Well… it’s been one hell of a semester, to say the least.

I’ve got about three weeks of it to go, then I’ll be free (I’ll probably take one class over the summer, but it’ll be something easy to knock out the art credits I need for my degree). However, I’m running on fumes. I’ve worked my ass off this semester. Considering I’m still holding a solid B in my Algebra class (and am well beyond the class curve), and a solid A in Research Writing, my hard work’s paying off. But, I’ve been burning at both ends, and I need a break if I’m gonna survive the remaining semester. 

Now, why on earth would I do that? Why not just stick it out for the next three weeks and crash? Well… for one, I’m just annihilated. I’m burned out. My health isn’t where it should be, and I’ve lost several pounds over the course of this semester. Why’s that? Well… I’m an overly anxious creature. Even with medication, a proper diet, daily exercise, and time set aside each day to take care of myself, I still can’t stave off the more subtle physical symptoms of anxiety, such as a racing heart, lack of appetite, and inability to sit still for longer than three seconds without fidgeting. As time goes on, that subtle anxiety definitely takes a toll on me. 

At least, I know why I’ve been so anxious. The biggest reason (this semester), aside from math, is the fact that it’s springtime. Springtime in Colorado does weird shit to people. Turns out, “Spring Fever” is a real thing, and everyone’s feeling it this year. I can’t go on a valley hike without encountering other people, who spook the wildlife out of sight from my camera’s lenses, and drown out the birdsong and wind rustling through the brush. Baseball, soccer, and tennis season are all in full-swing, too. Since I live right across the road from a handful of tennis courts and a baseball diamond, I can’t escape the noise of people taking their kids’ games way too damn seriously. Also, it’s apparently “weekend block party” season, and BBQ season, and “everyone must be outside at all hours of the day and night” season. 

Oh, and don’t even get me started on Denver traffic! 

Needless to say, I need out. I haven’t truly left the city since last May, which is a huge issue for someone like me. I just need to turn off the chaos for a day or two to survive the next three weeks, which is exactly what I’ll be doing this Thursday. 

My grandpa Lyle’s best friend, Eddie, owns a cabin in the middle of nowhere, roughly ten miles from a little town called Como, Colorado. My grandpa told Eddie about my predicament, and Eddie gave us permission to go up to his cabin for as long as we wanted. Unfortunately, I still have responsibilities (otherwise I’d stay there till I got sick of the silence), but I’m looking forward to the couple nights I’ll be able to stay up there, just me, my grandpa, Eddie, and my puppy, Toby. 

I’ve visited the cabin before, when I was just seven years old. I forget exactly the time of year I was up there, but I do remember it being very cold and windy the whole time we were up there. Still, I loved every second of it. 

Every day, we’d go fishing at a nearby lake (which wasn’t frozen over, so it must’ve been early fall or late spring when we stayed up there), and we lived off of the bass, trout, and northern pike we caught. Eddie also had a couple of birdfeeders, and I figured out if I took a handful of birdseed and held it out in the palm of my hand, the birds would land on my fingers and eat directly out of my palm. 

I also remember meeting the neighbor’s pack of wolf-dogs. I don’t recall exactly how they got there, but I do remember Eddie opening the front door to let in three massive, pointy-eared dogs into the cabin, and introduced them as the neighbor’s wolf-dogs. Those things were each about the size of a shetland pony (my head was about at their shoulders), but they were gentle with me. 

That’s all I can clearly recall, but my grandpa’s got plenty of pictures and VHS tapes from that trip somewhere. And damn, I can’t wait to make even more memories this weekend, even if our trip will be rather short. 

After this week, I’m sure I’ll be in a better mood after getting away for a couple days or so. After all, I’m no city kid. I actually hate the city. Hell, I can barely stand city-suburbia, or suburbia, or horse country for that matter. There’s just too many people, making too much noise, going too fast on the roads, scaring off all of the wildlife, drowning out the starlight and birdsong. Just making everything loud and chaotic and unbearable in general. 

It’s why I’ve decided that no matter what I do, or where I end up, my end goal is to have a place in the wilderness to run away to whenever I need it, like a cabin in the mountains, or a “little house on the prairie”, or even just a chunk of land to retreat to and shut out society. I just need a place to hit the "reset" button when stress and anxiety (caused by living in Denver, which is one of the most fast-paced cities in the nation) start to get the better of me.