Every September, Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration sponsors Recovery Month to increase awareness and understanding of mental and substance use disorders and celebrate the people who recover. It was my honor to join the people from Boise’s PEER Wellness Center to rally in support of people in recovery and to raise awareness about the FACES of recovery.
Below are the words I offered today as I addressed this special and powerful group of people raising awareness and de-stigmatizing recovery.
“Life is a journey, not a destination…..”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
We hear this quote in one form or another throughout our lives, but in a goal driven culture, where we are expected to achieve something, do something, produce something, we often forget to fully engage in the experiences of the journey along the way. We forget about the simple truths we experience each day: the possibilities in each moment, in each choice, in each action. The power of the connections we can and do make with each other.
This quote resonates with me today, because recovery is a journey, not a destination.
I rode my bicycle across the United States 20 years ago this year. It was called a self-supported bike trip because I had to carry my own bags. No sag wagon, no GPS, no cell phones. Just us, a map, and what we had on our bikes. That’s vulnerable. Now, when I share that with people, the first thing they ask is, “How long did that take? How many miles did you ride? Where did you start? Where did you end?”
They don’t ask the good questions. The real questions.
They don’t ask about the misery of starting in May in Oregon and being soaked and cold for a week to the point I experienced frost bite on my toes…
They don’t ask about the fights I had with my two male counterparts along the way that got so bad that the feelings of isolation and misunderstanding almost led me to leave them and ride alone…
They don’t ask about the mental tennis match of nagging doubts that went through my head with each slow pedal stroke as I climbed Mt Hood, my bike partners out of sight…
They don’t ask about the fear I felt as I started that journey…the doubts, the pain in my stomach, the frequent visits to the bathroom, the feeling of being so vulnerable on that road and alone that I almost didn’t start…
But they, also, don’t ask about the smell of the sage brush right after a rain storm nor the sound of the tires rolling through intermittent rain puddles…
They don’t ask about the empowering feeling that comes from the solitude on a high desert road so straight that it feels like you’re riding off the end of the earth…
They don’t ask about indescribable pleasure of feeling the warm sun on my face as I napped on a sidewalk, bike helmet as a pillow, after an all you can eat lunch buffet at Wendy’s…
They typically don’t know to ask about those things, but that is where the strength of my story lies. The journey is everything.
Most people ask me about the destination. The days that I really thought about the designation, the overwhelming notion of a 4,000 mile journey, are the days I faltered. The weeks before the actual trip where the notion of what I was going to do was so overwhelming that I felt paralyzed to the point that I didn’t train that day and instead smoked cigarettes and thought of ways I could get out of it.
It’s hard now to capture the fear I felt, because the fear was more about vulnerability, what I had to give up, how I would be perceived if I quit, if I couldn’t actually finish. I had a history of those feelings. I had a history of closing myself to experiences and opportunities out of fear of being judged or that I wasn’t worthy.
I did make it across country. For those interested in the destination it took 68 days with 15 days off. We completed 13 century days and a 150 mile day, but that’s not what I hold dearly. It’s what the journey taught me about myself and my resiliency that is so important, because I carry those lessons forwards in new experiences and new destinations:
I learned to walk (or bike) through fear and embrace the feelings of uncertainty and anxiety, because that’s where life’s rewards lie.
I learned to appreciate the good days and the bad days, to be open to the lessons from each.
I learned to accept myself and believe in my own power.
I learned that each pedal stroke was an important part of drawing me to my destination.
I learned that hard work and discipline are fulfilling and there is true beauty in that discipline.
I learned to embrace vulnerability and to lean on others for support.
Because, as it turned out, I couldn’t complete that journey without support and help from the very men I was fighting with and the people back home who were rooting for me. In the end, I had to ask them to carry some of my baggage on their bikes, because I wasn’t strong enough some days.
Our journeys are complex. Life is messy and life is beautiful.
My message to you today is …..
- To embrace each part of your journey;
- Don’t look too far ahead;
- Remain present each day and open to new lessons and experiences;
- To expect shitty days where you feel like giving up (There’s no getting around that);
- To open yourself up and engage fully with the people and the experiences around you;
- Ask for support and offer it to others.
This rally today reminds us that we are not on a self-supported tour. We are in this together. We will lean on each other. Challenge each other. Call out each other on our ‘shit.’ Support each other. Laugh with each other.
Experience this journey with EACH OTHER.
