One Month Home

It’s been about a month since Stew and I returned from finishing our travels on the Pacific Crest Trail. One month since I walked up to the northern terminus of that trail and called it done. A month of spending time with friends and re-nesting our little trailer home. So how does it feel? Well, just like trying to explain my feelings about the trip itself it’s hard to share. It’s complicated. Finishing felt nothing like I thought it would and in many ways, so has being home. It’s a few things at once… or in turns maybe. 

Normal

Many folks give up their home lives to accomplish a thru hike. They give up the room they’ve been renting and quit their jobs. Maybe store all their belongings at their families or sell their car. Being in our thirties, our lives are a little more stable than the average thru hiker (most are either in the 20’s or retirement age). We had a home, at least one job to come back to and a group of friends excited to spend time with us upon our return. All of these things are immense blessings and also worked to make it feel as if I had never left. Which was weird. The normalcy I came home to made me question all the things I’d felt had changed about me on trail. It was easy to slide back into old habits of a more sedentary life. On trail I felt capable, physically and mentally. Challenge and movement felt a part of me more than anything else ever had. It was incredibly empowering. Being home again felt like my ordinary self was slipping back over me like a disguise. My “normal person” alter ego. After nearly six months of extraordinary living, the normalcy can feel so stifling. To be honest, it made me feel numb.

Depressed

I wasn’t really sure what form Post Trail Depression would take for me. It’s a common topic in the thru hiking community because what I am feeling is common. No surprise there; spend a prolonged period of time away from your normal life, doing something intense and you’re likely to come back changed. But when you come home a lot of things will be just as you left them. Same hamster wheel of a work life, same politics cycling through and the same demands that you fit into society's big box shaped norms. The truth is that it’s a real challenge to find fulfillment in regular life, unlike the trail where your goal is clean cut and handed to you with a nice dose of peaceful solitude. Not to mention the PCT is beautiful so inspiration to keep at it is easy to find. Uhhh, and then there’s the people (I’m not crying, you’re crying)! There are few opportunities in life to feel so intrinsically part of a community of extraordinary people all walking the same path. Imagine walking past someone on the street and instead of ignoring them you both stop and each ask how the other’s day is. That is what being a thru hiker is like. It’s a lot to give up.

Inspired

So anyway, it’s been a mixed bag. The last month on trail I thought a lot about what I wanted for myself when I came home. Some things were clear, like wanting to be of help to my greater community and needing to make regular exercise a part of my life. I’ve tried to hold onto these along with the knowledge that I had proven to myself my true capabilities. The trail taught me just how much power I had over my own emotional state; a bad day on trail could look the same as a good one depending on what was happening inside my own head. This felt so powerful while hiking. It still does but while living this normal life it’s much easier to be distracted from that power. There are so many things vying for our attention day to day and most are uttering unimportant. Sifting through the garbage is exhausting; staying focused is sometimes impossible. So how is it done? Hell if I know but I have a feeling it’s just a little bit at a time. Just like the extremely cliche bit of advice everyone insisted on giving me pre-trail: one step at a time. It’s only partially true though, more of a three point focus. One eye on the step in front of you, one forward on the person you’re trying to be and one pointed back (third eye?), to remember that you made it this far. Although it feels like a dream sometimes, I did spend five months accomplishing something amazing. As time goes on I’ll likely find better ways to keep that experience close to my heart and to utilize what I learned there.