program. What were my plans for the summer? Where was I going to be? Oh, you need a job? I know of one, but its not in Bellingham.  And I proceeded to do a little happy dance with a not so little happy face.  Why?  Because this woman, Deb, owns a scow in Alaska. My hoped for escape and guaranteed adventure found me.

Now, to find out what exactly I was getting myself into.  So, I asked, and was told this.  My body was going to hurt more than it ever had, I would question my sanity and quite possibly regret my choice in going up there, I would be mentally and physically exhausted, and (my personal favorite) there would be mornings when I wake up, look down, and think to myself, "whose arms are in my bed."  I did question my sanity...but only because I realized that hearing this created a growing sense of excitement and a voice that yelled, "challenge accepted!"

And here I am.  Making my way north to work, sleep, and eat on a boat with three other woman who will teach me how to throw fish for six weeks.  I am not fully sure what to expect other than exhaustion and beautiful scenery...but I am excited by this mystery because I know that I can succeed, excel, and grow from it.  I am equipped with my brand new bib overalls, x-tra tuff boots, stronger arms (from the massive amounts of push-ups I have done to battle the numb arms), and a sense of pride in my continued ability to test my comfort zone to find another side of life.

So, here I go into the wilderness.  I will update with small posts when possible, but don't hesitate to write and ask what I've learned...because I know it will be a lot.  I hope to find a little more of myself out there.  Game on, Alaska!

Ready to go!

Misadventures to Begin Summer

Well world, I have officially completed my first year of graduate school.  I’m not sure how I did it…I am even having a hard time believing that it has already been 9 months since I started this adventure.  But I somehow find myself on the other side after a whirlwind writing frenzy (18 pages in 72 hours).  Hell, looking back, I’m happy that my only real challenge this quarter was battling the consequences of my procrastination.  There was a point in January where I almost walked away from school to pull myself together.  Then I looked around at my cohort and realized I had to stay, because stepping back for a breather would mean leaving the support I needed the most.  It meant that a year and a half down the line, I would be graduating with a whole new cohort.  So…I stayed.  And that group helped me reach a point where my greatest challenge became writing papers.  Which made me lose my mind in a much more welcome manner.

Yup...I was here. No...I didn't take this picture

Before I had time to gather my wits I was busy packing for a camping and climbing adventure at Smith Rock State Park in Oregon with Emily and her brother, Ryan.  Had I ever been sport climbing? Nope. Was I ready to test myself and live a little? Always. Game on!  Step one: begin the five hour drive south to Portland.  Step two: take a break for a quick reminder on how to drive stick shift.  Step three: pass out with the wonderful realization that I have no expectations to wake up to in the morning! Step four: eat a delicious brunch before jumping on the road for another 3 hours to reach our destination. Step five: postpone setting up camp because we are running out of daylight and itching to climb. Cue Syd's first experience in sport climbing...and the beginning of a new love. After successfully climbing a couple routes I found myself hanging out just a little bit past my comfort zone, ready for a good meal of camp curry, a good night's sleep, and two more days full of pushing boundaries. 

My first lead!

First up, start the day with a 5.9 climb.  After struggling through the first 15 feet, I began trusting my equipment, my belayer, and myself.  Reaching the top provided an appreciation for all the hard work I have put my body through over the past couple of months and a healthy dose of pride in what I can accomplish.  The next couple of climbs continued to push me further and further...all the while keeping a big fat grin on my face.  The battle wounds just made me feel a little more bad ass.  Which was nothing compared to being given the opportunity to lead my first route. After watching Emily and Ryan create route after route for me to explore, I was anxious to try it myself.  And I will say this.  I have deep respect for anyone who does a free solo climb.  Even though I was on a 5.5 (one which would be no problem any other time) I found myself second guessing every hold and step.  If I slipped 7' up from my last clip, I've got about 15' to go before I hit rock.  No thanks...I'll just hold on a little bit tighter.  After getting the route set up and getting my feet safely back to ground, I was overwhelmed with a huge sense of accomplishment, which was shared by a smile and congratulations from Emily.  I did it!

After a long day in the sun, we made our way to Bend, Oregon for some delicious grilled salmon and wonderful company before making the long drive back to Portland.  Full bellies and a day of pushing limits in the high desert make for a tiring drive at 10pm.  Our solution?  Dance party!  Until my co-pilot succumbed to her exhaustion and I was left in charge of the music and getting us to a cozy bed.  Only to wake up and spend another 6 hours in the car to complete our journey.  And I will say this...anyone who survives that much time in a car with me deserves an award.  So, Emily, I send you an internet high-five for such a feat.  Thank you for a wonderful adventure,

Throw Love At It

"I don't know what else to do, I don't know how else to get through this, so I'm just going to throw love at it. I'm just going to throw love at it with both hands."

   I always viewed heartbreak as something that someone had to endure and get over by leaving it behind.  I thought of it as some crippling experience which left people jaded.  The past year and few months has taught me something quite different.  So, here's another practice in vulnerability.

 
  Over the past year plus, I have discovered that heartbreak comes in many different forms.  After a family friend took her own life, I felt it in anger and sadness from the loss of such a wonderful person.  A few weeks later, my heart broke a little more when cancer took a high school friend.  I revisited a different kind of heartbreak after losing touch with my dad for six months.  And then I was introduced to a breakup that I feared would leave me jaded. I struggled with being vulnerable and fought the urge to shut down and close myself off from the world.  There were a couple of days were I even tried to hide from others.  This proves difficult when you are in school to become a counselor.  How could I shut down when I was about to help others open up?  Not to mention, I was surrounded by other counseling students.  They don't let you hide.  So, I had no choice but to let those emotions stay on the surface.  And through the pain I learned something that I wasn't able to articulate until my mom sent me an e-mail the other day.  It was sent to her by the brother of our family friend that we lost last year, and in it he addresses a book, "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart."  Yea, I would have laughed at this a few months ago...or run screaming in the opposite direction...but now, I find myself nodding my head in agreement.  Here's why.
 

  By losing so many important people, I also lost major outlets for the love I was giving.  I felt rejected and overwhelmed with an emotion that I was used to giving to others.  I wanted to get rid of it, but realized that by doing so I would become that jaded person I feared.  So, I began to give some of that love to myself.  I filled my broken heart with the love I had given to others.  And once those cracks began to stabilize, I turned this love towards others in my life.  I fought the fear of rejection and gave to others what I wanted back in the world.  The e-mail included another quote from the book that may help explain things, "In Buddhism, there is an emphasis on the broken heart as an attribute of a spiritual warrior, not as a problem or token of personal shame, but as a state of power, spiritual progress, openness and tenderness."  By keeping my heart open to give and receive I am allowing this progress to occur.  I practice random acts of kindness with my friends and family, I have picked up activities that allow me to take care of myself, and I am choosing to embrace my fears.  I am taking those fears and throwing love at them.  Rather than walk away from those I care about because I don't want to get hurt, I am giving them love and compassion.  And if I do get hurt, the past year has shown me that I will come through on the other side...I will even be a little bit stronger.

So let me leave you with this final quote from the e-mail. 
"When your heart is broken, the only thing that matters is love."

Friends!

   I have been meaning to write this blog for awhile now, but was never sure where to start or what to say.  There was this vague appreciation in there, but nothing concrete that would make sense to anyone.  The past couple of weeks have opened my eyes to the idea I wanted to get across.  I know I posted about some amazing adventures I was lucky enough to experience, and I still need to share my Colorado experiences...but I realized the trip wasn't just about going out and having a good time.  My ski adventure wasn't just about relearning and pushing past my comfort zone.  There was a lesson that I did not expect to pick up.  Maybe more of a realization...an eye opener.  I have amazing people in my life.

   Ok, I always had a sense that this was true.  I have met some inspiring individuals, and people who left me in a sense of awe, but I always felt lucky to be in their presence.  I always looked at these people in some guarded sense as if I was preparing for them to leave at some point.  Here's what the past few weeks taught me.  These people do not always leave.  These amazing individuals are all around me, and although some may leave...others will take their place.  This seems simple enough, but was amazing for me to be reminded of.  I have lost some important people in my life over the past year and sometimes found myself being stuck and focusing on what was gone.  Opening myself up to the experiences around me has helped me welcome some new friends and all around wonderful people.

To the people who inspired this post

   Knowing this is one thing...accepting that I deserve these people is another.  And here's how I was opened to it. Alicia, the friend I was visiting in Colorado was talking to her buddy, Alexa, about the way we are treated by those in our lives versus the way we deserve to be treated.  I was sitting in the back of the car while this discussion was happening and not really paying too much attention...until my name came up. At this point in the trip I am basking in the great feeling of new friends, knowing that I will keep in touch when I head back to Washington and hoping to see them when they come out this summer.  With this new friendship, Alicia went on to explain to Alexa that I am the type of person that would do anything for my friends.  It feels weird to type that...almost as if I am bragging about my loyalty or trying to tell everyone how great I am.  On the contrary, I felt strangely uncomfortable hearing a friend describe me in such a way.  I don't know how to explain it, but I felt exposed.  And yet, what she said was true.  I would do anything for my friends, whether I've known them for years, or just a few days.  I have just never heard a friend recognize and acknowledge this...much less describe me that way to someone else.  And this is where I had my realization that...yes...I do deserve these amazing people I have in my life.  I have friends and family who would do anything for me, because I would do the same.

Syd the Kid Remembers How to Ski

   So, here it is. The long awaited ski post.  I know you were so anxious to hear about it and waiting on the edge of your seat. Cue the picture of Syd bundled up on the lift. 

I fit right in

   Anyone familiar with Park City knows that Deer Valley is a pretty ritzy resort.  So, I fit in pretty well with my duct-taped snow pants (I burned a hole in them on the exhaust pipe of my old scooter), and my plastic neon sunglasses. Don't be jealous!  No wait...do. Because I still got to ski for free.    
   Let me start out by saying that,with the exception of a failed attempt at backcountry skiing two years ago, I have not skied in nine years.  And that was in Minnesota.  There are no mountains in Minnesota, just some big hills.  So, not only was I relearning the art of skiing, I was doing this on mountains.  Needless to say I was a little nervous when I jumped on that first lift at Deer Valley.  But hell, this was my adventure vacation (an adventure-cation if you will) and I was not going to let my nerves stop me!  Luckily, Cassidy is a ski instructor and a very patient friend.  And we started on the bunny hill.  I will say I was proud of myself for not falling when it came time to unload from the lift.  And hot damn, I had the biggest grin on my face when muscle memory kicked in and I realized that I remembered how to ski!  French fries, pizza slice...and that whole turning and stopping thing.  Apparently I passed the test, and we were on to bigger and better things!
    I was given a total of 20 times that I was allowed to fall throughout the day, and I was pretty certain I would reach that number.  Number one happened on the bunny hill...muscle memory hadn't kicked in yet.  I can't remember when 2-5 happened, but they did and I laughed.  Number five involved sliding down the slope head first, on my back, for about twenty feet.  This was followed by much laughter on my end, because honestly, it was pretty fun.  I wish I had a picture to share with you.  Fall number six was a nice wipe out.  I discovered that when you're relearning how to ski, it can be nerve-wracking to have so many other people on the slope with you.  Not because I felt compelled to compare, but as a soccer player I have been trained to be aware of where others are and adjust my movements to what I see.  So in trying to stay out of the way of other skiers, I found myself flying through the air and landing hard on my ass.  This one took some recovery time, but a lesson was learned.  Cassidy let me know that its up to those behind me to stay out of my way. Phew...pressure gone!
   After gaining some confidence, we reached the top of a slope that was introduced to me by Cassidy saying, "I'm going to test your limits a bit."  Joy!  And holy crap!  What was the picture I posted a few back?  Oh yea, "Life begins outside of your comfort zone."  Well...let's live a little.  I got a few pointers and was sent on my way.  One small spill at the top and I found myself, comfortably, going a little bit faster as I got further down.  I felt like a giddy child yelling to their parents, "Look what I can do!" And then, I was exhausted! Cue horrible horror movies, delicious home brew, and dog cuddles.  All well  deserved after a day of discovering what I am capable of accomplishing.

Best Ski Teacher ever!

  


  

MisAdventures in Mormon Land

   Spring Break!! I have been looking forward to this trip for far too long, and here I find myself half way through it already.  Time to back track through the adventures I have found.

Day One:  Wake up at 515 to get ready for a 13 hour car ride with my buddy.  This friend decided that we didn't spend enough time together in grad school and a more epic adventure was needed.  The highlight? Listening to the most random college mix ever invented. Ludarcis, followed by old school Madonna, Baby Got Back, with a little bit of country.  It was so good we listened twice.  At some point on a trip I ran across four lanes of highway and back to try to rescue a dog that wandered into the grassy median.  It was more scared of me than of the cars and made it safely to farm land.  At least I got some exercise.  If someone had come up to me at the beginning of school last September and said, "you are going to be stuck in a car all day with one of these people over spring break," I wouldn't have believed them.  But...I would have been excited. Road trips are a good test of a friendship, and I think we passed.

Day Two:  I was on my own during the day, in a city that I have only been to once, nine years ago.  Luckily I am quite resourceful and not afraid to go out on my own.  I had to remember that my body was not used to elevation...and this was brought home as I sucked air while walking down the sidewalk.  Or when my heart was pounding when I finally stopped walking.  No, Syd, you're not old, just acclimating.  After successfully figuring out the Salt Lake public transit system, I made my way downtown to...Temple Square!  I'm not going to lie, I was expecting to burst into flames by walking on the property to eat my lunch under the watchful eyes of the Angel Moroni. As confused as I am about the Mormon religion in general, I have to admit that they know how to build a beautiful temple.  They are also very easy to talk to...as long as religion doesn't come into the picture.  They offered to have two missionaries show me around the grounds and give me a history lesson.  As interested as I was in meeting new people, I had to politely decline.   Maybe I would be shown some golden tablets, telling me the new direction of the church! A girl can dream.
    Next mission of the day?  An SLC scavenger hunt.  This would not have been possible without the wonderful invention of GPS.  Ok, that's a lie. I could have asked strangers for directions and actually had face to face conversation...but I enjoyed my solo mission.  First stop, Oasis Cafe for the best damn zucchini bread I've ever had in my life!  Seriously.  I would have savored each bite just a little bit longer if I wasn't in a hurry to get to my next stop before my transfer slip expired.  Lucky for me, the public library was just a few blocks away.  And holy crap.  Its awesome!  My mission was to get to the roof top, and I have never been so excited to go to the roof of a library before.  I could tell the views would be amazing.  I could sense it. So I hurried to that elevator and pressed the button with all my might, hoping to get there just a little bit faster...only to be denied access because the entrance was closed.  Instead, I stared longingly out the window like a sad little kid outside a closed candy store.  Oh well, two down!
  
Day Three: Another glorious day of sleeping in.  I woke up feeling lazy and unaccomplished.  Why was I not utilizing every minute of this day to look for adventure?  Well here's the thing...I just finished my second quarter of grad school...and dammit I have earned a lazy day!  So, I settled into my couch bed, watched a history of Coca-Cola, and called the nearest Jimmy John's
    For those of you who have never been to SLC, the street names (or numbers, rather) make you feel like you're reading map coordinates all the time.  And these coordinates are centered around...you guessed it...the temple.  Which is confusing at first, but pretty helpful when you get the hang of it.  So even though 100 S is technically running East to West, its South of the temple.  Crazy Mormons.  Why is this important? Because when I called to order Jimmy John's and they asked me, "Do you know what the East is on that?" I could proudly say, "Hells yes I do!"  Ok, not really.  I just gave him my SLC coordinates and sent him on his way.  It was a proud moment.

    My buddy came home early, giving us time to drink some Utah beer in the sunshine and plan our ski adventure for the following day.  I forget how deprived I am of vitamin D from living in Washington.  Not to say we don't get sun...but it just feels different at 4,200 feet. Beer also has a slightly different effect on the body at this height.  Which I noticed after a 4% beverage on my first night in Mormon Land.  Luckily, I was pretty well acclimated at this point and able to hold my own.  After the sunshine decided to hide behind the trees, we went to check another destination off my scavenger hunt.  To the Lone Star Taquria!  And the best fish burrito I've ever had in my life!  I know, I'm just as surprised as you are to learn that Utah has good fish.  I have decided that a scavenger hunt must exist for every city I go to from now on.  Because, not only does it create more adventures...it also brings me delicious food. Three down!
  
Day Four: Ski Day.  This day was so epic that it warrants its own blog entry.  Stay tuned!

Day Five: For those of you who are not familiar with CouchSurfing...get with the program.  I have utilized the community every time I travel somewhere and always come away with new friends or good stories...or good both...usually both.  This one at least gave me a good story.  My ski adventure ended with a trip to Layton and one of the worst night's sleep I've ever had.  Me and recliners were not meant to be together for more than a few hours.  For those of you who have hosted travelers, I really hope you have more to offer than one blanket and a chair.  This guy tried and had the best intentions, but after a day of skiing, my body needed more comfort.  At 5am my body told me enough was enough.  I blew up my camping pad and woke up a few hours later drooling on my jacket (because I also was lacking a pillow).  I shouldn't complain too much.  Until two days before, I didn't know where I was going to sleep.  My host was a kind fellow and very well traveled.  After lunch, he was able to give me ride back in SLC.  His driving was an adventure in and of itself.  As he complained about Utah drivers, I was just hoping I would make it to my next destination. 
   I was greeted by my next host with a room full of boisterous people and a birthday brunch.  This is where I was meant to be.  And a real bed to boot!  Some people may be uncomfortable in a room full of strangers, and I don't blame them.  Will they talk to me?  What do they think of me?  Am I cool enough to be here?  What do I say?  Screw it!  Sure, some of these thoughts were floating around, but who cares?  I just enjoy sitting around with new people.  These experiences are adventures in creating friendships.  So, I jumped right in and did what I do best...I was myself.
   And guess what.  I created some new bonds and allowed me to laugh and eventually be pulled out on the town.  I am happy to report that yes...gay bars do exist in Mormon Land!  There was dancing, there may have been a few drinks, and good times were had.  I was even able to knock another mission off my scavenger hunt.  Four down!

Day Six:  I woke up from the best night's sleep I've had throughout this entire trip. It bums me out when the beds I sleep in on trips like these are more comfortable than the bed I have at home.  This fact made me not want to leave.  That, and the apartment I was staying in was amazing.  And the people are wonderful.  So wonderful in fact that they invite me out to brunch after having known me for less than 24 hours. I will take this opportunity to refer back to that study on luck and being open to the experience.  I am open to meeting others...and spending time with them more than once. 
   Ok, back to the brunch.  Delicious and just what I needed after a night at an SLC gay bar.  The day was sunny, the coffee was good, the conversation was splendid.  And I kept finding myself staring off into the mountains.  Salt Lake is a city I could find myself living in because the great outdoors is...right there.  I thought Bellingham had it good.  We got nothing!  I will say that I am a little sad I did not find myself exploring Utah's back yard a little more.  This just means I need to come back.  Sorry Mormons!
   My last day in SLC was spent reading a good book in the sunshine and being perfectly content.  After a home made dinner with my new friends, I was ready to try and sleep for a few hours before taking a cab to the Amtrak station.  Two hours is enough, right?  No choice...my train awaits!

Adventures in Online Dating

Just try and resist this face!

   I've had a couple people ask me to blog about this particular topic...maybe because its a strange phenomenon and I talk about the whole thing in a ridiculous manner.  The world of online dating simply confounds me.  Here I am ladies of North West Washington!  Please judge me based on my essay responses to these formulated questions.  And check out these super great pictures of me going on adventures!  Do I post that sarcastic duck-face self-portrait I took a week ago?  Or will people think I am being serious?  Or maybe they'll know I'm joking and take offense to it.  Don't worry, I didn't actually over analyze it...that much.
    Let's go back a step.  First, one must choose a username. Oh, the possibilities!  Unfortunately, I couldn't browse other users until I named myself, which meant I was not given any examples to work from.  So, in my inexperienced online dating decision making, I went with something generic and missed my chance for creativity.  I would have liked the sound of Singly_Confused...it has a nice ring to it.  Before you ask, no, I will not tell you my actual username.  I won't even tell you what site I'm using! Because I prefer to be judged by strangers online who may or may not be attracted to me.
   Next, selling myself through these wonderful essay questions.  What are the six things I can't live without?  What am I doing on a typical Friday night?  Here's my favorite.  What am I doing with my life?  Somehow, this turned into a counseling session.  How much honesty should I pour into these things?  "Hey there!  I'm reinventing myself while trying not to go crazy during graduate school," or "I have no idea what I'm doing on here, but I thought I'd try it out.  Please be nice."  At least I can be pretty objective in my Friday night answer.
   Now, in order to be matched with anyone, I was put through the gauntlet of questions about politics, sex, drugs, religion, and everything in between.  After about 100 of those (more if you want your match statistics to be a little better), I can finally "accurately" search for people.  By accurate, I mean this.  I am given three different numbers when looking at a girl's profile.  First, the percentage this site believes that we will be a good match.  Second, the percentage of amazing friendship we will have.  Last...the best one...the chance that we will actually be enemies.  Thanks?
   What the hell do I do with these numbers?  How willing am I to meet that 92% match right now?  What does 74% really mean?  Did I answer those questions correctly?  Screw it, I just want to meet new people!
   And then comes the biggest test of online dating.  The pictures.  How much am I judging this girl based on her picture?  What does it say about me if I am judging her?  As humans, we can't help it.  And if this site didn't tell a person that I looked at their profile, I would try to look past that first picture.  But, I feel weird about the girl knowing I checked out her profile and moved right on along.  I see what visitors I had and wonder..."why wasn't I good enough for you?"  Not really.  But I am curious to know why people decide to make contact or just pass on through.
   Which brings me to this.  Getting a message from someone is so exciting!  Hooray!  And why?  Because, feeling wanted feels pretty damn good.  And sometimes I'm just a little too nervous to initiate that contact.  How do you start a message to someone on a dating website?  The act of saying hello already implies that you are interested.  Our intentions are laid out by being on here in the first place.  So, what's the point of small talk?  Then again...you sound like a creep if you come right on out and say, "Hey, you're hot and I could see myself kissing you sometime."  Throw that draft out the window!  A simple, hello, followed by some statement which proves you read their profile seems to do the trick.  And then, hell, what do I have to lose by pressing send?  That's the nice thing about the internet.  I don't see their look of disgust or confusion.  I just never hear back and move right on along.
   There are so many more thoughts I could put up here for you to read, but I haven't yet organized them and don't want to put you through that.  Just know this...my adventures in online dating are quite amusing, pretty great, and further practice in being open to what's out there.  Plus...it makes for good stories!

Adventures in Hooray!

   Do you consider yourself lucky?  I don't know if I would say I'm lucky, but I consider myself fortunate.  The other day in class, one of my professors mentioned this study on luck.  Researchers asked participants to come to a restaurant and just get a free meal.  All the participants had to do was sit and eat and be themselves.  After the meal, researchers asked them what they thought of the experience.  How was the food?  How was the atmosphere? What the team found was that those who did not consider themselves lucky would comment on those questions and just say thanks for the meal.  Here's where it gets interesting.  Participants who considered themselves lucky always had a story to tell.  One couple was thinking of building their own home and the waiter's father happened to be a contractor.  Another participant was looking for a place to live and the cook just happened to be renting out his mother-in-law suite (I haven't read the study so these examples are just made up.  The point is...weird connections were made).  Now, does this prove that luck exists?  The researchers said nay.  These instances weren't luck.  They are explained by a person's willingness to open up to the environment and experiences around them.  The participants who don't consider themselves lucky could have had the same stories had they been able to open up their eyes to what was around them.
    So, what's the connection to my Adventures in Hooray?  Well, I've been using that word a lot and wondered what it was about.  Hooray to new friends!  Hooray to fun adventures!  Hooray to smiles from strangers! Hooray to sunny days and crazy connections!  I was attributing this to some message the world was trying to send me.  "Syd, you've had enough crap, here are some awesome things!"  But, I didn't really believe that.  Because even through some hellish times, I have found amazing people and created some great stories.  And  I don't really believe in luck.  I do, however, believe in learning who I am and trying new things.  I have learned that by going with the flow, or pushing past my comfort zone...by being vulnerable...I allow these things to become visible.  Maybe that stranger was always smiling, and I finally noticed because I told myself to stand tall again.  These people have always been here.  Hell, I've even met some of them before.  But I'm finally allowing myself to connect again and become that person who leaves the restaurant with a story.