I feel like I should define this before just continuing on my blog. As hard as it is for me, here I go:

I’ve struggled with depression for over 15 years. I constantly think, as I drive, “How fast do I have to go to hit this median for me to die an immediate death?” or, if I see a nifty rafter or chandelier, ” Would this hold up my weight?” and so on.

But, and I want to make this very clear, my depression doesn’t define me. I heard or read once that “it takes ten times more effort to put yourself together than it does to fall apart” and I believe that. And that is why I won’t allow myself to fall apart. Suicide is a decision. One that I’ve been fighting for a while so it seems only worthwhile for me to continue fighting it. Otherwise, what am I fighting for?

While suicide seems like a coward’s way out for most, I don’t believe that. I struggle with a sensitivity and empathy I can’t even define. For a pop media reference, I’d liken it to Milla Jovovich character in The Fifth Element where she sees YouTube and documentary videos about the violence of the world to catch herself up on human history and she just has tears streaming down her face the entire time. So I can only empathize with people who commit suicide, including a dear friend of mine.

Hiking, above all else, seems to calm me down. I take in my surroundings. I listen to the birds. Breathe in the air. Appreciate the nature arround me, etc.

So, in a nutshell, this blog is about that. It’s about my hikes. It’s about my journeys. My battles within while observing what is outside. There’s an answer out there that I’m seeking. I just don’t know what it is. I’m hoping writing it down will shed some light on it but we’ll see about that.