When a hike makes you want to throw up.

G and I took a drive last month to look at the fall colours and enjoy a day together in the midst of all the craziness. The beautiful autumn leaves were out in their full splendour. The sun was shining and the birds were singing and the logging trucks were trying to kill me.

You see, we live near the mountains, and around here the best views of the mountains and the trees are to be found on teeny tiny windy roads out in the middle of nowhere. I’m talking like, out in the middle of “no cell service” nowhere. I don’t do that kind of nowhere well. I need the security of knowing I can call someone if we get lost, or the truck breaks, or we go careening off the side of a cliff. This sliding off a cliff is a real thing, because logging trucks in this coutry take hairpin turns at eighty miles an hour and they could care less about you and your fancy picnics.

Off we go on our glorious adventure. A day of romance and relaxation. At least, that was the plan. Funny thing about being married. We tend to believe that our plans and intentions will be met with approval from the other party. Therefore in our great assumption, we tend not to ask for clarification of our beliefs, but instead we forego open communication and carry on along our blissful path of good intentions.

Dear, sweet G thought it would be a lovely, romantic idea to have a picnic lunch by a waterfall. This waterfall is preceeded by a hike. This hike is to be found admist the forest. With animals. In the middle of nowhere. With no cell service. With no other cars or people in sight.

Most girls would love this. Most girls would be super chill to walk into a forest, go on a short hike, and come out in reclusive bliss to dine upon their ham sandwiches with their love, serenaded by the sight and sound of a waterfall.

Not this girl. This girl had a full on panic attack, ugly crying and all. This was accompanied by the thoughts of “what is wrong with me! I am such a freak! It’s a hike, not armegeddon. I’m ruining the whole day and making G feel terrible. Why can’t I just be normal?!”

This, my friends, is called anxiety. When logically you know your fear is unbased and unfounded, but you can’t stop yourself from imminent feelings of doom.

G went to check out how long the hike to the waterfall was and if there were any wild animals on the path. Me being the loving wife that I am, gladly waited in the safety of the truck and let my dear husband venture off to be eaten by a cougar, so long as I was safe.

While G was gone, I eventually was able to get out of the truck and sit on the tailgate looking around at all the beautiful, killer nature. Some humans showed up, and a few minutes later more humans arrived. I figured they could save my husband if needed, and everything would be ok.

Eventually G came back to find a calmer, more rational version of his wife. I decided I could man up and try for this short hike that was mostly in the open with other people present.

I did it. My heart was pounding the entire time, but I did it.

G was proud of me, and I was proud of me.

Now on to my arch nemesis, plane rides.


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