A Woman Hiking Solo – Her Journey of Self-Discovery

Nature had always felt like the safest place for my heart. When I was growing up, we roamed the trees, creeks, and ponds with friends; we had secret places in the neighborhood we liked to hide for hours on end. Like any charmed childhood of the eighties and nineties, we craved the time outside – it was our time to be whoever we wanted to be. Forging paths only we could find, blazing trails like little explorers in another world, we dreamed in color – our futures were there for the taking, we could be anything.  And then we grew up. The charmed childhood wasn’t really what I thought it was, it didn’t prepare me to handle the real world and with every addition to the burden of adulthood – I became more sad and bitter – pieces of me breaking down in the muck and mire of reality – all the beauty of my imagination going with it. I could no longer be anything…

For a long time, I lost everything about myself. I was struggling to be a functional mother, wife, and worker. It felt like the more I gave to others the less I had for myself and my dreams. And what dreams were those? I didn’t know really – I just knew that I felt the weight of an empty future pressing on my heart – like I was just a blank person with a blank presence in life – I was nothing and no one all at once.

Too many times and for all the wrong reasons I put my faith in others to make me happy. I wanted their approval and feedback, their company even though I felt like I needed to be someone that felt like a façade. If I somehow failed these imaginary standards I held – I was crushed and ruined. I pretended not to care but it made no difference in my internal happiness. I was wearing a mask covering so many self-doubts and insecurities. I was still stressed. Still miserable. Still hating myself. I had forgotten what it was like to feel anything but sadness.

We can gloss over how I ended up there – but a few years ago – after a few attempts at hiking with the kids in some areas of my very small state, I took myself to a somewhat familiar place to think. I was admittedly out of my element for a while. Wearing my old canvas boots, skinny jeans and a blouse – who was this person wishing she could suddenly roam through the woods with confidence? I didn’t recognize her at all.

I tried again. And again. And yet again. I was the typical inexperienced hiker. No maps. No plans. No supplies. I am directionally challenged driving, but in the woods, I was doing okay.  I slowly worked my way up into confidence. I got familiar with finding my way around – I got hiking boots and backpacks and water bottles and maps. The more I went out there the more I craved it. I suddenly felt like I belonged somewhere. I was listening to my heart again, writing again; finding the voice I thought I’d never hear again. When Covid happened – Hiking became my escape and reason to go on. Being alone out there in the trees I learned to trust my intuition, my skills, and I was becoming a better version of myself. so many miles I traversed around Rhode Island, Eastern Connecticut, and New Hampshire – slipping silently into the same places so many had traveled before me, yet bringing a new point of view and leaving a piece of my heart everywhere I went.

It’s interesting – to be so alone sometimes, and yet I never felt truly alone. With only me and my thoughts to ruminate, I could listen to my own voice. I set my own goals; I go at my own pace. I stop and take pictures of whatever I want to, and I don’t need to worry if the other people are having fun – I’m having the most fun. Being a mother and wife, I get questioned a lot – how could I be okay with hiking alone so much? Don’t you want company? Aren’t you afraid? But it’s like any other hobby one might have; just because it is hiking doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Sure, it is more socially acceptable for a father to disappear for hours to indulge a hobby outside the home… but I am not going to worry too much about being always socially acceptable anymore. I don’t think others always understand it and maybe it isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, to drop off the proverbial map and ignore it all for the trees – but when I am out there – it’s just me and my heart. I have found real happiness and peace in all those moments and I hope I always will.