Fearless.

I am becoming fearless, day by day. Not in the way I am actually striving to have no fear, I am in fact, quite nervous of the solitary adventures I have signed myself up for and believe that a certain level of fear is healthy. But, I am fearless in motivation that I will succeed and continue to grow in spite of that fear.

I have never minded being alone, what some people might consider lonely, I find helps me thrive, keeps my head on straight and allows me to recharge on a regular basis. Most of the time, I would prefer to curl up with a book or stay in and catch a movie than go out and often times find social gatherings can be very quickly mentally draining and over stimulating.

When I decided to switch my focus from a year of multiple levels of grief (in many different forms of heartbreak, loss and change) and to use that energy instead to empower myself and embark on solo adventures, my initial instinct wasn’t to be afraid of actually being alone but rather experiencing moments alone. Having a sister as a best friend means there are very few things in life I don’t experience with her right beside me.

I was around 4 years old, sitting in the back of the car when I exclaimed very definitely to my parents that I was lonely. I had single handedly decided our family needed a #4 and a short year later, my wish was granted. I very quickly began wishing I could take back my initial wish. My sister, Rachel (Rae) was born exactly 2 weeks after my 5th birthday and she practically didn’t stop crying until my 9th, but I was never lonely again.

Rae and I didn’t always get along, the 5 year age gap meant I was forced to watch Dragon Tales and listen to the Baby Beluga song on repeat because it’s the only way she’d sleep. It also meant that when I wanted to toss a frisbee or practice pitching, she wasn’t old enough to keep up a good game of catch. I was frequently frustrated and she was often angry at me for having no patience with her.

The older we got, the less our age difference mattered and the more we became best friends. It wasn’t just spending all of our time together that bonded us, though. Growing up as caregivers to a sick parent matures you quickly. You lean on each other because no one else understands what it’s like to always be “on” and feel a responsibility that most people never have to experience, let alone as kids.

Watching Dad in pain, on his good days and his bad days, calling 911 when we’re home alone and he has seizures, taking turns pushing his wheelchair on family outings and making sure he isn’t overwhelmed or frustrated in crowds. We watched the strength he suffered with and we watched our Mom be strong (and then some) right along with him and it wasn’t a choice for us, we just stepped up and became strong too.

24 years after I decided I was lonely, I now have a forever best friend. She is my rock, my cheerleader, my shoulder to cry on and my moral compass. I am who I am because though she might be 5 years younger, her wisdom is timeless and her ability to be honest even in moments when it’s the most difficult option, is inspiring.

She is the reason I believe I can push my limits, I can embark on adventures to find myself in the woods or the mountains alone and the one standing behind my cheering the loudest at not only my big accomplishments but the little wins along the way. I am not afraid of taking on the challenges I’ve thrown myself into because I know I can rely on her, with me in person, or half way across the world in spirit, cheering me on and guaranteeing my success in whatever I decide to tackle.

Tomorrow I head out into the backcountry for 3 days and two nights alone. A journey I have been focusing my time and energy on for months, helping me get through one of the most mentally challenging parts of my life. I am not afraid, I am cautiously excited and I cannot wait to see how much I grow and how much stronger I am at the end of this adventure that wouldn’t have been possible without the support of my forever best friend.