Refueling My Wells

Normally a glass half full personality, I recently found myself feeling like my glass was broken. My emotional well was flooded with feelings of failure, feelings of inadequacy. My mental well was depleted. My physical well was exhausted. My creative well, empty.

I was so far down that instead of looking forward to our upcoming vacation, I was dreading it. Who does that?

During the long drive from Illinois to the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota, a vacation we’d been planning for over a year, I had a lot of time to think. You’ve heard of the sandwich generation? Well, I’m the very thinly spread mayo of the sandwich. My daughter suffers from sometimes crippling anxiety and depression. My mom leans on me after losing my dad just before Valentine’s Day this year. She is struggling without her life partner – emotionally and financially. And here I am, the mayo, trying very hard to keep the family together.

I know there are many people much worse off, and I’m not complaining – not really. I love my family. But on the drive west I realized I’ve been so busy trying to be strong for everyone else that I haven’t been taking care of myself. The anxious weight of responsibilities, real and imagined, has been heavy on my shoulders.

A few hours into the drive, I could feel the tension easing out of my body. Physically leaving it all behind meant the various family members would need to reach out to their other supporters. As much as I want to, I can’t. Fix. Everything. Not now, and probably not ever.

I NEEDED that vacation. Two weeks for me, myself, and I. Well, and my hubby too. I prayed. I started taking in the beautiful scenery and letting it flow over me. We played the license plate game as we drove, and I felt like a kid again. I felt free.

The Badlands are beautiful but stark. We drove through Badlands National Park and hiked some of the trails. We saw prairie dogs, mule deer and bighorn sheep. Forced to be mostly disconnected due to spotty cell phone reception, I found myself relaxing even more.

Two days later we moved to the Black Hills. Still beautiful but very different scenery. Cell reception improved but Wi-fi was iffy, even in our campground. I was starting to embrace the forced disconnection. For ten days, we camped – er, glamped. I really like having my own bathroom and a real bed. We took day trips to hike, view magnificent scenery, and look for wildlife. My photographer self was in love with the land and the photo opportunities there. We saw more prairie dogs, coyotes, wild turkeys, pronghorn, and lots of buffalo. We visited a wild horse sanctuary – be still my heart! We even saw a rattlesnake but thankfully he was on the road and NOT on one of our trails.

I was breathing deeply of fresh, pine scented air with no pollens irritating my allergies. I was hiking and observing breathtaking views, filled with awe at the sights so different from those at home. Evenings were spent sitting around my own Survivor-like tiki torches when we couldn’t have a fire, star-gazing and just being in the moment. On the few nights we were able to have a fire, I sat staring into the flames; listening to the sounds of the night, emptying my head of endless thoughts, and letting the breeze carry my worries away.

Relaxing. Refueling my wells. Rebuilding myself. 

A week after returning home, my glass is glued back together. My emotional well feels strong. My mental well feels capable and in control once again. My physical well feels rested and refreshed. And best of all, my creative well is overflowing! 

I hope I learned from this experience how important it is to take care of myself.

What do you do to refuel your well-being? Please share.

 

The Devil Is In The Details

A week of camping and hiking is good for the mind, the body, and the muse.  

Sunrise Lodge was our home away from home for vacation last week. Nestled along the western edge of the campground, the small log-cabin style lodge was equipped with a microwave and small fridge, a surprisingly comfortable bed, and a bathroom.  But my favorite amenity was the wooden glider bench on the porch. It was the perfect place to relax with a cool drink and a good book while Hubby fogged our small area for mosquitoes and set up our evening campfires!  After dark, mesmerized by the campfire flames, I felt all my tensions fade away. 

Our hiking destinations were two nearby state parks, offering about 30 miles of trails between the two of them. We spent our days exploring, hiking through canyons and fording streams, climbing sometimes steep trails and climbing and descending so many steps that if I never see another one, it will be too soon. Our timing was perfect, though – with recent rains, the waterfalls were spectacular! We were even able to walk behind one of them. I was sure my body would protest, but each day, I was surprised at how good I really felt. 

Centered between the campground and the parks was a small town that inspired my muse. In the space of a few blocks, biker hangouts stood next to a bakery, followed by artisan shops, a bistro, and museums. Downtown consisted of maybe two blocks of businesses, including several bar and grills, wine tasting storefronts, a popcorn store and the public library. Across the railroad tracks, a bar with a pizza garden led the way uphill to other businesses: a tattoo parlor, a fencing company, a pizza place, and gift shops. 

My muse was going crazy! Bikers and artisans coexisting? Were there events going on that we didn’t know about, or was this the makeup of the town? How did the townspeople feel about having several bar and grills in the space of two blocks? How did the Bistro fit in? What about competing wineries? 

We learned that the town is a hotspot on weekends, with many of the businesses open only Friday through Sunday. Bikers filled the local Trading Post and another hangout, and the artisan shops and museums were filled with their own clientele. During the week, though, the town seemed almost deserted. Except for one bar and grill, probably better known as a pub, where we ate lunch one day. The place was filled with old memorabilia and had a unique “Hall of Foam” – a number of plaques filled with names of those who were able to drink 16 beers in one sitting. The catch: you can’t drink 16 Buds or whatever you like. They have 16 different beers on tap, most of them craft beers. In order to get in the “Hall of Foam” you are required to drink one glass from each tap. I'm not a beer-drinker, so my tastebuds shudder at the thought!

My muse was fascinated. How can people survive doing business only three days a week? Do the people have other “day” jobs? Where do they live; where do they play? Where did the pub come up with their “Hall of Foam”? What other unique things did we not discover?

So many thoughts jumbled together, and then drifted to my WIP. What could I learn from viewing this community? How do I create a community that makes an impact on readers?

I think the devil is in the details…