In the meantime, while I wait for the world to return to normal again, I'll be desperately trying to claw my way out of this black hole of depression being in quarantine stuck me in, as it's the most important and solvable issue right now. Due to the bullshit's that still going on, I can't go to a church yet, or hang out at a cafe, or go to college, or go hunting, or charter a fishing boat, or use the Meetup app to make more friends, or anything like it. However, what I can do is get my anxiety and depression medication adjusted, an experienced Washington therapist who is willing to work with my CF, Cardiology, and Autism teams, and force myself to get up in the mornings and leave the house at least once everyday, instead of doing my favorite depression activity, which is staying in bed all day and wallowing in misery. I'm still gonna be a miserable piece of shit for awhile, but at least I can be miserable somewhere else besides my bed. 

But, as I'm sure most people are aware of, it's kind of hard to be miserable when you're on the beach or walking on a hiking trail in the middle of the rainforest. However, I don't feel very much joy while in the wilderness either. I'm basically just numb, which is better than being sad and exhausted at home. Despite my numbness, I can admire nature and do questionable things in the name of adventure (such as driving my tank of a vehicle down a slippery, narrow, cliffside road in the midst of a dense, foggy rainforest with zero cell service and very little visibility). And, at times, I do get a few molecules of serotonin, which make each solo adventure worth it. 

Even in my darkest days, I cannot resist adventure when it calls. I've never been able to. Even when I was dying of Pseudomonas just a few short years ago, I went out and shot my first pronghorn. There's just something about being alone or with a very small group of close loved ones in the wilderness, millions of miles away from most civilization, or at least in places that feel a million miles away from others. Given just how dense and dark these Washington woods are, it's not hard to feel like I'm far, far, far away from civilization, even if I'm just a mile or two from town or a few yards away from someone's house. I like that. I like it a lot. 

But, in a way, being out-of-doors right now is bittersweet. Washington's vast pine forests, jagged hills and bluffs, and life-filled waters are really starting to grow on me, but I still miss Colorado very much. I miss the wide open plains where I've always gone to ride horses and dirtbikes, hunt pronghorn and fish for pike and bass, and scour the golden landscape in search of shed antlers and sunbleached animal bones to collect, and large bullsnakes to harass my not-so-snake-friendly loved ones with. I miss the Rocky Mountains. They're where I bagged my first wild turkey, gone off-roading with my father, stood atop Pike's peak and mount Evans, and where I was also traumatized out of skiing and camping (but, due to my homesickness, I look back fondly upon those misadventures, almost to the point I'd gladly stay in a spider-infested camper if it meant coming home again). I miss Colorado's sunny though unpredictable climate. I miss the family and friends I left behind in Colorado, but who I'm almost certainly gonna meet again within the next few months. 

It honestly feels very weird to drive around Washington behind the same wheel I drove around my home state in. My truck is basically the same as it was back home, but the roads are very, very different here in Washington. Everything in Washington is vastly different than what I'm used to. But, in many ways, I really enjoy that newness, especially now.

There are animals and plants that are native to Washington that I've never been up close and personal with, until very recently. There are beaches, woods, fields, rivers, points of interest, and take-out restaurants I've always wanted to check out but never had the chance to, until very recently. I'm also about to get myself a cold water wetsuit to go with my brand new kayak and snorkel, assuming Washington stays in level two lockdown and doesn't regress back into full-on lockdown like we've been in since October. I'm already very familiar with Gig Harbor's many public docks in preparation to get back into the water, after so many years of being unable to swim due to health issues Trikafta has since freed me from. 

Not to mention the numerous hunting and fishing opportunities that I can take advantage of. I just have to get a hold of the right people, as well as go to a couple of gun safety classes required by the state to possess certain firearms. But, those should be pretty easy for me to do when I have the time and the cash to do them. 

With all of this in mind, I'm feeling much more relaxed about living in Washington. Before, my anxiety was so bad that I couldn't eat, sleep, or gather the courage to leave my house. While I did force myself to eat, my body refused to digest anything, and I was losing weight at an alarming rate for a couple months. Sleep was practically impossible. And, during the day, I was too tired and sick to leave the house, and whenever I did, I never had much fun. Of course, it wasn't just the stress of moving that was getting to me. I was very bothered by the state of the pandemic, the isolation from being unable to visit with anyone outside of the household in-person unless strict safety measures were taken, the long, hard process of gathering up a team of doctors to keep me healthy and alive in Washington, as well as politics.

Politics was one of my main anxiety triggers, especially since I kept getting roped into family group texts I never asked to be in, where the chosen topic was, of course, politics and occasionally religion. For the most part, I just kept my phone on silent and never read or engaged with the texts. But, then my grandparents and a couple great aunts and uncles started asking me for my opinions more directly. Still, I remained pretty quiet and vague, taking every chance I had to try to steer the conversation towards other topics.