On Wild

I read a lot of books, but rarely is there one that makes me want to talk about it to all my friends and family.  When a friend recommended "Wild", by Cheryl Strayed, I thought it sounded interesting but didn't think it would keep me awake reading until 2am.  But it did.  It tells the true story of a young woman who basically lost everything in her life:  her mother, her marriage, her money, her family.  She was at the bottom.  So she decided to spend her summer hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, a wilderness trail that runs from Mexico to Canada, all along the mountains in California, Oregon, and Washington.  She started her journey with very little preparation.  She hadn't really trained, or researched much, or even broken in her hiking boots!  Along the way, she learned a lot about herself and what life was about.

I have believed for some time that every person...especially every young woman...needs at the very least a weekend to go somewhere all by herself and figure out the world on her own.  In Australia, they call it a Walkabout, and I think it's a good idea. 

I got married when I was not quite 20, so I moved from my parents' house into my husband's apartment without really ever experiencing much life on my own.  By the time I was 30, I had three children and a mortgage and while I didn't feel trapped exactly, I did feel like my life no longer belonged to me, and maybe it never really had. 

When my husband D. went to the Middle East for his first year-long deployment, I left my 10-year-old, 6-year-old, and 2-year-old in the care of my mom and dad for a week while I visited my oldest sister in Europe.  I took a flight from my city to London all by myself, took the train to the correct stop all by myself, and met my sister in a train station halfway across the world.  It was scary, and wonderful.  We spent a couple of days, including my 32nd birthday, in London before missing our flight, then catching a different flight to my sister's home in Spain.  We spent a few days there, seeing amazing things that I never thought I would get to see.  Then I went through customs--in Spanish!!--by myself, flew back to London, and spent a day and a half in London all by myself before flying home.  While I was in London all alone, I just kept thinking about how I didn't know anyone else in the whole country.  It was just me...I had nobody else to count on.  I took a taxi to Harrod's and shopped a bit, picking up garlic naan and Spanish olives for my dinner, which I took back to the park near my hotel and ate while watching the ducks on the pond.  For the first time maybe ever I was all on my own.  It felt amazing, and it was life-changing, really, to know that I could do that and be okay. That I could think my own thoughts and make my own decisions and just be me, all by myself, and it was fine. 

That trip inspired another trip during D.'s second deployment to Middle East.  My kids were all at summer camp for the week, so I flew to New York City all by myself and spent four days endlessly walking the streets and seeing Broadway shows and shopping and eating amazing food.  People thought I was crazy at the time, for doing it alone, but I loved it, and it's one of the things I'm most proud of now.  It's okay to be by myself.  It's okay to spend time doing things I want to do, all by myself.  I love my friends.  I love my family.  And I do a lot of things with them.  But it's also okay if I go to a movie or a restaurant or New York City by myself.  I know myself better now than I ever did, and I feel strong, and brave, and able to conquer anything.

I'm sure that's how Cheryl Strayed felt, too, after she hiked for months all by herself and lived to write the book about it.  Like she could face the world, no matter what.  "If I can do this, I can do anything!"