It’s been way too long since I’ve posted here. 2023 was not a great year for me, in regards to adventures outside. I had many wonderful moments and experiences in my personal life, but I was also really struggling with my mental health. I can’t remember when the downward spiral started but towards the end of the year, it finally clicked for me that I needed to do something because it was spiraling out of control for me.
There were many days where I could’ve spent galavanting about in the mountains but, instead, I spent laying in bed or in my recliner with zero desire to leave my place. Or, if I did leave my place during the weekends for a hike, it was always something short and sweet then I’d be right back in that recliner or bed. Although, a major highlight was spending a weekend up at Great Sand Dunes National Park and doing a beautiful but ass-kick of a hike up to Willow Lake outside the cute town of Crestone with my friends, Lauren and Patrick. If it weren’t for them inviting me out, I probably wouldn’t have done much of anything that weekend.
Then, 2024 came. I had one of the best New Year’s Eve experiences I’ve ever had with some amazing and incredible friends. Huge shoutout to Becca for getting that whole thing organized! I think I accidentally cursed myself by yelling inside my head, “Alright, this is the year for me! 2024 will be the year I prosper and things will only be uphill from here!”
Three days later, I was laid off from my job of seven and a half years. It was my career and, even through the hard times and massive challenges that food banking brings to the table, it was the perfect company for me and I enjoyed being there so, so, so much. Little did I know that the layoff would be the first of many things to go wrong in my life. After that, I got a nasty stomach bug that lasted three weeks, I got COVID for the second time, got hit by a car, had a seizure that basically put my life on hold for a long while, got a job then lost it very soon after, lost relationships with some people who were very important to me, then got some worrisome medical news about myself.
After struggling with my mental health since childhood, I finally broke. I snapped. I spiraled too far down. I was tired and exhausted in so many ways. My inner demons finally overcame my most basic instincts. I had decided it was time to end my life.
The outdoors has unequivocally been the best thing in my life and I almost turned it into unequivocally the worst thing of my life.
I woke up really, really early one morning and made the decision. I had had it. I was done. There’s a certain cliff I’ve had in the back of my mind for many years as it always sat there in my little thought process of, “If I ever decide to do it, it will be at that cliff.” I hiked up the small mountain in the pre-dawn darkness. After about a mile, something told me I needed to watch the sunrise first. Have one last sunrise before I’d never see one again.
Nature had different plans in mind for me. I got to the cliff and sat down on the edge, while slowly scooting closer and closer to the void in front of and below me. And I watched the night sky fade away. The sunrise turned out to be incredibly beautiful, which isn’t a rarity here in Colorado, but this one just looked especially stunning. As the golden light swelled bright from the east, the birds all around me started going crazy with their chirping and songs of the morning. It was a moment, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. I was already crying. Sitting on the edge of that cliff. All feelings and determination I had to jump off that cliff flowed away from me like ice melting down in the spring thaw.
Nature has saved me many times before in many different ways. But this time it saved my life, it saved my soul. I’m still processing that moment and I probably will for the rest of my life. Every day since then I am so thankful I changed my mind. I am so thankful something, or someone, told me I should watch the sunrise first. I realized I wanted, I needed, more of these sunrises and to hear more of these birds chirp and more of these adventures and journeys and time spent outside in nature and with my friends and family.
I had a dream the other night where I’m walking along a trail in Strawberry Field and I get to a point where I have a very clear view, from the bottom, of the cliff I sat on top of. And I felt a sense of regret that I didn’t go through with it. I woke up with a sigh of relief that I was still here. The brain is a weird thing. This demon will always be a struggle for me for the rest of my life. I’m on brain medication now, finally, and can’t wait to see where that takes me to better manage my life. I feel hope again after feeling hopeless for so long. I’ve often uttered, “death to cynicism,” which is easier said than done, but I am sticking with that mantra.
I know this post isn’t about some big new hike I just did. I know it’s not my usual thing I like to discuss on here and on my Wild Westendorf social media in general. But I have touched on mental health before and I think it’s important to keep that a presence over here during my adventures. I think it’s a largely ignored aspect of the outdoors and what it can do to help us, help our mental health, help our bodies, help our souls. We get too caught up (including me!) on personal records, getting faster and faster on the trails, doing harder and more and more difficult hikes, trying to one-up each other, turning things into a competition accidentally. We forget just how good being outside and being in nature can be for so much more than just physical reasons and bragging rights.
I’m on a different journey right now than I had thought I would be at this point. I’m still processing that moment on the cliff. I’m in a much better headspace since that morning, for sure, but I still don’t like the uncertainty I still have ahead of me. But, my love of the outdoors came back ten times stronger than before and, holy shit, it really hit me hard. I’m so glad summer is nearly here and the weather has been hot and warm and beautiful.
I’m really glad I changed my mind in the last moment and that nature helped me do so. I’m glad I’m still here. Now go outside and enjoy yourself and love your life and be glad you’re still here, too.
Wild Westendorf 