Lately, I’ve been trying to use Sundays as a family day, making time to take a leisurely motor-trip (as Edith Wharton would call them) to explore nearby areas here in Utah during the summer months. As you saw from another post from months ago, the Cottonwood Canyons were covered with fog & snow near Memorial Day, so I thought it would be neat to see what they looked like now that summer is full upon us. (There will be another post soon with more pictures from a jaunt up to Mirror Lake, towards the Wyoming border, but I focused on the most recent drive for this blog entry.) Little Cottonwood Canyon is a dead end or loop, so be prepared for that if you decide to venture to see its beauty. Big Cottonwood Canyon leads to Guardsman’s Pass at the end loop, which is stunning (the views above come from the Pass, which is only open during the summer when the snow has melted). I can certainly see why these roads far into the canyons are heavily monitored, as there are winding turns with steep drop-offs & no guardrails to prevent a vehicle from sliding off of the road.

Yet, if you can make it to the canyons during July through September, you will be rewarded with spectacular views & vistas.

A special treat manifested in the many wildflower blooms that greet visitors at the summit, sporting a stunning view, an expanse of beauty hardly captured by the images provided here. These forays into nature signal self-care for me, as I’d been denying myself things that make me happy–quite intentionally. Weirdly enough, this isn’t something new for me–the self deprivation, that is. I recently came across one of my many journals that I’ve kept over the years, and this one details my many emotions from February 2008, from 11 years ago. You’d think I’d be very different now with all these years of teaching & administrative work in higher ed, all those goals & milestones met. But nope. You might as well be reading my journal from this past February. Given that I started this blog in February 2018, 10 years after this entry, it’s funny to see the similarities. January and February months always hit me hard because of SAD & the shorter days. Here’s a sample:

2/1/2008: “I find that I’m often confused by my feelings–I feel disillusioned by adulthood, by accomplishing things (goals) I had set for myself. I must have thought that if I managed to achieve certain things, then I would feel fulfilled or completed, even satisfied. Now, I just feel a sense of absolute misunderstanding, confusion–not really disappointment, but a sad emptiness. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill the void if even the best of life events haven’t been able to make me feel balanced & whole. What really is missing? I create part of this ennui by my own expectations; I set them so high that of course nothing can come close to the dream I have established in my mind. I don’t know; I suppose I went through more of this when I was a teenager & in my early twenties–feeling disconnected & in my own little intellectual world… And I’m getting older so I haven’t the excuse of youth & stupidity anymore. So, what’s wrong with me?… My expectations for things have shifted & I seem to think more of the people around me, only to find out that the people are really more my imagination than reality. Do you know what I mean by this? It’s really nobody’s fault but rather my own & this really hasn’t changed much. I feel like disconnecting even more, to remove myself from what could & will eventually hurt me. This always happens. Always.”

And the views I enjoyed yesterday reminded me of my summer days in Switzerland, when I stayed in Vevey & traveled by train up to Gstaad bedecked in greenery & checkered with pines & chalets. That trip predated even the entry written above, which demonstrates an ongoing, lifelong isolation both enjoyed & also resented. It’s a self-created isolation, & getting out into nature helps me to rediscover that connection, bigger meaning, universal sense of being. Maybe it’s that when I see all of this beauty I have to believe it’s all for a purpose, for a greater goal. Do you ever have those weird moments of deja vu where you remember scenes from childhood & it feels like eons ago? I’ve been remembering the house on Prospect Street, & it feels like another lifetime ago. It’s weird to think that I’m even the same person as that kid in those rooms, wearing those clothes, seeing the old tech & interiors. It’s surreal. And then I start to think about the passage of time. How is it that all this time has already passed? Deep thinking, I know, but this is where my mind roams when I allow myself to tap into the bigger motivation, the things that will fill that void.

I think this is why I feared The Nothing so much in The Neverending Story, a movie I was obsessed with when I was like 11; you can ask my sister, I made her watch it countless times. Seriously, I was obsessed–& it’s not a happy movie.

This Sunday ramble is just that, a ramble literally & figuratively from a Sunday sojourn into the Wasatch Mountains. Who’d have thought that this move to Utah would have me so focused on figuring some of my life out. My life coach has been really helpful, & I feel like all high-functioning professionals tend to struggle with things like depressive episodes, anxiety, perfectionism, OCD, & an inability to feel truly happy. My hope is to be a happier person in general, by focusing on the blessings in my life & through gratefulness. Sure, we could dwell on loss, rejection, abandonment, disloyalty, betrayal, & all kinds of negative things we cannot control–but what’s the point? Better to push against the natural inclination to hide away & remain cut off from everything, & if we do–we can often find happiness. There are all kinds of things to appreciate. And, so, this is what the point of yesterday’s drive was–to spend a couple of hours delighting in the magic of nature. In nature, I always, always feel better, happier, more myself.

Thus, I invite you to do the things that make you happy. Just one thing. Give yourself permission to feel happy, even if for a few hours or minutes. It’s worth it. It really is, especially for those of us anxious HSP introverts who will forever be fighting this fight.