Hi all! 

 It's been a while since I've written but here we are! Tomorrow marks three months here in Kotzebue so I thought I'd pause and reflect on how things have been and how I've been feeling. 

   Homesickness and loneliness have kind of been the name of the game for the last few weeks. I've done an okay job of meeting people here and getting to know my coworkers and stuff but I still just miss my friends in STL. I'm actually tentatively planning a trip there in the spring. I just really want to see everyone. 

  I've taken a couple of trips to Anchorage over the last month. One of those was very fun and one was not so fun. The first trip was the not so fun one. My flight was cancelled and then once I got there I missed my train so all in all it was kind of a waste of money and a long weekend. I was pretty disappointed about it. The one good thing that came of it is that I finally have a fully functioning phone instead of two half functioning phones. That was and remains pretty exciting. I feel so much more connected to people being able to text throughout the day and send pictures and stuff. 

  My second trip to Anchorage was just last weekend and it was awesome. I decided to go for the Women's March on Oct 2 to protect abortion rights. I was texting with a friend about it and she offered to come up and meet me in Anchorage and spend the weekend together which was very, very thoughtful of her. So that's what we did, and we had a great time! Here are some pictures: 

   

  Anchorage is really, really beautiful. It's an awesome city to visit. My mom and I are planning a trip there for late February which I am super excited about. I've never been on a winter vacation before so it will be different but I am really excited. I mostly have the whole trip planned out and I found some really awesome stuff for us to do, I'll keep you guys posted on that as it gets closer. 

  Things with work continue to go well. All of the sudden I have a lot of kids on my caseload which is a little different for me. I like it though, they usually take really well to the art making and that's my favorite kind of work so no complaints from me. I do have a decent amount of adults so it all balances out nicely. I do miss the intensity of seeing people more than once per week, I'm still adjusting to this outpatient lifestyle. 

  Even though it feels like winter to me fall is definitely here. Temps are in the 30s which is not terrible but sometimes the "feels like" is as low as 14 which IS terrible. I know, I know I'm in for a rude awakening. In the actual winter it gets down to as low as -60. So yea, not looking forward to walking to work in that. Before it got cold I was feeling prepared for winter and now I'm not so sure. 

  Still no bear sightings but I have seen some seals as well as a couple of cute foxes. I am happy about not seeing any bears, it's actually become my biggest fear. The foxes are fun to watch, they are a very curious and playful. I had no idea. 

 Well friends that's about all I have for you. The next big thing I have coming up is going home to Atlanta for the holidays which I am really looking forward to. I miss everyone and everything so much more than I thought I would. I really wish there was time on that trip to stop in STL but I just don't know how realistic that is. 

 My birthday is at the end of this month. I plan to go to the hotel here (the only place you can have a sit down meal) and order a fancy dinner. My work gave me an amazon gift card for my bday so I'm also going to order myself a wood burner and all the associated tools. I've decided to make wood burning one of my winter hobbies. My other winter hobbies are reading, needle felting, book club, and reading tarot cards. :) 

  Hope you all are staying safe and doing well! I miss you! 

Veronica 

   

  

 

Hi everyone! As always I hope this post finds you doing well! 

  It has been a rough couple of weeks around here for me. For whatever reason I've just been really homesick. I don't even know where home is but I know that I miss it. And I know that this new place doesn't feel like home yet. I suppose for it to feel like home at this point is a bit too much to ask since it's only been 7 weeks. It definitely feels longer than that but objectively I know 7 weeks is not a lot of time. 

  Anyway, today I got to do something really fun which was go blue berry picking up on the tundra. Berry picking has been going on for thousands of years around here and the natives are total pros. They're also pros at making things from the berries. 

 Of course I took some pictures so I could show everyone. 

Above is the tundra and this is where all the berries grow. Currently it's blueberry season. It's very expansive and very serene. You do have to look out for bears though so it's hard to get into a meditative head space but it is beautiful. 

    This is another pic of the tundra but it's a little closer view of the ground and vegetation. One of the tricky things about the tundra is that the ground is very soft. It's kind of like walking in wet sand, if you stand in any one place for too long you'll start to sink and each step you take you are definitely sinking into the ground. It's very uneven and easy to roll your ankle or lose your balance. 

    They don't call it "foraging for berries" for nothing. The berries surprisingly blend very well with the surrounding vegetation and you have to get real low to the ground to see them or find them. (I found this stressful as I have a real fear of bears). Anyway, the benefit to being so close to the ground is that you can smell the wonderful tundra smell. I know that sounds nuts but it's honestly the best. It's sweet but also earthy smelling. It's the best. 

   One of my coworkers told me he'd never seen anyone with matching jacket and boots. I told him I was happy to be that person for him :) 

Above & below are some berries before I picked them!

 They are smaller compared to the store bought berries but they taste so much better! 

Another pic of the tundra and the nearby lake! 

I did pretty okay for it being my second time! Here's my yield: 

 Here they are all washed and leaf and twig free ready for me to make muffins!

This is what washing berries does to your hands: 

All in all it was a great experience and I had a great time. It definitely repaired my first experience berry picking which was a low-key disaster. It was super hot out, I was wearing the wrong clothes and shoes, I didn't find any berries (I didn't look that hard to be honest), and I threw up when I got home because I drank too much water too quickly because it was so hot. 

Tonight I am trying to stay up late because supposedly if I do I will see the northern lights!!! Ahhh!!! I'm SO excited! 

Hope everyone has a great weekend! 

Veronica 

 

    Hi, everyone!!! 

   I hope you everyone is doing well! I decided to write a post sharing a little bit more about my work because I haven't really talked about work very much on here. It's one of the bigger reasons I moved here to so I figured it's time to include it! 

   I work as an art therapist for a counseling center affiliated with the local hospital here in town. It's essentially a community mental health setting which is very different than what I was doing before (residential and PHP care for eating disorders). The clinic I work for also does outpatient substance use and IOP substance use care, although I don't work on the substance use team. I have dreams of starting an art therapy group for the substance use IOP once all the groups are back in person though! I think that would be really fun!

   So my job title is "Itinerant Therapist" and I got to do the "itinerant" part of that last week when I traveled out to one of the villages in our service area via bush plane. Our service area is about the size of the state of Illinois and includes 12 villages that are only accessible by bush plane. When a village has a tough week or crisis/tragedy strikes some of the therapists will travel out to the village to provide support and psychological first aid to the community. So that's what I did last week for the first time. I didn't say too much about during that post but it was an awesome experience. After the trip I was having all of these feelings that all of that schooling and hard work I did was totally worth it for moments like talking with the community members. It was an awesome feeling.  It just brought me back to why I wanted to be a therapist to begin with. And, I got to be traveling on my dad's birthday which if you know me you know is something I always try to do to honor his memory and our relationship. 

  On Friday I moved into a new office! There are multiple good things about my new space, one is that I have a closet which is perfect for storing all my art supplies. The second thing, and probably my favorite, drumroll please, is that I have a window with a view of the sea! Yay! 

       On the really clear days (not what we've been having lately) you can see the mountains across the sea. You can kind of see them in the pic above but on the clear days you can really see them, like this: (The quality of this pic isn't great but you get the idea) 

   Anyways, life in Alaska is pretty good. The homesickness has subsided, I'm learning to live with the midnight sun (helped tremendously by black out curtains lol), and now my focus is just on my building a life here and making new friends. Not easy during a pandemic but my coworkers are great. 

Until next time! 

  Veronica 

 

     

  

 hey everyone, 

 So the other day I took my first work trip! I have been looking forward to riding in a bush plane and it was awesome! 

Here's the plane we took, it seats around 7 people. I think it can seat more if needed but they tend to move the seats around to make room for all of the cargo. I'll be honest, I was a little nervous about being in such a small plane but the views were so amazing that I pretty quickly forgot all about it. 

Here's the inside of the plane! The inside has one longer row of seats and a shorter row. Behind the shortest row is where they put boxes of mail and other things that are being delivered to the village. 

The flight was only about half an hour and as I mentioned already it was beautiful! 

The village that we were visiting was very quaint and sweet. It was inland from Kotzebue so a little bit chillier than I was expecting but nothing too cold. The village is located just off of a river and so it's very marshy. I'm guessing that's why the whole town is basically on stilts. There aren't roadways through the town, there's this boardwalk-y type path that goes all over. It looks like this: 

There aren't any cars either, just boats and 4-wheelers! Once we got there we met the clinic staff and put all of your stuff away and then we headed out to meet the villagers! "Eskimo" is considered an offensive term. I call them people in the villages, natives, or native alaskans. 

All in all it was an awesome trip. I traveled with one of my co-workers and I really enjoyed getting to know her. I felt like we made a good team too. She was really great at engaging people and initiating conversation which is something I feel like I'm not so good at. I can't wait for the next one! 

 

Hello, everyone! 

     I'll start by saying that I don't feel like I have that much to say. The last week has been sort of difficult, I've been homesick and work just isn't taking off yet so it's been a little harder of a week. I'm writing anyway because I don't want anyone to be under the illusion that this move is all bunnies and rainbows all the time. (Although one could argue it IS rainbows all the time since the sun never sets). Traveling and moving isn't all glamorous all the time, even though it's sort of vulnerable to admit when it's hard. 

   The last couple of days have been rather eventful around here (relatively, anyway). I got internet at home (yay!) and my groceries that I ordered online got delivered. Getting internet was a bit of a process. I guess some wiring needed to be done so it took several days but on Thursday I got a call that my modem was ready to pick up. When I went to pick it up on Friday the lady (who was very nice) hands me this:

Just like that, not in a box or with a bag or any instructions or anything. Just a piece of equipment with a sticky note with my name on it. Internally I was like "so, this is the internet?" But I didn't say anything, I just thanked her and walked back to work. My expectations were extremely low but I got home and plugged it in and what do you know, it works! I feel a lot better having internet at home because now I can use my phone, watch Netflix, and stay more connected to you lovely people. 

I picked up my groceries from the airport this afternoon! Including all the miscellaneous fees from the store, the groceries themselves, and the charges from the airline it came to about $200. If I had grocery shopped at the AC (local grocery store) it would have been around $325 or so for everything that I got so fees and all I came out ahead. I think ordering this way is going to be part of my system. The only issue is fitting all of that food into my mini-fridge in my apartment. When I have a non-mini fridge and freezer and I can stock up even more and stretch my dollars when it comes to all the fees. 

    I was FaceTiming with a friend earlier and we came to the conclusion today that I need blackout curtains. I have a little lavender scented eye pillow I've been covering my eyes with to sleep but I get hot and then I toss it off or I roll over and it falls off and then the sun wakes me up and then I'm not getting good sleep which makes me grumpy when I wake up. Black out curtains it is! I had no idea how much my body needs for it to be dark outside to go to bed. It's been a challenge for sure! I feel like a toddler trying to go to bed every night, I just keep arguing with myself that it isn't bedtime because it is still light out. It is getting darker between like 2am and 4am so that's a start. 

    

  Here's a mandala I made to reflect on two weeks of being here. My therapist told me to make more art (typical) and I knew I needed to reflect on my time here in order to move through these feelings so there you go. I did it. The stars represent the Alaska state flag. I think the part I am the most curious about is the bubbles in the top left, those are interesting to me. 

  

Even though my little apartment is quite messy that's just how it is so here are some pictures. It won't ever not be this way so I decided to go ahead and share. The only thing not pictures is the closet which to floor-to-ceiling boxes so I'll let you use your imagination on that one lol. 

  

    

    

    The last thing that I have to share is that it's difficult not to have a car. I'm not really a fan of walking everywhere although it is kind of empowering to be that self-sufficient. Mostly it's hard not to have a car because I feel so stuck here on this little almost-island. To the point that I'm feeling kind of claustrophobic-ish? It's just that no matter where I've lived before I could technically get in a car and go home, even most of the places I've traveled. It might take forever, but it's possible. I'm so far away from home here, and the only way out is to fly. I'm surprised by how much this bothers me but it is on my mind quite a lot. To help cope with this, and for other reasons, I'm spending Labor Day weekend in Anchorage. I'm really excited! Just from the airport it looks absolutely stunning so I'm really excited to visit and actually get to spend some time there. Plus I need a new phone so there's that too haha. 

  I hope you all have a lovely rest of your weekend! 

Veronica 

 

Hello from Alaska, everyone!

 

So, where to start?! My journey to Alaska started in Atlanta where I’d been for a few weeks hanging out with friends and family in the area. Friday night I flew to Seattle and then Saturday morning I flew through Anchorage (pictured below) and to Kotzebue. It was a very early morning and I landed in Kotzebue around lunchtime. My flights were fine, long but uneventful. I’ve been here almost a week and it feels like people want an update so here we go!

            Two sweet co-workers met at me at the airport and helped get me settled that afternoon. We grabbed the boxes I had shipped and got them over to my temporary apartment and they took me to the grocery store. Y’all, rural Alaska grocery prices are no joke, more about that later. My apartment is a cute little mini-studio with a washer and dryer. Currently my boxes are occupying the space that’s supposed to be the closet. It’s temporary because I am waiting for a one bedroom to become available!

 

Alright so here are the things that surprised me the most:

#1 No cell reception
That’s right, my phone doesn’t work. It works in Anchorage but not out here. Fortunately one of my co-workers is letting me borrow and old phone of his. I bought a sim card for it so I currently have my Alaska phone and my iPhone, which I can only use when connected to wifi. I thought the wifi was more widely available but it is not! Anyway, I’m not sure that two phones is my permanent solution but it’s working for now.

 

#2 The heat  

When you move to a place above the Arctic Circle you kind of expect to never be hot again. WRONG. When the sun is out it is HOT. And unless it’s cloudy, the sun is out all the time. You’ve heard that Alaska is the land of the midnight sun, right? It’s true. The sun does not set here for a few months. It doesn’t even get that dark. 2am looks like 2pm, it’s pretty trippy. It’s significantly cooler in the shade (which there is very little of because there are not trees) or otherwise outside of the sun but if the sun is out it is quite warm during these summer months. Obviously that will change as the seasons wear on.

 

#3 The mosquitos

They are huge! One of my co-workers who is from Alabama refers to them as “dragons” and I totally get why. The things are huge and hungry. If it’s warm out you can expect to be swarmed. They bite through your clothes and appear unaffected by repellent as far as I can tell. Being from the south I thought I’d seen it all in terms of mosquitos but that was not true at all. (Hopefully I have now, I can’t imagine it getting worse than this).

 

            Other notable things that I did this week are get a PO Box here in Kotz, submit an application to get internet at home, and figure out how to order groceries online. I’ll have to do a grocery haul for you guys but the groceries here are at best double if not triple normal prices. In the lower 48 I exclusively shop for groceries at Aldi so you can imagine my sticker shock at the prices here. For me it’s just not tenable so I needed to figure out an alternative solution. A co-worker told me about doing a bush order from a store called Fred Meyer. Apparently Mr. Meyer will deliver groceries to the airport via bush plane from Anchorage, even perishables. Even with the taxes and associated fees it’s still less expensive than shopping at the AC (local grocery store) so I’m in. I submitted my first order via email last night. I don’t think I can describe just how strange it was to grocery shop this way!

 

            Work has been pretty boring to be honest. It won’t always be this way, it’s just that the first while is a lot of onboarding and boring HR stuff. Things will pick up once I start working with clients, which I am really excited for. I talked this week with a supervisor and we discussed what my interests are clinically and what kind of clients I work best with, etc. It was a good conversation and I’m excited to get started!

 

            The first few days of being here felt more like a trip than anything else, just like a temporary thing where I’d eventually return to my apartment in St. Louis.  Around day 3-4 is when I started getting what I can only describe as homesick. That’s also when the midnight sun started interrupting my sleep. It wasn’t homesickness in the nostalgic, longing for home kind of way. It was more that the reality of just how far away I was from home was setting in, as was the decision to move here. I a little bit went down the road of “what have I done?” but I figured I was only feeling that way because I felt so disconnected from the world without my phone. I made a few phone calls and within a few hours I was feeling much better. I’ve noticed I’m the loneliest after work, around 6pm Alaska time which is 10pm on the east coast and 9pm for St. Louis so it’s on the later side which is a little difficult. My pillows arrived today and they smell like home, wherever that is. 

 

            The week has had its highs and lows but overall has been fine. It’s nice to live close to the water. I always wanted to live by the ocean. To be fair I never thought it would be in the Arctic but never say never J Below are some pictures of sea and the little lagoon by my building. Enjoy! 

Until next time everyone, 

Veronica <3 

 

 

Friends and family, 

     Many of you know this already but just in case- I have accepted a position as an itinerant therapist for a hospital in a small town in north western Alaska, just north of the arctic circle!   The job is working with native Alaskans that are scattered in the north west arctic borough. I leave on Friday (9 July). I've spent the last 8 or so weeks saying "good-bye" and "see you soon" to the people in my life and one thing that comes up every time is that I should start a blog and document my experiences. So, here we are. Fortunately I love to write and was likely to blog some of it anyway so now I'm just making a firmer commitment to blogging. 

   For this first post, while I am still in the lower 48, I thought I'd answer all the questions I've gotten several times as well as just share a little bit about how I'm feeling about the transition. I've organized this is in a FAQ format for convenience :) 

How did you even find this job? 

A friend at work had family who had worked for Indian Health Services (IHS) and worked on reservations before so when I decided to cast a wider net in terms of my job search I thought it would be cool to live and work on a reservation. I started looking for jobs through IHS and that's how I found this one. I applied on a whim, I was so used to being rejected at that point that I truly did not think I'd get interviewed or even called. Immediately I started researching Alaska, the organization, and the town. Honestly it just seemed like an adventure, and I am so down for that after being grounded for so long due to the pandemic. So that's how it all started. At some point I obviously made a choice to pursue this opportunity and a choice to move. I spent a lot of time talking to friends and the people close to me about the pros and cons. At the end of the day the pros outweighed the cons. 

How are you feeling about leaving?

  I leave on Friday and I am feeling pretty good. The anxiety is present but comes in a waves. A few days ago I was in this "what have I done?" place but the last couple days I'm just getting excited. It's all very surreal, I don't think I have any clue how much my life is about to change. I am excited though, and as ready as I think I'll be. Honestly the "see you soon's" are starting to get to me. It's emotionally exhausting to process and transition and/or terminate all of my relationships. I'm a sentimental person and I feel my feelings big so all of the goodbyes and starting to wear me down. It's just a lot of feelings all of the time. 

Won't you be cold? I thought you hated the cold? 

Yes, I will very likely be cold. And yes, that's not my favorite thing. The weather on the arctic circle is obviously extremely cold in the winters with very mild summers and lots of snow. It's not my ideal climate by a long shot. I had to really think about this and I just decided that rejecting this job because of the weather conditions sounded really stupid. To me that is just a silly reason not to do something. As I've gotten older I've appreciated the cold more and the heat less so at least there's that. I just figure people live this way their whole lives, it can't be impossible. I've been doing a lot of shopping and gathering my gear to get through my first winter. 

    Well, I think that's about it for this first post. Feel free to comment if you have any questions you want answered either now or in a future post! 

Love to you all! 

   Veronica 

     I felt my chest tighten slightly as I mentally panicked. Should I post something? Should I write something? What if I do it tomorrow?  For whatever reason, the significance of entering a new decade was completely lost on me until fourteen minutes to midnight and it felt like if I didn't seize the opportunity to reflect right then it would be lost forever. Not true, I know. So here I am, jumping on the bandwagon of reflecting over the last decade and all it's held and inviting you to see it with me.

                                                                       January 2009
    "Okay, we're doing this, we're not changing our minds, okay?" My best friend said to me on the phone. "Okay." I agreed, already with some regret but knowing turning back would only make things worse. She'd be here to pick me up and give me a ride to the hospital in 30 minutes. I just couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't stand another second in my own head, couldn't stand hating myself this much. After a long evening of making one failed suicide plan after the other and engaging in them to varying degrees I was done.

   Over the next 72 hours I was shuffled through the system. I mostly slept, exhausted from hating myself and trying to function. It's not like there was much else to do in a white room with a mattress on the ground. The social worker that came in to talk to me had to bring her own chair.  I was afraid of everyone and spoke only to the people that spoke to me. The psych techs "encouraged" me to do laundry and "do my hygiene" but I was too scared to take off my clothes and I didn't want to wear hospital clothes as mine were being washed.  I can't remember who I called to pick me up when I was discharged 3 days later. What I got out of that experience, other than staying physically safe I suppose, was a new "low." The motivation of not wanting to end up back in that situation and sufficiently manage my depression pushed me to try art therapy and for the first time in years I finally had some relief.

                                                                   May 2010
    I heard the phone ring and I turned over in bed, somewhat annoyed, to see who it was. I had just settled in for a nap. When I saw who was calling all of my irritation melted because I knew it was baby time. The family that I had been nannying for was expecting baby number two, a little girl, and since we don't usually talk on the phone on Sunday afternoons I figured this was her ready to join us on this side of mom's belly. Sweet Emily would be born before midnight. A decade of Emily is something every one should get to experience. As a baby and toddler she was easygoing and smiled at everyone who made eye contact with her. One day when she was about one I was crying about something when she woke up from her nap. I picked her up out of her crib and she wrapped her little arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. This sweet little gesture is who she has always been. I'll never forget her running around the house with her Elsa cape and "Punzel" hair, singing So Long, Farewell for her so she and her sister could act out scenes from Sound of Music, or all the moments we've spent nestled next to each other reading books, watching tv, or sleeping. If I had to pick my very favorite thing to come out of this decade, it would be her.

   Just twelve days later, I would receive the news that my father unexpectedly passed away. The moment after my grandma told me I felt the everything in the world move. "Sadness" and "despair" don't even begin to describe the days that followed. I'm not sure what was worse, realizing I'd never see him again or watching my grandparents lose their son. It has only gotten harder as time as wears on. It goes without saying that "time heals all wounds" is complete malarkey. I'll never forget the time I spent with my aunt, uncle, and cousins following my Dad's death. I was more broken than I think even I knew, and something about this insulated time spent with them making arrangements and sharing meals together kept me comforted. I would later begin to describe my relationship with grief over my dad's death as "Missing you comes in waves, and tonight I'm drowning."

August 2012

     Tears welled in my eyes as I realized I was in the wrong building.  As it turns out, the first day at a new school sucks when your 5 and 22. I had finally been okay enough to not only stay enrolled in classes but earn As so I transferred from the small and safe local community college to a large, urban university. Except for that first day, I loved every second of it. Looking back, there were some of my happiest times. Not long after the tearful first day I would "move out" of my grandparents house and be responsible for paying for things like lightbulbs and dish soap for the first time.  (Although let's be honest, I would still snag extras of anything I could find from the grandparents house). I really dug in in therapy and made art endlessly. I would go to therapy twice a week for 90 minutes for years and sob, process, sit in silence, and rub oil pastels until my fingers were raw. I was so done being depressed and having events from childhood take over my life. I didn't want any of that anymore. Sometimes to the point of counter-productivity and out of hatred, I pushed myself to "get better."

Fall 2013 

  My last year in college I lived with my best friend and a third random roommate who was a really lovely person. We had a lot of fun living together. There would be multiple snow days that year and we spent all of them happily in our little apartment in the edge of the Decatur square and the Agnes Scott campus. I went to school, worked as a nanny, volunteered, and went to therapy. Life was really good, and it was also really hard. This season was marked by grief and existential though as late that summer a complete stranger would pass away in my arms. You can read all about that here if you'd like. 

    The dust from that experience hadn't even settled when I found myself tossing my grandparent's house looking the combination to the safe in the garage and a letter my grandfather had written me "in case anything happens to me." About three hours before I'd learned that he'd passed away on a cruise ship in the literal middle of the Atlantic ocean. Ever the responsible one, he'd left me instructions. I was so grief-stricken I couldn't remember where he hid the letter even though he'd specifically showed me just 10 days before. Even in his 80s after a success-filled life, his death was a tragedy for me. His biggest dream for the last several years had been for me to finish college, and I was so close. In between nights sleeping in his spot in my grandparent's bed, I spent days on end staring at a computer screen monitoring the ship and watching it get closer and closer to the port in Miami. When the little ship icon on the monitor didn't look like it was moving I would look for the letter. Their friends called and texted me endlessly until the rest of my family, who were also on the cruise, got home about a week later. I was so grief stricken that I couldn't remember where the letter was. 

      For over a year I'd been researching graduate art therapy programs and it all came to an abrupt end when my grandfather passed away. I couldn't imagine leaving my grandma, and grief had disconnected me to from creativity. I wasn't interested in making anything and I certainly wasn't interested in learning how to do that with others if it meant moving away. I packed away all of my application materials, deleted desktop icons and bookmarks and fervently deleted and tossed info programs I received via email and snail mail. At the last minute some ambiguous force compelled me to complete and submit a few applications. I would spend the next few months corresponding with schools, participating in interviews, and researching different cities. It was painful to not be able to let go of what I'd been working towards for so long. I just wanted to be able to stay in Atlanta with my grandma and forget about being an art therapist but I couldn't. Every time I thought I'd packed it away for good it came back. 

August 2015

     After 15 hours, we crossed into Missouri and by the arch via the Poplar Street Bridge. All of my possessions, you know my books and ikea furniture they live on, were in the back of a Uhaul that was pulling a trailer with my car strapped to it. Missouri was "home" now, although it wouldn't feel like that for quite a while. St. Louis was a city I had only been to one other time. I started school two weeks later. I did not let myself acknowledge it at the time, but it was difficult to move. I found a new therapist and with the help of school was able to make new friends relatively quickly. The following summer I'd leave the country for the second (maybe third?) time and journey to Kenya and Tanzania. Definitely a highlight of these years. There is something truly magical about being where I was. The scenery was beautiful, the food delicious, and the people were so very curious and caring. I knew then that traveling would always be an important part of my life. Pictures here. 

   The next two years I spent learning how to be a therapist. There were countless tears, many drawings and paintings, and a lot of joy as well. The realization that being a therapist isn't what I thought it was is something I wrestled with a lot and even though I wasn't always happy about the conclusions I came to I couldn't walk away from it either. I graduated in 2017 and began working about a month later. I was provisionally licensed within a few weeks and started taking patients soon there after. The first six months of that first full-time therapy job is not something I wish on anyone but unfortunately seems to be some strange rite of passage. The last year of school and first few of working full-time were mainly categorized by depression and intense thoughts about the trajectory of my life. No amount of sleep was ever enough, all foods tasted like cardboard, I didn't care about anything. 

January 2018

  As a coping strategy and to give myself something to look forward to, I decided to go to Peru. Shortly after that I decided to also go to Bolivia as well and check off one of my bucket list items: The Salaar de Uyuni or Salt Flats. Eight months of careful planning flew by and I spent one week in each country. It was definitely the experience of the decade and life so far. When the world feels pointless and I begin to wonder if life is just the space between crappy times and experiences I am rescued every time by the hope of wanderlust. You can read about that more specifically here. 

October 2019

   It was light blue and on heavier than computer paper but lighter than card stock. I wondered if this oddly weighted paper was prevent counterfeit but I followed that thought up with wondering who would want to counterfeit a professional counseling certificate? It's just a piece of paper but it was many, many years worth of work. I knew from before the time my friend dropped me off at the ER that I wanted to be a therapist but I was also certain that that was more out of reach that time travel. Years of therapy, under grad, grad school, two years of post-graduate supervision and literally millions of tears later, I was a fully licensed counselor. I actually thing this is my longest-standing goal. 

      2009-2019 held heartbreak, sorrow, joy, accomplishment, failure, and everything in between. Here's to hoping the next 10 are less painful but not any less thrilling. I'm prepared not to have my cake and eat it too. 

EDIT: The world has changed so much since I initially wrote this three months ago. If we've learned nothing else from the COVID-19 pandemic, please do the following: Think about everyone in your community as if they are your family member and act accordingly, since all y'all hate homeschooling so much let's finally pay teachers what they deserve, can we please raise the minimum wage to something that gets people well above the poverty line because those are the folks delivering our food, keeping hospitals clean, and stocking the TP (which reminds me, just buy this the way you normally do and then we'll all be fine), and lastly, please abandon social customs regarding asking for help and needing connection. Stay well lovely friends <3 

Peru and Bolivia 2018 

     As the one year anniversary draws near my heart can't help but reflect on this time last year.
A year ago I was preparing for a two week, solo trip to Peru and Bolivia. "Why?" Everyone asked. The only thing that has ever felt remotely okay for the anniversaries of my Dad's birth and death is to be traveling. I wanted mountains and a coast, I wanted two places, and I wanted to see the Salar de Uyuni or the salt flats in Bolivia. There were other things that made the trip feel like destiny: I would be leaving my 20s behind just a few months after the trip ended, and I was feeling so connected to the idea that the there had to be life outside of the horrendous episode of depression I'd been in for a while. I'd really like to share my trip experiences with you, reader. One year later I finally feel ready to share the magic and heartbreak that this trip was for me.

    The trip was, to date, one of the best experiences of my life. I don't say that casually, my life has held so many good moments. The trip is still easily top 3. I remember so much of it with such fondness I feel my chest ache. I made the decision to travel in January and within a few hours settled on Peru and then Peru and Bolivia. I spent the next 8 months planning. I planned incessantly, researched bus routes and hostels, backpacks, shoes, cures for altitude sickness, vetted tour companies, and read blogs. I made spreadsheets and budgets and started working an additional shift on Sundays to cover the cost. From January to August when I was feeling hopeless or lonely I planned. The trip was good for me before it ever happened.

   While I'd traveled solo many times it was always domestic, and my international travel was fun but very passive on my part. Someone else did all the planning and had all the responsibility.  I had to do a lot of work on myself to be ready for this trip. When you travel you are surrendering to the universe, you have so little control. Will the airline lose your bag? Will strangers be kind when you are lost (and you're naive if you think you won't get lost)? What if you get sick? What if you lose your passport? What if your flight gets cancelled? I had to surrender and trust that it was all going to work out. When anxiety crept in, I would say in my head "just trust it's all going to work out and let go." And so, with that in mind, and 6 pairs of leggings, 6 shirts, and a small stash of toiletries and art supplies on my back, I was off to Lima. One cancelled flight, one missed flight, and one new friend later, I arrived in Lima after midnight on a Friday night.

  For my Dad's birthday I bought a ticket to take a boat tour of the Ballesta Islands off of the coast of Paracas, Peru. I love boats, and water, and he did too. The islands were amazing and so was being on the water. I just wanted to be close to him that day. As expected, being gone on his birthday helped. I can't fully articulate my feelings on the subject yet but basically I promised him that I'd be fearless, that I'd chase my dreams with such abandonment of all inhibitions and certainty.  His birthday reminds me of this promise, and being far away at that time makes me feel like I'm living up to it.

     By the end of the day I really hit my stride as a traveler. I spoke english only to translate for those that didn't speak Spanish or to write in my journal. I engaged others in conversations and spent my time writing in my journal and drawing. No one had asked me about the current political leaders in the U.S. and I adjusted easily to the higher altitude.

   One distinct part of the trip was the 30 hour bus ride between Huacachina and Cusco. In terms of distance these cities are about half that amount time from each other, but they are separated by the Andes Mountains. So, one must go around if one is traveling by bus. Think traveling from STL to KC but not being able to drive through Missouri. Or, for my southerners, like going from Charleston to Birmingham without going through Georgia. Anyway, the bus ride was actually one of my favorite things. The seats on the bus are comfy and convert into beds that lay nearly completely flat. Of course I slept at night but during the day I listened to podcasts and looked out the window. At one moment during this, life felt perfect. All things painful and tedious were literally a continent away, and not a soul in the world knew exactly where I was. I was unfindable and thus fully connected to the present moment. And the present moment was my favorite podcasts, the most breathtakingly beautiful scenery I had ever seen, and the warmth in my chest signaling peace and elation. That moment, to me, is what I live for. Those are the moments I chase.

   The one downside to the bus ride was that barreling through the country with nothing longer than a 30 minute stop every so often was that there was almost no time to acclimate to the altitude and many people on the bus got quite sick. What had felt to me like a rowdy, enthusiastic bunch the day before was suddenly a silent, slow-moving group of people who looked like they'd just woken up from the deepest sleep of their lives.  I chewed the coca leaves I'd bought and rubbed lavender oil all over my face and hands. The taste was awful but I imagined moistened particles of the leaves absorbing into my body and for about ten minutes I had to focus fiercely on not throwing up. Fortunately the combination of coca leaves, lavender, and a real meal did the trick and I was feeling fine again within the hour. My shower and subsequent slumber in Cusco the next night were among the best of my life.

   Due to some circumstances I still don't understand, I ended up having a private driver drive me the 2 hour drive from Cusco to Ollantaytambo. Ollantaytambo is the town you need to get to in order to take the train to Machu Picchu. Unfortunately, the main route was under construction so the driver had to take back roads through some small villages. The driver, a very sweet and courteous gentleman, didn't know exactly how to get to Ollantaytambo taking the back roads so every few minutes he'd stop and converse with the locals. For the first time, I couldn't track what was being said around me. We were in a part of the country where the residents speak the indigenous language, Quechua. The driver told me about his mother and how she didn't speak Spanish, she spoke Quechua. He told me stories of how good Quechua speaking people are and that because of them we'd arrive in Ollantaytambo without any issue. And he was correct. The experience of ascending and then descending the mountain and seeing the small towns and people working and going about their daily lives was really incredible. I felt so lucky that the main road was down and that I got to see a little slice of Peru I wouldn't have otherwise. I was silently grateful to the inhabitants of the small towns  for letting me pass through. I wish I'd tried to thank them.

  Here's an excerpt from my journal "We ascended a mountain and there was Cruzpata. Then we had to descend and that was Urubamba. Then we got to Ollantaytambo and I got on the train no problem. The GPS had us arriving at 12:40. I needed to be there at 12:25 for a 12:55 departure. Again, I just had to let go. It did work out. Of course it did. The prevailing message is that it's all going to work out."

  I learned that they don't call it the "Sacred Valley" (Valle Sagrada) for nothing. It just feels magical. Maybe it's the remarkably beautiful landscape. Maybe it's the sound of the river right next to the town, or maybe it's all of the anticipation and then satisfaction of being on the way to or from Machu Picchu. Whatever it is, it's real. The town of Aguascalientes is sweet and busy. The room where I was staying was on the second story and a street view window. I opened the window and listened to the town below as I wrote in my journal and sent some pictures to friends. I had promised to check in every few days so they knew I was alive.

 When planning the trip, I initially excluded Machu Picchu. I was in it for the salt flats and had a limited amount of PTO. Logistically Machu Picchu is difficult and pricey to plan. It involves getting to a city (Cusco) deep in the mountains from which you have take a 2 hour car ride to a town where you take a 2 hour train ride to a town where you then take a 30 minute bus ride. Because of the way that the tours work, and to avoid altitude sickness, all of those things have to happen over the course of several days. And then you have to do it all again in reverse to continue to your next destination. I told one of my few friends who knew about the trip that I wasn't doing Machu Picchu and her protest was so significant that I re-worked the entire trip to fold it in (which took several weeks, by the way). On this side of the experience, I can't believe I almost didn't go. Truly, what a loss that would have been. There aren't words to describe it, there really are not. It was stunning. Every where you look it's so sensational and heavenly it's like you are dreaming. I just wanted to freeze time and hold on to those moments and that feeling forever. It was worth every moment of stress and penny four times over. The top pic is the Sacred Valley, the rest are Machu Picchu.

I returned to Cusco to the same hostel I had been before Machu Picchu. On a trip where I was sleeping somewhere different every night, coming back to somewhere familiar felt like coming home. Here's an excerpt from my journal: "I'm back at the Sunset House Hostel today. I was ready to go back to my same bunk downstairs but my past self is a genius and I apparently booked myself a private room with a bathroom and TWO towels. Genius."
     I came and went from my adjoining bathroom pooh-bearing (wearing only a shirt and no pants) all evening like a queen. This was halfway through the trip and I was so happy but so tired. I was walking so much and there was markedly less oxygen in the air which didn't make me ill anymore but did exhaust me. The next morning would be the first morning that I didn't have to be somewhere early, and my last in Peru. Feeling refreshed, I took this clean hair, clean clothes (finally did laundry), no make-up selfie after sleeping in the next day.

   My whole last day in Peru I kept internally getting pulled back to feeling so grateful for being here and sad to leave. It was bittersweet, I was sad but also ready for the next leg of the trip. I visited a cathedral that was built in the 1400s and a pre-Columbian Art Museum that was really interesting and enjoyable. I kept thinking about my compulsion to be fearless and how that would likely often include leaving things behind. The next morning I was stamped out of Peru and into Bolivia which was it's own adventure. Bolivians, fairly, are not fond of Americans. I felt grateful that they granted my visa which was not guaranteed and I had to jump through some additional hoops to make that happen. I don't blame them. I'm just glad they eventually accepted my request to enter.

  Bolivia was breathtaking. It was just so incredibly beautiful. It was also very different from Peru. The differences between Peru and Bolivia are analogous to the differences in the climate of the two countries. Peru is on the coast, much warmer, much more friendly, at ease, and inviting. Bolivia is inland and cold, even during the day. The people move with purpose and are busy and not likely to pay you any mind. In Peru people expected me to speak english, but in Bolivia no one spoke to me in english. There was an expectation that one speak Spanish despite being a native speaker or not.  Despite Bolivia having a certain chill to it socially and temperature wise, the people that I struck up conversations with were friendly and helpful. My first several hours in Bolivia were along Lake Titicaca. After a full day of hiking and boat rides I took a long bus ride to the city of La Paz and checked into my first hostel eeeearly that morning. Here are some pictures that demonstrate my earlier point of breathtaking beauty:

  I woke up later that morning rested but feeling anxious. I could hear the city hustling and bustling beneath my top bunk and it just made me want to stay inside and stay away. I had conquered Peru. I had become confident there. But this was Bolivia, and I felt small and invisible here. I wanted to go back to Peru. Slowly, like watching-ice-melt-slow, I forced myself into the city and while still feeling very timid enjoyed wandering around. I window-shopped for gifts for friends but didn't buy yet so I wouldn't have to carry everything around. I bought some snacks for the bus ride that night as well as some bacitracin and other essentials.

 That night I boarded an overnight bus to Uyuni which was about 10 hours south of La Paz. I had dinner on the bus and watched some of the movie that they were showing. I don't know the name of it but the move was about these three dudes that get separated from each other hiking back from Machu Picchu. I thought it was interesting that they were showing a movie with a terrifying plot line to a bus load of tourists. The bus pulled over right before the sun came up. Not everyone took the opportunity but I bundled up and walked outside so I could watch the sun rise. If I had to describe Bolivia in only two words one would be "beautiful" and the second would be "cold." Like below zero cold.

 

    Later that day I met my fellow Salar de Uyuni travel mates: a couple from Switzerland, and a family of three (Mom, Dad, and son) from Venice. We met our guide, loaded up our luggage and took off. The couple from Switzerland spoke German, Spanish, and English. The husband in the couple from Venice spoke Italian, very decent English, and very limited Spanish. The wife spoke Italian, almost no Spanish, and very little English. Their son spoke Italian, very good English, and limited Spanish. Our guide spoke only Spanish. Making a group decision was quite the process. It was actually really fun. I enjoyed talking to the woman from Venice. It was somewhat challenging but with my Spanish proficiency, her english proficiency, and the overlap between Spanish and Italian we were able to figure it out.

  The Salar tour was three days and two nights and the first day was my favorite. That's the salt flats day. I first learned about the salt flats years ago. I saw a picture online of the mirror-image landscape that the salar creates and was mesmerized. That's when I decided I'd go one day. When I started thinking about this trip and settled on Peru I realized Bolivia was Peru's neighbor. And in Bolivia are the salt flats. Perfect.

  So the salt flats are a giant salt desert. The ground is white (you know, like salt) and during the wet season it will rain and the water won't absorb into the ground right away, it just sits on top. The water sitting on the surface of the white salt creates a giant mirror for the sky. I wasn't counting on having the mirror experience, as that most likely happens during the wet season which was months away at the time. I got so lucky, though. Just the week before it had snowed, and over the last few days the snow had begun melting. It took a few minutes to find but eventually we found about 2 inches of water proudly sitting on the surface of the salt. I couldn't believe my luck. It's insanely beautiful. Like that existential, how-is-this-even-planet-Earth beautiful. See below. You'll be able to tell which ones are pre-water discovery and which are post. Both are so lovely.

I went a little bananas and as took my shoes and socks off to walk around barefoot. I just had to. I was just at peace. The idea of putting socks on wet feet and then having wet socks in my shoes for the rest of the day made me pause for a second but ultimately I decided it would be worth it. I regret nothing. 

Another fun thing about the Salar (as if the above isn't satisfaction enough) is that you can take cool perspective photos. Our guide was very patient and kind to take these for us!

  Soon the sun began to set which was, you guessed it, gorgeous.

     We drove another hour or so to the accommodations for the night. It was a small hotel in a rural part of the country that's only accessed for tourism and related commerce. There were other tour groups arriving around the same time we did so we had to wait a bit to get checked in. The Italian family and the Swiss couple got taken to their rooms within twenty or so minutes, and then slowly everyone else did as well. I was tired and also didn't want to rush anyone so I took a seat on the far end of the room and waited there. So much time lapsed that I started to feel like something was wrong. Not only had a lot of time passed but I also hadn't seen any of the employees or the guide for several minutes which only made me more suspicious. Eventually a woman, someone who I had identified as a manager or owner, approached me and apologetically explained that the all the rooms were full and they did not have space for me. She asked if I would mind sharing a room with one of the employees in the linen closet. She told me she'd make me a nice bed and that the employee I'd be sharing with wouldn't bother me. She assured me it would be fine because we were both girls. I told her that that was fine and she scurried away, I assume to make my bed.

    I was crushed and began crying as soon as she left. I really didn't care that the hotel was over-booked or that I would have to sleep in a make-shift bed with an employee of the inn. I was reacting to the sentiment that there wasn't room for me. Her statement that they didn't have enough room for me instantly and enthusiastically released all of my inner demons of being too much for people, being a burden, and not being worth it. I cried as I felt pangs of anger over wondering what I paid for? It's not that I wanted a room, it's that I wanted to not feel like a burden. When you pay for something you earn the right to have or use it. I had paid so that I wouldn't have to bother anyone, and yet I still was. The scarf around my neck and my sleeves were soaked with tears and boogers. I was sitting in the corner of a large room that was full of people. I was simultaneously terrified that someone would see me crying and terrified that they wouldn't. To my relief and disappointment, no one did. Or if they did they didn't approach me. In the end, I'm glad for that. In the moment I felt so invisible.

   At some point the intensity lessened and I began to work on having a good attitude. I told myself that this wasn't a big deal, it happens. It will be funny one day. I thought through how this wasn't personal, it was circumstantial. It had noting to do with me as a person, it was just an unfortunate situation. I reminded myself of the amazing day I had, the extreme fortune that it snowed just last week leaving a fresh layer of water over the salt just for me. I thought of the excitement of the next few days and reminded myself that when you travel, you surrender. By the time the woman returned I was calm and just ready to get settled, wherever that may be. She showed me to a room where the walls were lined with shelves of sheets and bedding. There was a small bed in the corner that I don't know if it was actually a bed or just a lot of padding all on top of each other or what but I didn't really care. It was comfortable, warm, and seemed safe enough. She introduced me to the employee who's room this was. I smiled and said hello and she looked at me with what I perceived to be a very reluctant look. Instantly I felt ashamed and like I was a burden but I didn't know what to do.

   Later at the dinner table my Italian and Swiss mates asked me how my room was and if they eventually got a room ready for me. They didn't know what ended up happening and I lied to avoid telling them about it. I had a feeling that my travel mates, while well-intentioned, would have made a scene out of the situation and insisted that I be refunded or given another room or invited me into one of their rooms and I was just ready to move on. While I enjoyed spending time with them, my travel mates were more comfortable with using their power as a consumer than I was and less interested in peacekeeping. I just didn't think it would be worth it to share with them what was happening. I stand by that choice, but it also made me feel more invisible and like I had a secret which I really don't like.

  Even though I was now no longer upset about it and just ready to move on, somehow it still stung. And I couldn't help but feel inadequate and overlooked as a solo female traveler. I went to bed before my roommate and I made sure that all of my things were tucked away nicely and that I was taking up as little space as possible. She seemed so unhappy to have me in her room so I just wanted to try not to exist as best I could. I pulled my headband down over my eyes so that I could leave the light on for her and went to sleep.

  Looking back, I think if the woman had told me that they were overbooked and would I mind sleeping in a make-shift bed I wouldn't have gotten so upset. What got me was "We don't have room for you." I don't blame the woman at all, she was in an uncomfortable position. It just hurt to hear it that way.

  The next day we drove all over Bolivia and as the day wore on the situation from the night before faded. Bolivia has several lakes that are "colorful." There's the the green one, Laguna Verde and the red one, Laguna Rosada. Technically "rosado" is Spanish for "pink" but in this case it's referred to as the red lagoon in english and the pink one in Spanish.

Day 2 ended with a long walk around Laguna Rosada. Our accommodations for that night were not too far so it was an easy adventure. The second night we were in an even more remote part of Bolivia than the previous night, nearly in Chile. There was barely electricity at the inn so we ate dinner by flashlight.
    I was really emotional that night. All I wanted to do was check-in via texting with a friend but the wifi was spotty and some of my travel mates were complaining quite excessively about that. Although I desperately wanted to talk to a friend I didn't want to make things harder for our hosts or come of as one of those obnoxious people that can't live without the internet. The inn did not have heat and it was insanely cold. Like, you-can-see-your-breath-inside cold. That night me and my two swiss friends were given a room that had about 10 beds. It was ironic to me that last night there weren't enough and tonight I could have 5 or 6 just for me. I somewhat shamefully removed the covers from 2 of the spare beds and put them on my bed because it was so cold. I put on two pairs of leggings, two shirts, my scarf, head band over my ears, two pairs of socks, and put a wool blanket totally over my face. I was not at all prepared for how cold it was. And at this point it was like 7pm so it was going to get way worse. My nose stung and bled on and off all night. I was really pretty miserable. I was so far away from everyone and all I wanted was to be close to someone. And I had to just get myself through it. I couldn't spiral or freak out, I had to just hold how I was feeling and ride the wave.
   I woke up the next morning prepared to go about my day in the clothes I was already wearing because there was no way I was removing any of them, even temporarily. It was way too cold to be shedding layers. I wrapped myself in my wool blanket and went to the table that way. When I returned to my room I grabbed the binder clip that I use to neatly store my phone charging cord and used it to clip my blanket on my shoulder as if it were a toga. I didn't care how ridiculous I looked, I was cold and this blanket was the warmest thing I had to wear. After breakfast was over I went around to all of the tables and emptied the left over hot water from the thermoses into my water bottle to keep my hands warm.
  Our car got stuck in the snow several times and several times we all had to get out and help push out. It was cold, dark, and miserable. I fell in the snow trying to push the car and instantly my legs were so cold. The moisture from the snow clung to my cotton leggings in milliseconds. Other tour guides kept stopping and asking if we needed help and our guide would respond "no" which I didn't totally understand but decided to trust him. After about an hour though of trying to get out and that not working I revoked that trust and approached an on coming car and asked him to please pull us out. He agreed and soon we were on our way. Also soon it was light out and much easier to go around the snow. The views later were worth it.

That night I was back on a bus to La Paz. I ate my dinner, changed into my jammies and went to sleep. Most of the nights of this trip I slept hard. Better than I do at home, actually. The next morning I was back in La Paz. I went back to the same hostel I'd been in a few days ago and got another bed. I wouldn't need it for too long, my journey back home would start around midnight that night but I wanted somewhere to leave my bag for the day and shower before my flight and all. The last several days I'd been winding down and knowing home was coming soon. I spent the day exploring La Paz and preparing to go home.

La Paz has a cable car system called the teleferico. It's to help improve the traffic and make it easier to get to the altiplano which is a higher elevation part of the city. La Paz is beautiful. I rode the teleferico around and just enjoyed looking at the city.

  I booked myself a hotel room in Orlando for the next night since I had a lengthy overnight layover. I made sure I had gifts for all my friends and made sure everything was packed correctly. I felt rested and was accepting of the fact that it was time to return home. Here's an excerpt from my journal: "I was worried about being the same person when I went home. I don't think that's the case. I've learned a lot practically and emotionally from doing this. I definitely feel rested."

 I struggled to come back home. I just didn't want it to end. I was very excited to see my friends, though. And tell them of my adventures. Also it would be nice to flush toilet paper and wear something other than my traveler clothes.

 Parts of the trip were devastating to me: the bitter cold and loneliness of wanting to connect with a friend but not being able to, the feeling of being a burden, the constant questions about how I could be so light skinned and haired and speak such perfect Spanish. Parts of it were also some of the best of my life: observing the most incredible scenery from my lounged bus seat while listening to Radio Lab, the spectacular view and magic of the salt flats, waking up in a different city every day feeling like the world was my oyster, the enchantment of the sacred valley and connection to the Spanish-speaking world I only feel while traveling.

  I am so grateful and privileged to have had the opportunity to take this trip. It did my soul so much good. I feel so relieved that I didn't cave to the pressure of not taking this trip and living a smaller life. It gave me these amazing experiences, and the knowledge that sometimes there's going to be pain because when you travel you surrender, and when you surrender you are vulnerable, and when you are vulnerable things can hurt. And they can also feel incredible. In general we all are our own worst critics and I am no exception. And not to brag or anything but I am especially skilled at being self-critical and indulging thoughts of self-hatred. But even I can't deny that with this trip, I was fearless.