Finding Ourselves
“What a place to find ourselves,” Nate mused.
Since the moment he said the words, I’ve been meditating on the double entendre. We were outside of Crested Butte, on our second pass of three for the day: Copper Creek. Nate had improbably acquired backcountry permits for both Maroon Bells and Conundrum Hot Springs in a single weekend and had invited me along for the latter. We had met up the previous evening, camped near the trailhead, and had hiked roughly 10 miles toward the hot springs — the long, scenic way. When he said, “What a place to find ourselves,” Nate meant that the scenery was unparalleled. Hiking in this area of Colorado during peak foliage season is somewhat unreal. Every viewpoint we got seemed even more pristine; we were practically living inside a postcard. I couldn’t help but feel so enormously grateful.
Still, what nagged at me was the other meaning to his words. While he was pointing out our physical location, I was thinking much more broadly: finding ourselves. Ourselves, as in, who we are. I suppose my mind wouldn’t have gone this direction if it didn’t feel like both Nate and I are at a crossroads in our lives.
Nate, for his part, has a one-way ticket to Kathmandu in less than a week. Theoretically, he’ll be back early March. This decision wasn’t a rash one, but rather the result of a series of setbacks. When we graduated from Colorado College in 2019, Nate got an ostensibly “big boy” job: he worked as the Western Slopes representative of Conservation Colorado. And in this role, he worked faithfully for a solid four years, gaining serious organizing skills and becoming practically the mayor of Durango in the process. A year ago, he decided to step down to work in a field that aligned more with his passions. He quickly picked up work as a wilderness therapy guide, just for the company to go bankrupt this last winter. A few months later, Nate pivoted to raft guiding, just to be told he didn’t work efficiently enough, and then gained employment with another wilderness therapy outfit. He worked his last shift a few weeks ago, feeling utterly burnt out but willing to put in the time that he had promised. Kathmandu was calling.
The fluctuation in work life would’ve been enough for Nate to deal with, but along with it came with constant unraveling plans. Some of his close relationships deteriorated; he got ill before a race he planned to run in August; he had to completely reorganize a rafting trip after several key friends dropped out. While he wasn’t bent out of shape, he did admit, “Literally nothing has gone to plan this summer.”
Meanwhile, I’ve been battling a lack of plans. Finishing a contract job back in June, I have been applying constantly to jobs with what feels like little momentum. I gave myself July and August to frolic around and enjoy myself, fitting in applications where possible, and I did have a heck of a lot of fun. I backpacked, climbed, trail ran, camped, and traveled to my heart’s content. I vowed I’d use the spare time to get sick at climbing and trail running, and I am arguably at my top level in both now. But after all the moving around, the “funemployment” is no longer much fun. I am frustrated and burnt out. I’ve applied to, on average, a new job every three days. And yet — I spend every day trying to add structure and routine to my life and stay upbeat.
My relationships — with my close friends, my town, and myself — all feel in flux. I no longer feel like I know exactly what I want or where I should be anymore. I feel … stuck. And after trying to create movement all this time, I kind of wish the world would just move.
In a lot of ways, I felt like this little backpacking trip was a moment for Nate and I, individually and together, could “find ourselves.” Removed from society and cell service, we could just be. We could cover miles and elevation while hashing out all of the mixed emotions we had about the current state of our lives — and in the most picturesque setting.
Nate’s ready to get lost in his travels. He’s manifesting a journey full of peaks to summit, people to meet, new places to explore. I’m so excited for him, though I’ll miss him a lot — he’s perhaps the most consistent support I’ve had since May, when it felt like most of my life was unraveling.
Me? I’m less certain. I know I’ll keep waking up every day and trying to create movement. One thing I pride myself on, even though it wears me down, is that I can keep summoning motivation even when things look and feel bleak. I guess I recognize there is no other choice. But beyond movement, I think the larger goal is to keep finding myself. Because I think she’s lost.
