Living Authentically

I can get a bit obsessive over certain things when I can’t understand it. I dissect and analyze it all to try to make it make sense.

I was called “jealous” by so-called old friend which really threw me for a loop and was another one of those times where I thought “Wow, I really don’t like the version of me in your head and that doesn’t resonate with me at all!”.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. I’ve never experienced it though and I’ve never understood it. I had an ex who was extremely jealous. He’d imagine crazy scenarios where I’m cheating and yell and hit as if I had done it. Do I sometimes look longingly at people out with their parents and wish I could have parents who cared about me? Sure but I don’t begrudge people for having decent parents.

It’s up there with another thing I still don’t get: how people can hate someone just because of their license plate state. As if some imaginary boundaries drawn by men somehow dictate the behaviors of the people living inside them. California gets a lot of shit and I constantly hear and see people using that as if it’s a slur (go back to California! Don’t California my Arizona etc). Meanwhile most Californians are transplants.

Back to jealousy though…. I have never wished to possess what others have because I can get it myself. If I wanted a career in an office, spouse and/or kids, I could have. But I don’t want those things right now.

It reminds me of this conversation I had with someone. We jokingly said we should switch our lives for a day and she made a face (she can’t poop in the wilderness much less live out of a van 😂) and my butthole cringed at the thought of doing her government job which is my idea of hell. It was kind of cool to realize we both had really curated our lives intentionally to the ways we wanted, especially after having such a highly controlled childhood.

When I complain about my struggles, it’s not about living on the road. I love the roadscapes, landscapes and nightscapes I get to see daily. I love the fellow nomads and adventurers I get to meet along the way, each one with their own unique stories.

And I LIVE for my longer distance hikes and adventures. I’m thinking Peru for my next trip to get Machu Picchu & Rainbow Mountain out of the way and then explore the Amazon btw. Maybe go for an ayahuasca ceremony if I can find a non-commercialized female native healer. Mama Aya is calling me back. I can feel it.

I also so love how helpful people are on the road everywhere. I’ve given spare gear to people in need and I’ve been on the receiving end of kindness as well. Nomads are my people. And a lot of people who I grew up with don’t get that. I’m sure they see me as a bum or whatever. And that’s fine. People are entitled to their versions of me even when I feel they couldn’t be further from the truth.

I use this blog for my thoughts and people seem shocked or think I’m like this super low vibe person because I share my shadow self with the world. But there is so much light and feeling and love inside me. It’s just that I keep those precious moments & things mostly to myself because to share things with people seems to cheapen it with words.

I could tell you I took a few minutes to watch a caterpillar eat a strawberry flower the other day. Sounds simple. But I swear that caterpillar knew I was there. I could feel it sense my presence as it moved it’s head at me and shifted around. I tried to imagine being the caterpillar, imagining how I appeared and felt to it. I hoped it sensed I wasn’t a threat and just wanted to admire it. Could it feel my curiosity and admiration? ….Now I just sound crazy hahaha. And that’s why I don’t like to share that stuff. I’m like Gollum from LOTR… except MY Precious is the good stuff. The sweetness and softness I want to protect from the world.

What I need to work on: my hyper independence – I need to allow people to help and contribute. I need to work on my mindfulness when it comes to being present. I have this horrible trauma response whereby I constantly have this feeling of wanting things to be over, even good things. It sucks the joy right out of things for me.

I’m a work in progress. And that’s ok.

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