Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh February


Thanks to Facebook and their “Timeline Memories”, I’ve had some photos pop up from way back.

 

February 2011, I was climbing Mount Kenya, believing it to be a “hard hike” only to find out that it’s CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN and that the British military uses the first stop as training camp. THE FIRST stop. At 3500 m. The second stop before summiting is at 4200 m. It was obviously pretty freaking quickly that I was in serious trouble. At 3500m, I had altitude sickness, I couldn’t eat anything, I didn’t want to eat anything, but I would try to eat a bite of granola bar every few hours... Thankfully it went away at 4200m, but at that height, any time I MOVED I was out of breath.

 

I remember every morning my guide’s assistant would bring me warm water and a towel to clean up. Are you kidding me? This is a five day hike and I’ll change my underwear every day and that’s about it. I couldn’t possibly have a sponge bath or anything requiring such effort. And the Assistant Guide gladly took my brand new pack, carrying all of my outfit changes and sleeping bag like it was a feather. He was certainly less than five feet tall and skinny as a rail. And he could run up that mountain, carrying my bags, water for the trip, and all of the equipment required to cook for a spoiled Canadian.

 

I am extremely proud and embarrassed at the same time. I’m proud that I was strong enough to keep pushing, even though I felt like dying, but I’m embarrassed that I could have caused myself some serious harm. I hadn’t trained, I was used to sea-level living, and I went alone with a guide that I didn’t know.

 

The next Facebook photo that popped up was a photo of my father, his wife, and myself. I’m dressed in a hijab as per the requirement to enter any mosque in Abu Dhabi. This was in fact a few days before my climb.

 

Being in Dubai and Abu Dhabi was a super cool experience and I loved it there. I only saw 1/8th of what I wanted to. We went on a “sand safari” where expert drivers take out a bit of air from the tires of their loaded SUVs and drive up and down sand dunes, spinning and sliding; to finish in the desert where we ate under the stars. There was a sand storm – which is a VERY real thing and I still find the odd thing with sand shoved in every crevice.

 

I remember my dad being so frustrated/worried at me that he didn’t even want to SPEAK about my climb. After I did the climb, I figured out why!!

 

After the climb, I returned back to my hotel room in Nairobi, which had been in the news quite a bit at that time for multiple bombings.  At my hotel, all cars were required to be inspected for bombs and my bags were whisked away to be scanned before I could even figure out what was going on. (I was staying at a 5 star hotel, but I think it’s pretty standard in all of Nairobi).

 

I also remember after the climb visiting the David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage and learning about the painful experiences that an elephant can face and just how sensitive they are. It was heartwarming and...well, very sad at the same time.  

Pretty crazy February, no? (Not to mention that I got married earlier in the month as well)

 

And this February?

I’ve been struggling. No world travels. I’ve been in rainstorm after freezing rainstorm for the last couple of weeks (and a blizzard warning tonight!!). I’ve been struggling with low energy and some depression and anxiety that isn’t a stranger to me. (Don’t worry, I’m on the case getting whatever help I need).

 

I’m nearly divorced and officially separated. I’m happy not to be in a relationship that was causing us both pain, but I miss the girls and the family aspect of things. I’m a single gal with everything in my corner – but I’m a bit lost.

 

I find writing therapeutic...but...I don’t know how to write about this.

 

What’s there to write about? That I’m struggling at life? My new job is very, very cool but I’m working on a project that leaves my eyes sore at the end of the day but also seems to be rewarding at the same time? That my best friend is my dog? That I’m sort-of-really-but-too-scared-to-admit seeing someone and I don’t know if they’ll be any kind of tangible future or I’m just wasting the last few years of my thirties?

Yeah. Things are kind of blah right now. I'd take the vacation but I think I'd feel the same way if I was in Kenya or any other country at the moment.
 
 
I'll write more soon.

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