"But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ." – The Little Prince
Author: Ray of Sunshine
I consider myself first and foremost, a dog mom. Second, I consider myself an explorer, healer, and writer. To use more societally accepted labels, I'm a mental health therapist with a background in wilderness therapy, a running coach, and writer. My blog will share stories of growth, healing, mental wellness, the occasional running post, and of course, my adventures with my dog.
I was texting with a friend and mentioned my fear about being living so close to my 3 yurt neighbors. Will I have to socialize? If so, how often? Will it be awkward? Will my peace be disturbed? (Yikes!)
He texts me back “What are you afraid of? People love you.” and proceeded to list off examples.
Feeling misunderstood and slightly annoyed, I decided it was a good time to end the conversation.
Then, like always, I thought more about what he said to me and considered his examples, as well as other memories being in a group. Being honest with myself, in the midst of a few memories of feeling totally out of place at a business function (in my past life) or in a group of runners, I had to admit; people generally seem to like me. I might be social awkward, and I might have a challenging time being part of a group, but people either don’t notice or don’t care about the things I say or do that are slightly “off”. Those things that I’ll generally replay on repeat in my mind later on. Other times, when people look at me, I debate with myself if they’re looking at me because they find me intriguing…or just odd. Another possibility… maybe it’s my perception of myself and others that is a little off. Maybe I’m not that awkward…or maybe we’re all a little weird.
This new thought, that people generally liked me as a person, was confirmed when I met and chatted with my new yurt neighbors the following week.
Where my fear came from, I’m not 100% sure, but I think it might be time to start changing it.
*Another note on fear… a lot of it is based in the future and ends up not being real. The only thing that I was asked if I wanted to do was go in the sauna after we learned how to turn it on, which I politely declined. Otherwise, I think most of us yurt folk are early to bed and like to keep warm at night in our own tiny abode.
Why do we always want to tell others how they hurt us? Most of us knowing we would never get an apology, or even recognition that we have wounds. My own experience is rarely an acknowledgement of my feelings. Usually, it’s a complete lack of a response and I feel abandoned all over again.
Maybe it’s a wish things could somehow, miraculously, fantastically, work out. Maybe the hard parts could be undone, erased. Less from a feeling of sadness or anger. More from love- back to the denial of a love lost.
Even when we know its fantasy, even when we know we want to be loved differently. By someone who hears our needs and does more then speaks words, but takes appropriate action.
What to do when left with our own hurt?
Acceptance… yes, of the situation. But more so, of the fact we are still grieving.
From there, the only other answer I have found is to sit or walk with the hurt, even as it lingers. To keep showing up for myself and my pain that few others in my life ever could. To stop grasping at the clouds. To witness myself “I see your pain, and I am with you.”
On the last lunar eclipse, I thanked the skies for finding you. Tonight, I offered a simple prayer of gratitude for the growth I endured. Then I thanked the skies for finding me.
*While we just has a lunar eclipse a few weeks ago, I’m referring to last year’s November lunar eclipse…but that didn’t sound very poetic.
A calm, regulated nervous system creates an atmosphere within the body in which healing is achieved. The body truly is designed to heal.
“Higher levels of stress cause higher cortisol output via the HPA axis, and cortisol inhibits the activity of the inflammatory cells involved in wound healing.” -Gabar Mate, When the Body Says No
While this quote is specific to wound healing, we can transfer this knowledge to the whole body, as the book When the Body Says No does for many conditions such as ALS and cancer. I was also lucky enough learn from other therapists who carried this knowledge and have helped people heal mentally and physically. In addition, I can bet you that any of my counseling clients who experience high anxiety also have gut issues, in part because the blood flow is being directed outward, just in case they have to fight, flee, for freeze, and not towards the gut to help digest foods. On a more personal note, I can tell when I get a headache that I’ve caused because of high levels of stress and worry.
*Childhood Disrupted by Donna Jackson Nakazawa is another good read on the topic
In short, science is finally catching up to what many healers already know. Actually, what many of us know, but have been taught to ignore or thought silly after frightened men gave intuition names like “woo woo” and undermined Eastern traditions.
As I wrote in a recent post “Healing” https://adogandhergirl.com/2022/10/23/healing/, I’m on a path towards healing my Achilles heel, in part by calming and regulating my nervous system.
Without exactly knowing it until a friend defined it (https://adogandhergirl.com/2022/10/27/wanderlust-and-transformation/) I was in the wanderlust phase, or what others may call the transformation or liminal phase. The phase of “in-between”. No longer my old self, not yet my new self. What I conveniently forgot is that the wanderlust phase involves a challenge, and that challenge doesn’t actually happen externally…from a divorce, death of a loved one, or an outdoor survival challenge. It’s actually what happens within. While my challenge initiated by being unable to work through attachment wounds with a lover*, the actual challenge was working with what was happening inside of me. The internal messages of not being good enough, not being wanted, not being understood, and all the fear, sadness, and pain that came with that. In short, I was actually forced to start healing my attachment wounds. I continually showed up for myself (https://adogandhergirl.com/2022/08/04/i-will-not-abandon-you-coming-back-to-myself-in-the-san-juan-mountains/), much of it through inner child work. It was liberating…and also exhausting. A continuous cycle of fear coming up and self soothing, dysregulated to regulated. There just wasn’t enough energy left for my Achilles to heel (not to mention I was still hiking up mountains with Pacer).
*In hindsight, it probably started much easier, just more subtly.
Hence, the cocoon phase. A phase often left out of the stages of transition or rites of passage. A phase I would gladly hand out to any of my counseling clients if I could, if our society wasn’t based on “work, work work, earn, earn, earn.” Because of how I had already been living, this was something that I could carve out and and create in my life. Hence, yurt life.
Quiet. At the edge of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Peace. A step back from going into the office for work, from errands of daily life. Also, intentions of serenity and healing, which I’ve created the next 6 months around. (I could have easily allowed my life to become busier without intention.)
I am still working on taking more time away from Instagram, but I’m getting there. Healing takes time after all 😉
I was hiking with a dear friend earlier in the year and talking about some of my internal struggles. This friend also happened to be a therapist, and someone much more holistic medicine and astrologically knowledgeable than I am. At one point, she ever so quickly paused but so clearly said to me “Oh, I think you’re supposed to be going through this right now. You’re in the transformation stage.”
I instantly resonated with her words, I just thought, or hoped, I was further along in the journey. To be clear, nothing externally tragic was happening to me. Just a “relationship” opening up old wounds. My discomfort was internal. Only in hindsight can I realize I was letting go of, resisting, and grieving my past self. The part of me that wasn’t serving me anymore, but had protected me for so long. A loss is a loss, even if it’s the best possible thing for you. I was in the process of exposing my wounds so they could be healed…and not just healed, but transformed.
“Love can only heal what presents itself to be healed. If our woundedness remains hidden, it cannot be healed. The best in us cannot come out unless the worst comes out as well.” -John Welwood, PhD
Now, looking back, I can see my journey with clarity, a clarity that I certainly didn’t have when I was going through it. I just trusted (most of the time…okay, some of the time) my friends words and my intuition that I was on the right path.
And that, my friends, was the North Star in my Wanderlust Phase.
As to what I am transforming into, or rather, who I am becoming, that has yet to be seen. But it’s gonna be good. As well as any evolution thereafter.
Mentally and physically, I believe the intensity of my pain from the past year is behind me, but the wounds are still open, exposed. Or rather, the small tears in my Achilles heel are still-rebuilding. It’s time to cocoon, to rest, to protect the wounds- both in nature and in my healing hut. It’s time to let my wounds close.
Both physically and mentally, I’ve just been tired.
Physically, I’m tired of limping around post hike and of giving the extra mental effort to manage the discomfort. (To be clear, I am very much a proponent of listening to the body, and I did experience periods of decreasing symptoms that gave me hope. I did very little running and hiked most of the summer. When I got the MRI results in mid-August, I knew I wasn’t going to make anything worse by hiking a few more mountains, and my intuition felt good with the decision to wait to rest, as my soul needed to be above tree line). Physically, the biggest feeling I have is that, more than anything, I simply just ready to run freely and joyfully next year.
Mentally, I’m ready to be re-energized and have my open, wild heart back at full capacity. While experiencing the fullness of my emotions has been a worthwhile endeavor, doing so repeatedly over the past year because of situation I put myself in, had been nothing but exhausting. Obviously as a therapist, I’ve done a lot of inner work. I was simply unprepared for the amount of work I still had to do. I believe that a person was sent into my life, unknowingly, lovingly, and crushingly, to expose my deepest wounds. This forced me to use all my therapy tools to re-parent myself in the most nurturing and loving way possible (I am determined to be a therapist who practices what I preach). I didn’t exactly have to start from scratch- my parents truly are wonderful people- they simply didn’t know what to do with my big emotions as a kid. Which meant that, without realizing it, I had taken on many of the “tough love” practices I grew up with, and then enhanced them in not the kindest of ways.
I had to learn to feel, truly feel, all of my emotions. To show up for them. To show up for me. To learn how to self soothe. To say things to myself like “I got you. You’re okay.” “I will not abandon you.” “I love you.”
I don’t know if the hard journey I took was the only way. And I can hold no hate in my heart for the person who exposed my wounds. I believe that person’s own wounds were so deep that they didn’t even know they were running. What I do know is that once I heal from this, I’ll truly have the capacity to be the best, most stunning version of myself.
While I can feel my wounds starting to close, I also know I’m tired. As any athlete knows, the only way to re-build and recover is to rest. And the only way to heal is to give yourself the compassion and grace to do so.
Thoughts on PRP and other physical healing modalities…
I ended up choosing PRP (platelet rich plasma injection), a form of regenerative medicine, because I knew my body could use the extra boost to heal after having chronic Achilles pain for so long. I also liked the fact that it was still my own body doing the healing, and I trusted my PT who suggested it.
For most people, PRP wouldn’t be my first choice, for several reasons. One, it’s expensive. Two, it’s extremely (to say it lightly) uncomfortable. I also think there are other great modalities out there, and obviously I’ll put PT exercises at the forefront. Then there’s dry needling (one of the few alternative forms of treatment accepted by SOME insurance companies), massage, and EPAT/shockwave therapy (among others I’m not as familiar with). I actually tried shockwave in the summer, and I actually think it would have had a chance at working if it wasn’t summer and I wasn’t climbing mountains every week. Shockwave, and with some doctors PRP*, are advertised as treatments where you can return to activity as normal immediately. And aren’t those the magic words we all want to hear? Maybe its true for more minor injuries, but my opinion, from my own experience, is that its a bit of marketing scam. I mean, if your body is in pain, doesn’t it make sense to just rest for at least a little bit? With that, I think PRP and the field of regenerative medicine is pretty cool and promising.
*My PT doc said that when I got PRP, I would absolutely have to take time off, and this is largely what I had read. I was more than a little surprised when the doctor performing the PRP said I could return to activity right away…especially when I’ve barely been able to run anyway. While I really liked by that doctor and trusted her to do the PRP, I think the center I went to was a little overly liberal in their treatment approaches (my sister actually received a cortisone shot in her Achilles years earlier by one of the other doctors there, which really isn’t a best practice for an Achilles tendon as it can cause further damage). I’ll just round this paragraph out by saying that its extremely important to me to have a team around me that is caring, listens, and are trustworthy. At this point in my life I’ve learned to say no when I disagree with someone’s opinion. With that, I got the PRP, and I’m 100% going to take the month plus off that I 100% know my body needs to heal and then return to running very slowly.
My final note here is that we all have our own healing journeys. There are many paths to choose from, and whatever we choose, it will be the best (created) path for us. Whatever specialist you see, they will most likely agree that their specialty is the correct one. I would actually highly trust any doctor who tells you “no”. For example, the doctor I saw for shockwave finally said she didn’t want to do another treatment and then sent me to get an MRI, and I’m so grateful for her. She finally made me realize I truly needed to stop running and hiking to heal. On the other hand, if I went to see a surgeon, I can almost guarantee you they would have done surgery. (Not my path.) Similarly, several years ago a surgeon was ready to perform surgery on a labrum tear* and hip dysplasia, also telling me I’d eventually need surgery on my hamstrings. I didn’t have pain, I just didn’t feel like I had full control of my leg. I had the strongest feeling that surgery was not the right path for me (though it still took me some time to listen to that feeling, even when I cried during the MRI). But my sister’s good friend and great runner recently did have surgery for her labrum tear, and I 100% know she choose the right path for her (and I apologize to her for being another person to give my opinion on the matter, rather than just supporting her in trusting her inner knowing.). In short, get several opinions, but come back to trusting your gut. And don’t bypass the healing power of rest.
*The research on labrum tears, at least in the hips, is extremely mixed. Some people experience pain, and some people have no symptoms at all.
Over the past four years, I’ve been blessed to call Estes Park home. Choosing to leave has been a process of grief, learning how to distinguish intuition from fear, and then finally, of gratitude.
Among many things, Estes Park has taught me how to “life life like a (conscious)* tourist”, to slow down, to be in awe of everything around me (and take a million pictures), and to truly enjoy “traffic” jams (aka. elk in the middle of the road)… those times life just asks you to stop. To stop, so there’s nothing else you can do but to contemplate how painfully beautiful life is.
Every time I’ve gotten a little annoyed at being stuck in a quarter of a mile long line at the grocery store or when a jeep tour drives up my road while I’m trying to peacefully walk with Pacer, that feeling has always been quickly replaced gratitude when I remember “…and I am lucky enough to live here. A town where everyone else only gets to come for vacation.”
Estes Park is surely not an easy town to leave. I still believe it has some, if not the best, 13ers and lakes in the state. And my counseling clients (many of who I will continue to see online)…well they all have places in my heart. While there has been grief in this choice I made, right now I much rather celebrate my time in Estes Park with some things I’ve learned living in a tourist town.
*I’m obviously not going to try to pet an elk, park in the middle of the road, or use 20+ plastic bags from Safeway in one trip.
Here are my tips on “How to Live Life like a Tourist”:
-Stop at the first sign into town and take a picture because you’re so excited about the day ahead. Really. Commemorate each day you’re alive by bringing enthusiasm into the day. There are adventures, big and small, ahead of you.
-If caught in traffic, whether from elk or other tourists, take it as extra time to gaze in wonder at the beauty of the mountains. Remember that everyone else in traffic is simply trying to experience the magic too. (And if you’re running late, remember it’s your own fault for not taking the tourist traffic, that you 100% know is going to be there, into account …but still driving the speed limit because there may wildlife trying to cross the road. Then still using one of those reasons as an excuse as to why you’re late.) (Okay, okay, that may be a local… or just a personal piece of advice.)
-When feeling overwhelmed by the amount of people in the tiny downtown, focus in on the good. People are outside enjoying themselves and time with their families. Tune in to their happiness. That family eating ice cream together on a winter day…that image will be one in your memory almost as long as the view of Hallet’s Peak.
-When hiking, even if you only making it to the first lake a quarter mile up the trail, be as excited as if you hiked 5 miles to get there. Celebrate with the elders, people with disabilities, and those people out of their comfort zone just being outdoors, who rarely get to witness such stunning scenery.
-Do all of the “tourist things”, because they are truly fun to do: Sssllooowwllyy drive up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, play with the chimes on the walking path leading into town, ride the mountain coaster, take pictures of the elk (even though they are everywhere), try all of the restaurants with a vegan option, get a selfie with the statue of Enos Mills and his pup, slowly sip your coffee at InkWell and stock up on greeting cards for the next 6 months, and go into all the Christmas stores downtown (maybe, or maybe not, skipping the taffy stores…is taffy even real candy?).
-Be thankful (and patient) when people stop at the “yield” signs, rather than actually yielding. They are just being extra safe and trying to make town more pedestrian friendly.
-When leaving town, make sure to glance one more time out the rear view mirror and be grateful for the amazing time you had. The day may be over, but each moment you spent in the mountains and with loved ones will be ingrained into the DNA of your soul.
********
In the end, we’re truly all just tourists, in these human bodies, on this physical plane. We could despair at this thought, of the impermanence of it all, but wouldn’t the better option be to choose joy? To be in such deep, deep gratitude that we get this experience, in such a miraculous place, with so many interesting people, that we simultaneously want to cry, laugh, and scream in excitement?
In a lifetime, if we are lucky, we experience many deaths.
The seasons tell us so. The calendar, death’s creation.
And each spring, a rebirth. Unless you try to resist- but then you’ll never grow… Just bitter with resentment. Choose to die, and you’ll blossom.
For a lifetime, many defy what makes us human. What makes us alive. But there is no greater loss than a life unlived, or better preparation for the next adventure.
Letting go is scary. Where will I fall? From the quote on my wall comes to me the voice of poet E.H…. but what if I fly?
Just as the voices of Helen Keller and Mary Oliver came to me earlier in the week: “Life is is either a daring adventure or nothing.” (Helen Keller) ” Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” These are the voices of the women who inspire me the most. Dare I join their ranks? Dare I not?
They must have felt scared at times too. Wondered if they chose the right direction. Asked “Is this the right path?” And then made it so.
Bravery is the step you take when feeling scared.
I want to be brave. I am brave.
Not fear and rationalities aside…they sure as hell are still inside of me. In my gut, spinning around in my head. But deeper than the fear in my gut is a tiny voice and a choice to trust my Higher Self.
“I (and Pacer) will be okay.” says my Intuition.
Adventure awaits… You simply must be ready to spread your wings when it comes calling.
Running with your dog can add infinite amounts of joy to an already joyous activity. But there are few more responsibilities and things to consider when running with your favorite pacer. Here are Coach Ray & Coach Pacer’s top tips!
1.It’s Your Dogs Run/Adventure
Our number one rule when running with your dog is simple: It’s your dog’s run. If your dog isn’t into the run that day, you turn and go home. If the dog doesn’t want to scramble to the top of the mountain, you turn and go home. It’s that simple, and probably obvious too. But sometimes our egos get in the way. Your job as a human is to rise above that ego (and Instagram photo) and remember how much you love your dog.
2. Water
Anytime in the summer and anytime you’re on a new route, we recommend you fill up with water. Anytime Pacer and I run in the desert or canyons, I’m going in with a full hydration reservoir. In the summer, it can be helpful to look at maps to see if there are creek crossings, but you can’t always trust them. It’s always good to have a water filter with you too just in case, as you’ll go through water quickly if you’re carrying for two, regardless if your pup finds a stream to jump in.
3. Leash
We really love the leash belts. While not perfect for running form, it’s better than having one arm being pulled out. If possible, have the belt/leash rest below your waist. It’s likely not going to stay there, especially if you have a pup like Pacer who’s going to try and fly down hill and pull you like a kite. In that case, let the leash be a reminder to keep a neutral pelvis. If you are on a trail that allows off-leash dogs, have full voice command over your dog and you might want to put your dog back on leash if you see a pup with a leash on. For people and dogs who have been chased by dogs before, it can be scary to see an off-leash dog running towards them, no matter how friendly the pup. If you’re not on an off-leash trail, please respect the rules. They are there for a reason and are really there for the love of all dogs, animals, nature, and people. Pacer and I live in the mountains, and it always amazes me to see people who let their dogs off-leash when the area is prone to elk, mountain lions, bears, and moose.
4. Long mountain adventures with your pup
There is nothing more Pacer and I love than spending a day in the mountains together. But there is more to think about when heading out. One thing I’ve learned to always carry with me are dog booties. If you’re on a mountain that is rocky, I’d put them on early. I’ve had a hard time forgiving myself for the times one of Pacer’s paw pads ripped and it could have been prevented. After trying several types of booties over many years, we finally settled on a simple cloth booty, used by mushing dogs. They are fairly inexpensive and stay on better than the more expensive booties. For summer mountains, Mountain Ridge has a “tough boots” option made out of a durable fabric. Last year, I also finally bought a dog rescue harness (Fido Pro Airlift), mainly for peace of mind. I don’t always take it with us, but truly, it’s better just to be okay with carrying a little extra weight into the mountains. Finally, if I’m unsure of the route and it’s a big distance, I’ll see if another human friend can go with us. Last year, on the “Pacer’s Big Day” 14er route (Redcloud, Sunshine, and Handies- 19.6 miles, 7,831ft of gain), “Aunt” Sandi came with us. Aunt Sandi also always brings extra treats for Pacer, which Pacer says is also important to have on long mountain adventure days.
(We also have a Garmin inReach for additional safety.)
A Dog and Her Girl 