Foggy Emotions

In honour of full transparency, and why I started this blog in the first place (remaining true to myself),I am starting off by telling you that I am writing this post from a low point (emotionally that is...I am still in the mountains after all). The adrenaline, pure excitement and awe has carried me along this far but after a long day of driving and a less than cozy campground, I find myself feeling heavy. More on all of this if you read along.

My third full day in Alberta started off strong, I actually was on schedule leaving my campsite for once and had time to stop at a few viewpoints for photos on the way to todays main activity (and the only thing I had pre planned for this trip) KAYALING MALIGNE LAKE. I originally had planned a sight-seeing/bus/boat tour but it never felt like the right thing for me and after a few reviews let me know I'd be spending a few hours of the tour on a bus, I cancelled and found out I could kayak the lake instead which was much more my speed. I arrived at the lake around 8:20am, they requested in the confirmation email that you show up 30 minutes prior to my 9am reservation. It was freezing, the air was chilled and damp and the lake was covered in a layer of fog. The boathouse was also closed and doesn't open until 9am. I decided to take advantage of the morning and grabbed my Jetboil from my van, headed back down to the lake. I made myself some hot coffee to warm up and then decided to take another opportunity to dip my toes in freezing mountain water. There is no better feeling that your body and your mind becoming alert at once and it made me so excited to start my day.

Once the boathouse opened, I hopped in my kayak and set off for 4 Mile Point (which was estimated to be a 4-5hour paddle round trip back to the boathouse.) I had the lake completely to myself, the glassy water, call of the loons and lingering fog the only things surrounding me. After the fog cleared, the sightseeing cruises started up and they made the paddle exceptionally more difficult thanks to the waves I was now paddling against. I made it to the island in under 2 hours (arms on FIRE) and followed a path to a literal toilet just sitting in the middle of the woods and then I sat on the shoreline and enjoyed another Jetboil coffee, a snack and the view. The paddle back should have been easier except my arms were so exhausted it was actually rather painful but all in all the trip took me approximately 3.5 hours and was worth every second of discomfort.

I hopped back in the van, did another dodgy outfit change before a 3 and a half hour drive (at the very beginning of which I had my first bear sighting on the side of the road) to Lake Louise and stopped in Jasper for some gas. I had planned on finding a store to purchase a shot glass (I collect them) but could not bring myself to battle the parking and the people so now I have an excuse to come back soon to get one. The drive back was much more enjoyable, the weather was cooperative and I had a map and Spotify playlist downloaded. I made a last minute decision to stop at Athabasca falls to stretch my legs and while everything about the area was absolutely stunning and I suggest you make the stop, be prepared to deal with large amounts of people. My fitness watch died (first world problems) before I really even started the "hike" (it was more of a walk) but I think the entire journey was around 2km total, the perfect way to walk out the road trip stiffness without too much of a time commitment.

Lake Louise...either my blonde was showing or my lack of directional capabilities. Or the fact that the campground has very poor signage. I had to pull over and orientate myself but after 5 minutes was on the right path (directionally. This is wear my mental state took a wrong turn.) I don't know if it is exhaustion, lack of adrenaline or the fact that the campground is incredibly lack luster and "touristy" but loneliness hit me like a thunderstorm on a sunny day. Unexpected, dark and all consuming.

I'm going to sort of steal a quote from someone influential in my life but it goes something like this:

I am at an era in my life that I always thought I'd have someone next to me for. And I'm experiencing things I never saw myself doing alone, by myself.

The last year was a hailstorm of trauma and grief and emotions and somewhere along the way, those things changed me. Those experiences shaped me in a way I wasn't expecting and put me through mental turmoil and changes I didn't see coming. Those changes shifted something within me that told me I could not continue to love someone else when I couldn't even love myself because I didn't even know who I was anymore. It's been six months since I broke my own heart and I hoped I would be further along in my healing journey by now. But I feel like every time I take a step forward, life pushes me back and I often feel stagnant. Don't confuse these emotions with self doubt though, I truly am loving discovering myself again, what I am capable of, the emotions I let myself feel, the mental strength to overcome things I didn't think possible. But that doesn't dull the ache in these moments, eating dinner alone with no cell service after so many days of excitement and no one to share it with, trying to plan tomorrow with no one to bounce ideas of off and the eerie quiet that is deafening when I realize just how alone I am.

I suppose that is part of what fuels my desire to keep showing up for myself though, the fact that these moments come, often with tears and frustration but then I get a little bit stronger, rewiring my brain to appreciate the silence instead of despising it, writing out my days instead of sharing them with someone sitting beside me and growing, in whatever capacity I allow myself to grow. Because when the sun sets, tomorrow is a new day to remind myself that I'm human, that darkness will always be there but there's light too, if I let myself find it.