I'm the kid with the big plans, I just don't know them yet. But I'm a freshman in college and hope to some day become more than a mystery. As for now? Life is a book, each day is a paragraph and each week a chapter. It's kind of a long book, but I hope mine is quite the page-turner.|
Tumblr: www.tumblr.com/blog/littlewhea… and www.tumblr.com/blog/littlewhea…
Summer jobs are a thing, yeah? Like especially when you’re only 18 and don’t have a “real” constant job. (Waitressing is solid but it doesn’t count, y’know?) I’m young and poor and that’s that.
So, like most college kids- I decided I’d try to be a camp counselor. In short- did not get the job. On top of that, as some followers might already know, I broke my leg this winter. So about 42 days ago I had surgery. Having just received the apologetic decline that no I did not get the job as a counselor at the camp I used to attend as a child, I remembered this other opportunity a friend of mine suggested in Colorado (much cooler than Indiana, anyways.) In my doped up and sort of sad head I decided that despite being a flat-footed Hoosier with no experience in hiking mountains, I’d apply anyways because dammit I’m young and I want this.
I got it. I got the job. Despite everything, I. Got. The. Job.
(I found out two weeks ago and no, it has not sunk in yet.)
So on one hand, this is a dream come true for me! I’ve honestly always dreamed of doing something like this and here I am actually doing it! I get paid to explore Colorado- smack on the Continental Divide, no less! I mean, my instagram bio used to be “adventure is out there! Now go claim it”
And I’m so proud of myself because I did. I actually did!
On the other hand? I’m terrified. See, my dad is from Colorado so I learned how to ski at age 3 and have grown up in the mountains. Thing is? Thats skiing. I have a LOT of experience skiing. Not hiking, though. Hiking is entirely different. And they want me to be a guide? They want me to lead other ADULTS that will be older than ME up a mountain? I can already hear the complaints about me being a kid. (And I welcome them because I’m young, yes, but I am stubborn and while I’m scared, I’m almost certain I’ll pull through because as cheesy as it sounds, the sports I played in high school taught me that I am strong both in will and in might and I have proven myself time and time again to the only person I need to prove- myself. So while I’m a little doubtful, I figure that just gives me the perseverance to fight and work and in the end- I’m optimistic that I will surprise myself like I have done before. And let me tell you, when that happens? That’s true confidence, man. You can conquer the world with that stuff.)
But despite that- I only just started walking on my still-on-the-mend and was-once-broken-but-now-kind-of-isn’t leg last friday. (It’s day 8 on my feet again (Still in a boot but hey I’m WALKING. I’ve been injured for 60 days, and I can finally walk again.) So I’m healing and it looks as though my recovery will fall ‘perfectly’ in line with the Guiding start date in late May. But it’s hard and I can’t risk any set backs or re-injury. I’ll still be on the mend when I begin my job and I might have failed to mention said injury to my new boss because like I said- I’m stubborn and I’ll deal with whatever pain I have because I want this.
And don’t even get me started on how much gear I need to acquire. (
And how expensive and scary it is. Or how I don’t know how to use any of it. Or how stressful that is in and of itself or-)
So to cut myself off, that’s the general long and vague prelude to what this WIP is about subject-wise. (Which will most definitely be titled as a pun after a Meatloaf song when it’s finished. “This is When Rocky Mountain Dreams Come True.” No I am not ashamed.)
But that girl with the stringy, messy, falling-out braid? That’s me. (And yes, I have that exact hat but in 3-D.) And looking at it is both relaxing, exciting, sentimental and tranquil while still managing to stir up a fair amount of anxiety. But it’s me and my opportunity. It’s my journey that I’m finally beginning because it was supposed to begin this past year. When you graduate high school you think everything will be great. Everyone implies that it will be. That it’s the best four years of your life. I mean, everyone forces you to go to college. They act like it’s required and in a way, maybe it is. But my heart was never in the college search or college in general. And maybe that’s why I’ve hated it so much. I mean, I have had a terrible time. You know what? I’m saying it. I HATE COLLEGE. I was (am) honest-to-God depressed all of the first semester and the majority of this second semester. I have never been in such a dark place. And while I haven’t seen a doctor yet, I have all of the tell-tale signs. Or, I did, at least. And in a weird way this injury of mine that is still slowly healing symbolizes that realization. (Oh my gosh is it slow or what?)
I mean, one night I woke up at four in the morning. My roommate was gone for the weekend so I had the room to myself. I was asleep and randomly woke up with a start. I sat up and immediately started bawling. Not just the silent tears I’m rarely seen shedding. I was BAWLING. SOBBING. Uncontrollable whimpers, breathe hitching and hiccuping and my body shaking. I’m talking the kind of sobbing I haven’t done since I was a kid. Or maybe even a child. All I know is that I haven’t cried that hard EVER. Not that I remember. And I realized something that morning- I was broken. I had suppressed so much- I was putting on this happy face for everyone with my broken leg and college in general. “Oh yeah, things are great! College is great! I have a broken leg but I’m doing fine! Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage!” I had repressed my emotions Dean Winchester style and they finally broke the bond and exploded from my subconscious that night. And I cried so hard and so long. It was four am when I awoke and I wasn’t calmed down enough to sleep until the sun had already begun to rise. And just as the day dawned so did my own realization. Something was wrong. I was broken. In fact, I am still broken. (In more ways than one.) I looked at my leg all useless and in a splint and realized how flipping symbolic my predicament was (and still is.). I’m on the mend. And if this injury of mine has taught me anything it’s A) Feet are important B) People are selfish and judgmental assholes and most importantly C) Healing takes time. And realizing things? That’s just the beginning. That’s the break. You have to pick yourself up every day. You have to get up and fight physics on your hands because you can’t freaking walk. You adapt. You heal. You re-injure. You misdiagnose. You discover. Have surgery. You have pain. You have despair and anger. You get mad, man. And you get humble. You take that first painful step. And you rest. You improve. You get better but it takes a damn long time to heal. With my leg, it was 60 days ago and I have at least 60 more until I can finally run again. I’m still walking. And with everything else? It takes longer. And it’s maddening. It’s frustrating. It’s beautiful. It’s life. It sucks.
But I just imagine myself on top of a mountain. I look back and I realize that I did it. All the pain. The tiredness. The moment(s) I wanted to give up. The moments I rested. The moments I was in awe of where I’ve already been and in awe of how far I still have to go. When I doubt myself. When I think things are just too different. I stand there. And it’s not perfect. It’s not done. I still have to go back down. And the next week I’ll have a brand new trail to travel and a new mountain to conquer and the two might even be one and the same but it’ll be a different day and a different challenge. But I’ll have that mountain top. That sudden and glorious and far to quickly passed bird’s eye view.
So Colorado this summer? It’s really a very large step. In so many ways. But it’s one I need to take.
I always knew I’d have to leave home if I ever wanted to become who I am meant to be. Prodigal Son thy name is Cassidy.
But a journey is a journey is a journey is a journey. I might as well pass the time with a good story or two.
So to conclude this huge spill of emotion- I’ll finish the drawing soon. I was just starting to get really anxious and had to stop for the night. I guess I’ll rest and begin anew tomorrow.
And the next day.
And the next week.
And until I can’t take another bloody step.