A small herd of fluffy mule deer flanked my Xterra as I drove into one of my favorite parts of the valley, hoping I'd stop just long enough for them to get a taste of salt from the sides of my Xterra (winter wildlife sometimes seek out vehicles or sidewalks that have icemelt on them, because they like the nutrients in the salt). A place I affectionately call “God’s Ass”; a handful of massive red rock boulders, two of which come together to form a tunnel between them. Hence the name, God’s Ass.

But, across the field from God’s giant red Ass, are more red rocks which I like to scale up so I can sit atop the world and enjoy some alone time in the sun and wind. Few people go up those rocks, especially in waist-deep snow. But, me? I’m undeterred. 

I sprinted through the field of snow between my perch and God’s glorious Ass until the land rose up from the snowy field almost vertically. There, I dropped down to my gloved hands and began to charge up the rocky slope like a bear, slipping occasionally but getting up to continue till I reached the top. Up at the very top of those red rock boulders, the sun had burned off most of the water and snow, though the rocks were still kept cold by a stiff breeze rushing down the leeside of the icy western foothills. 

Up there, as I paused to catch my breath and make sure my phone and wallet stayed in my pockets as I climbed, I noticed something. Or, rather, someone. Another person in a hoodie had beat me up the rocks. They’d discovered my winter retreat. While they were pretty far away (about twenty yards or so), they were still far too close for me. So, with a scowl and a low, growling sigh, I turned back around and carefully made my way down the rocks. Back towards God’s Ass. As far as I am aware, that person never knew I saw them. 

But, before I made it too far down, I stopped to gaze around my surroundings and listen to the birdsong. Facing east, I could see everything from God’s Ass, to Green Mountain, to the city of Denver, and the Great Plains far beyond. In a nearby brush cedar, a Stellar’s Jay called from within, and two yelping Blue Jays from a barren Gamble Oak answered, inviting the blue-and-black Jay to join them (which it did, but it was too fast to get a good picture as it flew). Soaring high above, a red-tailed hawk circled the sky looking for something to eat. But, considering how healthy the deer of Ken Caryl were, I doubted that hawk would have much luck. A small flock of cute little Chickadees fluttered into a red cedar near the base of my red rock perch, making all sorts of noises as they bounced from branch to branch, tree to tree. 

While I had human company behind me, I was still able to pay more attention to the nature around me. At least, until the guy behind me on my favorite boulder sneezed, startling me and the surrounding birds. That startle was enough to make me slip on some snow and ice. I didn’t fall far or hard, but it was still quite angering. 

I brushed the snow off my legs and butt, rolled my shoulders, then made it the rest of the way back down to the snowy field, growling like a pissed off dog as I did so. I planned on heading over to God’s Ass, until I picked up on some noises echoing between the rocks, and then saw a rowdy group of teenagers emerge from the tunnel between the two giant red rocks. I watched the teens from behind a grove of barren brush, as they did what kids do: raise hell and act upon their impulses without thinking first. 

Again, I scowled and grumbled, but never once tried to approach anyone who was invading my territory that day (in fact, I did my best to hide from them as much as possible). I would have to find someplace else to get some alone time with nature. Where that was, I didn’t know. 

Unfortunately, I’d run out of time. I had to return home and finish up another section of classwork for college. Instead of leaving the valley refreshed, as I hoped, I left only angrier. More irritated. More foggy-minded. Sore, caked in red soil, soaked in snowmelt. 

This feeling of frustration, or rather of being trapped without a bolt-hole, has really gotten to me as of late. I've been irritable as ever. I'm pissed off by the state of the world. It baffles me that two years into the pandemic, many people still haven't gotten their shit together. The government's handling of pretty much everything (especially my healthcare) irks me even more. College has also been a thorn in my side, or rather, some of the people I'll be having to deal with this semester. And, on top of all of this, I'm pissed off at the fact that my anxiety medication is starting to wear off. I will soon need to try a different medication, as I am now maxed-out on the dosage of my current medication, and my depression and anxiety have begun to rear their ugly heads again, despite my efforts. 

It feels as though I'm once again getting sucked into a familiar black hole of disability and despair. It's tough, scary, and stifling. I'm running out of ideas on how to cope with it. Because, at this point, I can't really avoid or even escape it. The depression and anxiety are there. The fear is there. The frustration and cabin fever are there. The grief and despair and downright rage are all there. The unfairness and injustice of winning the genetic lottery in the worst possible ways are also there. I can't deny it. I can't run from it. I just have to live with it. Weather the storm and learn to survive it all. 

But, I desperately want to do more than just survive. Living in "survival mode" my whole life has really taken its toll on me. And, it's also standing in my way of really thriving in college (and life in general). There is so much I wish I could just do, such as strike up a conversation with a peer without being forced into it by some group project, or go camping without getting so nervous about every cloud and shadow and gust of wind within a ten-mile radius of me. I wish I had the stamina to work, go to college, and maintain a healthy social life all at once. I wish I was less skittish and cowardly. I wish my mind and body weren't seared with scars from my past. I wish I didn't have to take so many damn pills and be so mindful about what I eat and drink and breathe. I wish my muscles weren't so tense with stress and anxiety all the time. I wish I was just normal. 

Therein lies pretty much every one of my challenges, both past and present. I've never been normal or average, and I never will be. Why is that so hard to accept? Why is it instinct for me to compare myself to everyone I come across? Why can't I just be content with myself and where I am? Why can't I accept the fact that I'm extremely unique, to the point it's especially ridiculous to compare myself to everyone around me? Why? Why? Why?

I don't yet know the answers to those questions, though I can (and will) speculate. After all, I have always felt like grossly out-of-place. Since I was old enough to begin to spot similarities and differences among people, I have known, damn well, about my own "stick-outs" and weaknesses. And, as a result, have felt like I just don't belong anywhere I've ever been. 

That feeling of being an outcast and a misfit is certainly not a good one, at least for me. While I do cherish and value individuality and my alone time, I also don't want to be bullied and rejected time and time again, especially for things that are way out of my control. Yet, throughout my life, time and time again, exactly that has happened. I mean, I was an easy target for bullying and ostracization growing up. I was tiny and skinny, quiet and docile. Teachers and peers alike relentlessly went after every weakness of mine they could. As I reflect on my childhood, even so-called "friends" treated me similarly, just not as badly as everyone else did. 

I do recognize that these days, things are way different than they once were, even if they feel the same. I'm not the same sickly, docile, doormat of a little girl I once was. I'm still quiet and don't like conflict, but I can stick up for myself and fight for my needs these days. I'm ever-so gradually beginning to realize that I'm a lot smarter and better at things than I give myself credit for. I'm beginning to truly attempt to rise my self-confidence from its grave; something I never thought I could do. It's just taking a lot of time and a lot of effort to erode away twenty years' worth in bullshit left in my mind from my past. I've only really seen any real results from years upon years of intense therapy in just the last few years: my courage to learn how to drive and get my license, graduating high school on time, and now attending college. But, all that effort is worth it.

Well, at least, that's what I have to tell myself every morning when my alarm goes off.