How trails got me through.

Healing through nature. An all too familiar narrative.

2023 has been a whirlwind.

Burnout, redundancy, health scares. All normal hard stuff but also a big red flag that I needed to re-evaluate where I was going and more importantly how I was spending my time.

I had fully subscribed to hustle culture for the past 10 years feeling I could outwork everyone to get where I wanted, and believing I could do it on my own.

Yet what lay behind me was a path of destruction and chaos.

I subscribe to the idea that creativity is messy and chaotic. In bursts it’s good, but over a sustained time, when all you can think of is work, and all you do is work, it becomes a problem.

I tried to control the amount of work I was doing by spending three 3 evenings a week outside my 9-5 where I could create Podcasts.

But even with 3 evenings a week, there was a mental creep that invaded every avenue of my mind, and in turn my time. All I thought about was the podcast and what I was building.

Redundancy was a rude but very effective awakening. Burnout soon followed as redundancy only caused me to want to do more to control the situation.

Relationships creaked, my health crashed, and with a health scare in my family which was too close for comfort, I spiraled.

I’ve never really spoken too much about my mental health before. I find it an icky word. That is not to belittle anyone who experiences mental health issues but I find it over-glamorized now. A badge of honor. We don’t need more conversations on mental health or more celebrities wanting to share their squishy sides by telling us their mental health is bad because their PR agent told them to. The conversation is happening. We are all mentally unwell, so the conversation needs to shift to why.

What’s systemic in our society that’s causing us to feel this way? Why did I lack resilience, and fortitude to be able to manage the difficult feelings that came with redundancy? What was I afraid of that caused me to hide behind hard work and hustle rather than lean into living for now, fixing my health, and nurturing my relationships?

These were all thoughts that helped to lift me out of this place. Yet I didn’t come across these thoughts by chance.

I came across them by walking.

Daily.

It was our new puppy who got me out. I had to walk him. He’s one of these energetic breeds who sitting still for too long causes boredom and chewed chair legs and shredded trainers.

It was these walks through the solitude and shade of our local woodland that slowly awakened me. I enjoyed the opportunity to be present. Enjoy the sun peering through the foliage above me, and the breeze fanned through the branches, gently brushing my face. The birdsong became a chorus I craved, and the quiet and non-judgemental companionship of my dog gave me an excuse to walk.

Through my time on the trail, walking a few miles at first, and longer each week I slowly came to realise that I needed to slow down and do less.

I needed to strip down to nothing. Removing the layers I wore because I felt it was expected. Turn up, be consistent, work harder, do it all. These were messages I was subconsciously consuming. I was becoming extreme in my interpretation of them.

Conservations with friends and family helped too. These conversations gave me room to be vulnerable and learn that vulnerability is not my weakness, nor does it make me weak.

My emotional circuit board lit up. I started to feel and began to cry.

I cried for the loss. The loss of time I spent doing the same thing again and again. Yet getting the same results. No wonder I went mad.

I cried for my relationships that were in need of repair. My partner, and children who bore the brunt of my emotional absence over the years.

And I realised.

Success is not money. Success is not in numbers, likes or working harder and harder. Success is also not what our collective mind says it is. Success is an illusion. Success doesn’t exist.

I’ve chosen to replace success with intent, purpose and presence,

Am I living an intentional life? Is what I’m doing purposeful? Am I present and able to enjoy what I have in this very moment?

If I can look back when my time is up and feel I lived with purpose, with intent, and stayed present then that’s enough.

For the second time in my life, the trails and nature held me in my recovery.

For that, my purpose remains to ensure they are there for the next human who needs their comfort.