Wednesday, December 30, 2015

2015 Was Not OK But Some Good Things Happened

It’s been difficult figuring out how to summarize 2015.  I distinctly remember this time last year I had so much that made me happy I actually titled a blog post “Finding Joy in 2014” and couldn’t limit myself to just 14 moments of joy.  But I had a feeling that I might struggle in the future to come up with additional great things as the years increase (15 moments in 2015, 16 in 2016, etc).  Perhaps it was a sign that this year would be less than great, maybe it was my natural pessimism.  I’m torn between listing everything that was uncool this year or the people I’m grateful to for helping me through all the uncool-ness, both lists would be quite long.   My compromise is to list both. 

This year I’ve been too busy, cripplingly self conscious and forced to bail on some awesome plans.  My troubles with the whole year could be summed up in the following story. 

August 3 could have been an interesting day, but it was terrible.  The Tour of Utah came to Logan and the Women’s Race went through my neighborhood!  August 3rd also fell right in the middle of my time-crunched field season so I chose to do work instead.  Choosing work over fun was a responsible decision, but I regretted it.  For years I’ve looked forward to my field season, but this year I was cranky.  Cranky about working alone, unpleasantly surprised I didn’t like working alone, grouchy that I could feel my body aging, angry at how long field work takes alone, and experiencing DEET-related rage at the excessive number of mosquitoes.  All the negativity I was carrying boiled over on August 3rd.  It rained more than 6 cm in a few hours, sending water everywhere – through my clothes and into my brand new boots, under my “waterproof” tablet case, all over my camera and phone and into my raincoat pockets.  I thought I was so smart only bringing waterproof things with me into the field, but electronics that can survive being dropped in the marsh won’t work when wet.  Water makes it impossible to type on any touch screen so my tablet typed nonsense, I couldn’t even open the data-gathering app on my phone, and my camera was just taking pictures of the rainwater on the lens. 


Every time I tried to wipe off a screen, dry my nose, or get my hair out of the Velcro on my raincoat I got angrier.  As I was counting saltgrass flowers I completely lost it – I wasn’t going to remember how many flowers there were in each plot, I kept dropping my ruler, magic markers don’t work when wet, and it wasn’t even all saltgrass so I was wasting my time there!  I stood up in the middle of the meadow and cursed, “God!  Why am I even here?!?!”  I couldn’t even curse right!  While I meant that to be two separate exclamations, it sounded like one existential plea to Marsh Llama.   With that I gave up and stomped the half mile back to my rig with my boots full of water and another gallon of water quality samples in my backpack (which couldn’t come from my boots for some stupid reason), but without the ruler.  It was hard work stomping all the way but I did it because I regretted working in the rain when I could have been watching the bike race in the rain.  Even worse, I came back to those wetlands four days later to take pictures in the sunshine.  All regrettable and not the only time I threw a crying hissy fit all by myself in the marsh. 

In between visits a Marsh Master came through and mowed over my monitoring well (and maybe the ruler).

This scenario played out many times this year: suboptimal decisions, bailing, self-consciousness and regret.  I bailed on Mt. Elmer, Mt. Peale, and Abajo Peak – what if I’d started on-time and taken the right way up?  I bailed on the last pitch of Parriot Mesa – what if I’d held on tighter?  I bailed on Phyllis – what if I’d taken the stupider, deer-free way home?  I bailed on a really important relationship – what if I’d said some things earlier or waited it out a little longer?  (It’s more complicated than that, but I like the symmetry of the sentence style.)  I had time to write this today because I bailed on birthday shopping after a terrible accident closed Sardine Canyon. 

As close as I got to Mt. Elmer, Mt. Peale, and Abajo Peak
In OK years I’d have summed everything up like this:  I’m grateful this year that I wasn’t tumbled down a mountain, struck by lightning, eaten by a bear, slain by a deer, frozen, brain-damaged, or physically crushed.  I’m further grateful sadness hasn’t literally broken my heart and that none of those mosquitoes gave me an encephalitic fever.  While I am happy to be alive, I feel thoroughly beaten by this year.  If I don’t acknowledge that it wasn’t OK nothing will change and I’ll get bad juju pretending that everything is epic and awesome when I fail as frequently as everyone else.  It’s been difficult to get by without weekend warrior victories to boost my self esteem.  At the end of many weeks I’ve felt much older than I had seven days before.  In addition to bailing on so many dreams, I’ve been too busy trying to teach and take classes, and complete my own research to focus on the people and activities I love.  I’ve only put up a handful of blog posts this year because I’ve been too busy to write anything fun.  Instead I’ve been working on expressive writing and acknowledging what I feel without reacting to it, so I’m very clear on just how uncool this year was and how uncomfortable that made me. 

Among the uncomfortable feelings I sat with - all the self loathing generated by editing my video lectures.  I'm too itchy and I hate the way I blink and start sentences now.  
But it hasn’t been all bad.  When I look back at the good things that happened this year, it’s clear that I succeeded when I had my people with me. 

Karina and I climbed Lost World Butte with an assist from Brent

Brent, Karina and I successfully located and explored a safe, abandoned mine

I finished my first ultra marathon with Mike and Austin (and it was a great time)

I led most of Longbow Chimney with Brent (lots of problem solving)

I went on the Maine to Maryland Hazelton Hospitality Tour with Chad (and lobster!)

Karina and I finished the Cache Gran Fondo (oh, the views; oh, the suffering)

Minor Solitary Success – I summitted Mt Ellen (in good time and good weather)

I climbed Lost Arrow Spire with Brent (scary yet satisfying; lots of cooperation)

Ran the Top of Utah Marathon and the Halloween Half Marathon (love my running sisters)

The three of us climbed Steinfell’s Dome (not even rain could dampen our spirits)

Ride Around the Wellsvilles v3 was a success (Spooky Edition)

Other good things that happened with my people this year: I went on two family vacations to Bear Lake, full of good views and great company.  My family grew this year with the addition of a 4th nibling and a brother-in-law.  My people helped me with teaching by giving great guest lectures and helping with field trips.  After my accident with Phyllis, several people helped me get out of Bicknell, and have continued to give me rides or lend me their cars when needed.  My people even helped me through a traumatic break-up. 

I didn’t tell anyone about the end of my relationship for weeks because I was so upset about it and couldn’t bare the terrible responses I expected.  Instead of giving bad advice about forgetting and moving on, my people said the most helpful things.  They said they were surprised and sorry to hear about it; that they didn’t know what to say, but would be thinking about us.  They cried with me, shared their Netflix recommendations, and gently coaxed me out of the house with the promise of sandwiches.  I’ve got a great support system and have a lot of good karma to pay back.  Ultimately I’m faced with an introvert’s nightmare: I need my people in order to be happy.  I don’t know how to proceed with that knowledge, but it’s comforting to have so many moments that renewed my faith in humanity. 

I turned to my Word of the Day emails for some 2016 inspiration found four new, appropriate words:

Peripeteia – a sudden turn of events or an unexpected reversal
Landloper – a wanderer, vagrant, or adventurer
Indefatigable – incapable of being tired out, not yielding to fatigue; untiring
Pandiculation – the act of stretching oneself


I’m hoping for some fortuitous peripeteias in 2016 and to pandiculate as I become an indefatigable landloper.  Thanks for all the love and support this year.