Well… I made it. No hiccups, lost bags, passports or minds. No matter who you are, traveling can be challenging but I guess our attitude makes all the difference. As an overloaded traveler, I am finding myself in the face of obstacles that I normally can avoid. I must find courage to face my fears.

I headed to the airport on Wednesday as I normally would. Being midweek, traffic at Seatac was light and we were able to make excellent time, keeping stress to a minimum. As many of you know, just getting to the airport can be very stressful. I have been determined to make this trip all about taking it easy, not making a plan, and allowing myself to drop fears so as to not be tied to a schedule that may keep me confined to the comfort of  the norm.

I failed my first challenge.  My norm is to overpack, taking ever possible outfit or accessory I thought I might need.  I worked very hard to keep all of my stuff to a minimum on this trip so as to have only one bag that would qualify as a carry-on. Perhaps that is why this first challenge made me so mad. I took great offense when the British Airways ticket guy tried to question the size of my backpack.

I only went up to the ticketing counter to ask if trekking poles were okay to bring on the plane. They didn’t even know what trekking poles were. The first person asked someone who looked like a manager. This person says that if they are strapped to the outside…I interrupted and told him they are in my backpack. He gives me a look and then looks at my backpack and asks me if that is my carry-on and then makes me put it in the carry-on box thingy. I have carried many bags on planes much thicker than this pack and see people take bigger packs before, so, considering I did not ask if my bag could be carried on the plane, I could have bypassed this damn process altogether.

So, he says if I won’t test it they would be happy to check it for me. I immediately get agitated. I put my pack in and it fits in with ease standing on end and he says if I can’t lay it on its side, then I have to check it. I tell him that my shoes are strapped on top, and that may impede the fit but without them it should be fine. He proceeds to tell me he can check the bag. Arg! You fucker! So I, in a huff remove my shoes from the top, throw them on the ground,  And the bag slips very easily into the space. All I can do is turn around, look at him with a smirk and a mental middle finger pointing is way. He says, ” I guess it fits”. I just walk away. He still never answered my initial question. What I found most agrivating was that my moms roll aboard was wider than mine, yet they did not make her try it. Carry-on discrimination?

Getting on board is where I feel the most fear. I am painfully aware that over the past year I have put on weight, I am more aware when I go to take my seat. Is the seatbelt going to fit? It didn’t. Fear set in. Now I was going to have to ask for an extension. Not only was I squeezed so tightly into my seat that my mom and I could not lower the center arm rest I was going to have to admit defeat and ask for the extension, bringing attention to the fact I was not able to fit the standard belt. Why this brought me so much fear, I did not know, but it was the first time this happened. I failed. Since my mom was on the aisle it was easier for her to get up. She asked for it. I dodged the bullet and this was one of the reasons I should not have brought her with me. The challenge of asking for help is one I need to conquer. Next flight. I put on the extension, flew 9 hours across the Atlantic, made it to London and the world did not end. It may have been uncomfortable but it was temporary.

We found our way to the hostel in Southwark. Nice place, hip and happening with a chill out space and bar as well as an included breakfast. We got here early enough that I was able to take a nap, relax and unwind before going to dinner and a Shakespeare play at The Globe. Next challenge, dinner.

We walked to the theater, as it was close and training for the walk is in full effect. We figured we could locate a place to eat on the way. The one place whose name seemed synonymous with American food was a place called Porky’s bbq. I would have gone in there but I think the ambiance was a bit muddled by the 5 tables of beer pong in the corner, not my scene. We were running out of time so we went into the next restaurant that we saw, here is the challenge, it was Anatolian Turkish food. This was seriously foreign territory, but if going with the flow was my attitude of this trip… I went with it and it was a very positive experience. The tables were short and the chairs were shorter. You were not sitting on the floor but it reminded me of being in a first grade parent-teacher conference. If you have been there, you know what I mean.

The menu was Turkish with English descriptions and it was kind of a chance to just say, I’ll try that, and then hope for the best  I got lucky. It was tasty, inexpensive and a unique experience. This stepping out of my comfort zone is proving to be a positive experience.

Next challenge is tickets in the standing room only spot of The Globe for  2 hours of Shakespeare by candlelight. I left at intermission. There is only so much discomfort I will allow myself to endure.

Back to the hostel and the final challenge of the evening. I took my shower, got ready for bed and the task at hand. As an overloaded woman sleeping on the top bunk was…a challenge. I have not slept on a top bunk in a long time. As I climbed up the ladder, I remembered how it was difficult even when I was younger  I had myself organized so I would not have to climb down again. I wore my flip flops and up I went up. Mission accomplished and it was not as hard as I thought it was going to be. In went the ear plugs and I fell asleep hard and had the best nights sleep I have in awhile.

I have been thinking about what the word “Overloaded” means. It is not just a way to describe our bodies.Overloaded means that we are carrying baggage that weighs us down, and this can come in many different forms. We may be carrying feelings around in our heads and hearts that contribute to carrying more baggage on our asses. The dreaded emotional baggage that we stuff down and stuff down with comforting foods that make us feel good at the moment but contribute to a life of ups and downs. As I have said, the point of this blog is to be healthy; healthy in the mind plus healthy in the heart. The other stuff (our bodies) just naturally follows suit when the first two are in balance.

If we are meant to be Overloaded, so be it, but, I have a hunch and maybe this is the secret, that when we have balance; our bodies just hop on and enjoy the ride.

With that being said, what is it with mother & daughter relationships? You know what I mean? You might have one of those, bonded, cord never been cut relationships. Perhaps you talk everyday. Are you…frenemies? Well, my mother and I have a past fraught with a lack of understanding, communication, anger, resentment. We may be in the frenemies category, I am not really sure. I don’t think I really know my mother very well and vice-a-versa.

Here is a little bit of background:

I was sent away to an “emotional growth” boarding school when I was 14. I was teetering on the edge of a cliff and most likely would have fallen had I not been pulled back. However, leaving my home, came with consequences. One of those happened to be that I was not going to be part of my family anymore and for significant years in my life, during a time of personal achievement and growth. The relationship with my mother was already pretty crappy by that point,  so when I transferred to another boarding school to finish high school,  I had really only been a visitor while their lives were still going on. My parents relationship had already crumbled and was holding on by a very thin thread. They told me it was probably best that I was not around while all that was happening, but in some ways, it never did happen. I never experienced it, the loss, the emotion and pain of a family breaking up. Granted, it was probably a good thing that it happened in general,but to not be a witness leaves us, left me, with unanswered questions and feelings. To not be home and part of a family felt very lonely.

I was strong, I was very good at putting on a mask, closing myself off and not letting anyone see how much I was hurting. I relied on making close friendships, and perhaps I depended on them a little too much and I eventually jumped around between  relationships and just casual sex in an attempt to feel love. Guess what, it doesn’t work. You end up just feeling more empty and out of balance. It takes a long time to get to understand that there is no substitute for going though REAL emotion and to allow ourselves to feel something in our hearts.

My mother is going to be coming with me on the trip to Spain. Originally, when I asked her to go with me, I was using her as a crutch. I have done this my whole life. If I was scared to ask someone a question, when I was little, my mother would always do it for me, she would be my voice and bail me out. I’m afraid I will let her do that now. I was about to decide not to go on the trip and she said she would go. Now, I have spent 10 weeks in a class with other students who will be going by themselves and I am feeling more confident about going and I no longer feel like I need the crutch. Ina way, I feel left out and jealous of my classmates. This is a new feeling for me, I feel like I could do this on my own. I want to have the experience of being alone. It is a too late, plans have been made and tickets purchased so I needed to find away to talk to my mom.

We did a test walk this weekend. 20 miles from Tacoma to Gig Harbor. Over the Narrows Bridge to a hotel and then back the next day to get an idea of what living out of our packs would be like, and, what 10 miles in one day and 10 the next would feel like. I don’t want to focus too much on the physical aspect of this walk for this blog so I will sum it up right now..it fucking sucked. Feet hurt, legs hurt and I am sore today as well. Just some hot spots on the feet, no blisters!  (knock on wood)

I want to focus on the emotional aspect of walking with my mother. I don’t think we were quite at 1 mile and I decided that I needed to broach the subject of having alone time on the Camino and the rest of our travels. That is when everything went downhill. Her response was, “I’ll walk ahead and you can just fall back. I have my headphones on so you won’t have to talk to me at all”. This is not the point. To be alone is to be vulnerable. To know that when you reach the next stop that there is nobody to greet you and you are on your own. To stand independently and only rely on yourself. I want to feel this I crave this. Yes, I should have thought about this before I asked her to join me, but I was afraid then, sure, I have fear now, I am ready to face it and I didn’t know that she was going to piss me off so much! The argument progressed to her calling me some choice words and expressing her own fears about being in a foreign country and that something would happen to her. Valid fears, she is 68 years old and a cancer survivor. I mean, gotta give the lady some props, right? Definitely a strong chick. But, it does not change the fact that I took a chance and asked for what I needed from her. What are we supposed to do when we put ourselves out there to ask for what we need and the other person does not respond positively and cannot respect our space or what we need?

I don’t want to ditch her, I want to be trustworthy, but she brings out that rebellious 14 year old teenager. Maybe that is the problem, our re
lationship is stuck in the late 80’s. I have never been able to resolve my feelings of abandonment and she is unwilling or unable to to see me as a grown woman.

The rest of the trip was very uncomfortable for me and I am sure for her as well. I told her that I can walk on my own. She would walk ahead but every now and then I would see her stop to look behind her. Why did that piss me off so much? It was like that feeling of being on a hike with standard size people who are just trucking their way up the hill,  they stop, turn around and look at you…buzz kill. “Just keep going! I know where I am going” I thought. “I don’t need you to wait for me”. The rest of the trip we were cordial, but I could feel the tension and I am sure the silence could be heard around the world. When you have been through as much shit as we have, I am able to move past it, in the moment, but now I am in fear that my trip will be all about having to stay with her and I will resent her for the rest of my life. I did not intend on this being a bonding experience for us, that is not what this trip is about for me and I fear that this was a small bit of her hope or expectation.

That evening, my husband and son met us at the hotel and we went out for really good Mexican food in Gig Harbor. It was called Blue Agave Mexican Grill and Tequila Bar. Muy delicioso! I had a wonderful dinner and washed it down with two agave margaritas on the rocks. Sooooo good and really hit the spot. I could sense my reason flying out the door. It had been a stressful day and at that point I didn’t care anymore. I was so out of balance and my body was following suit, just as it normally does. I did just walk 10 miles so I was fine with drinking it, but wonder if I would have made that choice had it not been such a stressful day.

She had threatened to cancel her tickets at one point and I was fine with that. She changed her mind and perhaps that is a good thing. I don’t know if our issues will ever be resolved, but I know that by going through these moments of stress and examining myself through these issues, that I am learning more about the baggage I carry and how I overload myself.

Cheers!

What a great day for a hike in the PNW! My friend Tory and I had decided awhile back that we wanted to do a hike together, but where? She had heard about this wonderful hike with a fabulous view. I was game…but how hard was it going to be Tory? “I don’t think its bad. I have some friends that have done it.” she said. That sounded convincing enough for me, it doesn’t really take very much most days, especially if it means I get to spend time with a good friend. Tory and I had have known each other for about a year and we haven’t spent a lot of time outside of work. We did one other group hike together before this one. She is about 15 years younger than me but we seem to have a connection, which is nice. I am realizing that throughout my life I have mostly had older friends and now that I am older I am having younger friends. Funny how that works.

I woke up pretty early as I had about a 2 hour drive ahead of me and we needed to get on that trail early so as to not be stuck at the top in the dark. I live in the south sound and she was way up North. This was fine since Oyster Dome is up near Bellingham. I decided that I would make a day of it, get out of the house, get some fresh air and just have a nice relaxing day out on the coast. (Do you sense the build up here?) As per usual I was running late. I just didn’t want to get out of bed, I had my mattress warmer on and I was snuggling with my Corgi, Sam. Who would want to escape that bliss? Well, I did not want to let Tory down, so I got up. This was usually the case with me. I am motivated by other people. If somebody is counting on me I will do whatever I can to ensure that I do not disappoint them. Now if only I could figure out how to do that for myself.

I took my sweet time getting dressed and packing up supplies into my backpack. I was carrying my REI Trail 40 for this trip. I really needed to get used to it before the big Camino trip in March. I wonder if it is something inherent in overloaded people. Being unorganized or unmotivated. This is just something I wonder about sometimes especially when I am running late and running around the house trying to get out the door. Perhaps it is just me. I know plenty of overloaded people who are very successful and seem to “have their shit together”. I myself am extremely unorganized and messy. It has always been the case. I remember my mother going through our rooms as kids and she would just bag everything up in garbage bags because I would refuse to clean my room. I mean, I knew where everything was, what’s the big deal?  I always tell myself that I will do better, but it never happens. The same is true for when I decide that I want to lose weight. I get on a great plan, start and it slowly fades away after a week or two.  What is it? What is the secret to the success of highly organized people? People who could just hop out of bed, have everything laid out from the night before, coffee is made, breakfast perfect and out the door right on time. I finally had everything together. I packed myself a great snack/lunch of cheeses and meats and nuts. I filled my water bottles and had all my first aid gear that I needed. Finally, out the door into the car. I decided not to text Tory yet, I would try to make some progress first. When not more than a minute passes and here comes the trumpet of my “Sherwood Forest” themed texts. I look down and it is Tory. “How’s Traffic?” I was so afraid of disappointing her, “Okay, Don’t kill me. I just left.” I said. She responds with “That’s perfect! I am running late too. Text me when you are close”. Ahhh, a kindred spirit. I love it when that happens.

I had to stop by Starbucks before I could pick her up, I mean triple espresso before taking a long hike was almost mandatory. However, something to always think about is the timing of your coffee and whether or not there are “facilities” on the trail. You don’t need your coffee kicking in on a busy trail with no outhouse or accommodating bush. I got my latte and went to the park and ride to meet her. I look at my texts, “I’ll meet you at the Starbucks.” Arggg, I’m at the park and ride! Okay, so I drive back over to the Starbucks and pick her up. We have about an hour drive to the Dome. This is that moment in the car when it can be really awkward silence or stimulating bustling conversation. Tory is a talker, I love it! She is telling me stories from work and we bitch about people, procedures and system issues. It is nice having a friend that you work with but sometimes you just want to leave that crap in the cubicle. I typically give myself a rule of 5 minutes of talking shop and then on to more important matters. Tory was in the military and for such a young age, is very mature and experienced. I think the military must do that to you. She is also overloaded but not nearly as much as me. I am reminded while she talks, about how not everybody has to be 100 lbs overloaded to feel exactly like me. We all have extra baggage and it is not fair to judge a persons experience in comparison to myself.

We start getting closer to Oyster Dome and we are seeing the mounds, speculating about which one we are going to be climbing. We finally found a place to park and perched my little Kia Soul on the edge of a cliff about 300 feet above sea level. There were already LOTS of cars. Oh great! That meant lots of people. Typically when I hike I try to avoid people as much as possible. Not just because I do not want to compare myself to others but because people are annoying. They make noise, are annoying and well are generally just annoying. This is proven time and time again to Tory and I along the trail. We had to walk a little bit to get to the trail head. We got there, stared up and just both let out a “Well, Shit”. It was steep, not just a gradual climb, but fucking steep. How was I going to do this. I knew we had about 3.5 miles to climb. I believe Washington Trails Assoc. says it is a 1900′ elevation gain. I didn’t even know what that looked like. What does that mean? I knew at that moment I was going to hurt, I would feel pain and I was going to have to push myself.

We started walking, taking pictures, drinking water. We just kept walking. We told each other we would just stop when we needed to and not worry about it. Then it happened, the first person passed us. It was fine, they were young, in shape, just out for a leisurely stroll. Then two older gentleman, older than me by far probably in their 60’s, passed us. Then it just became kinda a running joke. A family with their dog, a pack of about 20 college students, a guy running up the hill. You name it, one after one people just were passing us left and right. We started being ninja and taking pictures of every person as they passed us. We got them as they were walking away from us. We would act like we were taking selfies when in actuality we were creating a collection of peoples asses. These people were quick! I could see from my GPS we were averaging about 1 mile per hour. 1 measly mile per hour! I felt like I was really pushing myself too, like we were making some good time. I think it was all the stopping. Each switchback we would take a break. I finally would tell Tory, “Lets get up at least 4 switchbacks before we take a break, okay?” she complied. Perhaps she sense my need to get to the top and my slightly competitive nature. I just hated that we were getting passed, BY EVERYONE!

So I said people were annoying, right? Some of the young people passing us were playing loud music. Why would you come out to the woods to just listen to loud music and why on earth do you think everybody else wants to listen to it as well. It is completely selfish and entitled thinking. It just pissed me off and I just did not feel like I could say anything. This was a lesson in tolerance. Though I got confirmation when I glanced at a guy heading up one of the switchbacks roll his eyes. See! It wasn’t just me, I was not crazy! I told myself that it would pass, they were not going to effect my experience, only it did. Every so often, here would be someone else doing something stupid. They would take shortcuts by heading up off the trail. The sign at the beginning specifically said to stay on the trail as to keep erosion under control. The mom in me kept asking why they were not taught better manners. What was going through their mind that they were so ignorant of there being anyone else out here with them and that their actions were perfectly okay?  Why was this making me so angry? Why was I feeling like I needed to play park ranger? I kept saying to Tory that if we ever go there again we will pick a weekday so that there are less kids. When did I become such a  crotchety old lady? Though, I never did shit like these kids were doing. I kept my irresponsible nature to the confines of my home.  I always had a healthy respect for nature and respected others around me. My parents taught me that.

We new we were getting closer, people that had passed us were starting to pass us coming down. If that doesn’t bring you down just a little bit more. Then they said it, I was waiting. Somebody always says it to me. “Your almost there! you can do it!” WTF!? Do you say that to everyone? Or is it just the fat, overloaded red faced, huffing and puffin lady? This is definitely not the first time this has happened. It is actually a common occurrence. It is so humiliating. Yes sir, I know I can do it, that is why I am out here you fucking moron! I was in an REI not too long ago. I had walked from campus to get in some training and purchase some things I needed for the trip. I came to the line and there was a guy over to the side. I know I did not look fabulous or anything, I was sweaty and red in the face I am sure. I asked him, “Are you in line?” He looked me up and down, nice, real subtle dude. “Yes, I am” he replied. “Are you in a hurry” he added. I said, “No not at all, I walked here so I have all the time in the world. Bus doesn’t come for a bit” I think I wanted to justify my disheveled appearance. His reply to that was, “ahhh, you could walk back, I bet you could do it”. Really? I could? Wow, I am so glad that you gave me that confidence boost! What a cheerleader! I paused…”Yeah, of course I can.” He shut up.

I have accomplished lots of physical endeavors at my overloaded size and every time, somebody is a cheerleader. Now, I know, I am sure standard folks get cheered on too, but in my experience, it seems that I get the brunt of it most of the time. Encouragement is great, do not get me wrong, but be consistent with it and don’t be demeaning about it. It comes off as judgement. I know that people mean well but I think part of me just wants to feel like I am just like everyone else, because I am. I just have a larger pack than some people. I remember when I was running the Rock-n-Roll Half Marathon a few years ago, there was lots of cheering for people. I watched, I paid attention and I noticed that when I passed they actually said things like, “your doing great” “you got this”. But they did not say it to my skinny running mates. I know this comes off as highly defensive, but this is my experience, and I am sure others experience it too. I just want to bring awareness to how this can make Overloaded people feel.

Anyways, back on track. We finally reached the top. It was freezing and I was so glad I had brought extra clothes like my mommy taught me to do. I changed and sat down to look at the glorious view from 2100 feet! I avoided the edge as much as possible. Some people would venture right out to it for pictures and I just think they are nuts. One false step and down the mountain they go like a little slinky meandering its way down a flight of stairs. Probably would not be that graceful. More like a AHHHHHHHHHHHH,, thump……thump, thump….thump thump,thump…..SPLAT. I have to give them kudos though, that is certainly not for me. I wanted to reach out and grab Cory every time she got close. She has definitely got some balls. We stayed up there a little longer, taking in the glory of the world and trying to give our legs a break, but they were starting to sieze, we knew we better get going. This part would be easy, its all downhill. Big misconception! Downhill is not as challenging on the lungs,  but it hurts your body, big time! You are constantly pushing against your knees and legs in order to keep yourself from just running down the hill. I had trekking poles which help but they did not keep me from aggravating an old calf injury I had from a 5k i did about 4 years ago. Of course, I did not feel it while we were walking. After awhile my toes were hurting from pushing against my shoe and my muscles were getting tired.

That last mile was so long..it seemed to take forever to get to the car. It was about 4pm and people were still heading up the hill. Fuck you! There going to be walking back in the dark. There is no way someone is able to walk up that in an hour, or maybe they can. I imagine what I could do if my pack was 100lbs lighter. How that would feel. We finally got to the car and their was not a whole lot of talking going on. Just grunting and groaning and trying to get our packs off and into the car with as little pain as possible. I started the car and we were off, back to civilization and a hot shower. I was hungry and I knew that now I would have to fight my cravings. Every time I do something really active I want to just eat. I justify a bad meal because I just worked so hard. I think my body works against me. I resisted the urge. Mostly because I was so damn tired.

I woke up the next day……SHIT! Ouch, ouch, ouch….its okay..I pushed myself and I will only get better and stronger.