Tag: nature

sober lifestyle

Trouble

jenwielgusjournalism

I was desperate to get to my class, but every path I tried was blocked, so I ended up cutting through the pool — as in, a fully-clothed plunge and doggy-paddle — and climbing a steep staircase around the natatorium rafters to a window, where the only option appeared to be wriggling under an open crack. And just as I was about to shove my head between pane and sill, like Wendy Torrance clambering to escape the Overlook Hotel bathroom, a loud voice boomed over the PA system, dripping with contempt:

“JENNIFER WIELGUS, GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. YOU ARE BEING EXPELLED.”

It was then that I realized…this wasn’t real! I could just open my eyes and be free! 😅 Relief was followed by bewilderment, which quickly turned to frustration.

“Damn! WTF! Why does my brain hate me?!?!”

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sober lifestyle

Interruption

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I didn’t realize how hard it had been raining until we finished hiking one gorge (Taughannock Falls; pictured above) and got in the car to head to the next (Ithaca Falls; see below). I plopped into the passenger seat, and all at once, I was forced to feel my soggy jacket and leggings clinging to my limbs, my soaked hat/hood weighing heavy on my head, and my tangled hair clumped against my neck.

For the previous two hours, I’d been completely unbothered, my personality split off to its “pleasant” side as my three favorite elements of the universe — my partner, nature and movement — converged in/around one gargantuan hole in the Earth. I found myself feeling grateful for the weather, because despite it being a Saturday morning at a high-traffic tourist attraction, my husband and I barely encountered any other humans on the trails. It was a cleansing rain, from that point of view, washing away both the residue of the week and the weight of the world.

But then, we stopped, and sat stewing in our respective puddles, and I felt my mood instantly turn irritable. Every inch of my body was antsy, to either get where we were going, stat, so I could move again, or get on back to our AirBNB so I could change into cozy pajamas, stuff (burn) my mouth with freshly-baked frozen pizza, and dissociate to Netflix by the fire.

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sober lifestyle

Moodiness

jenwielgusjournalism

Monday morning: My eyes darted upward at the pale blue, predawn sky as I jogged through my neighborhood, and I was struck with a bolt of inspiration. Or maybe it was a jolt of caffeine from the BCAA+Energy drink I’d mixed and guzzled as extra oomph to help force my ass out the door.

Either way, I felt a euphoric mix of emotions — joy, relief, gratitude — course through my body in that moment. I was back on track!

I was out doing something I love! I mean, I was doing something athletic that I love, because I also love to sleep, but I’d just done that on and off for the past 48 hours straight. I had trudged back upstairs shortly after breakfast on Saturday and Sunday, to yank the blackout blinds and burrow into my blankets while munching a melatonin gummy to self-medicate a mental state the AA folks would describe as “off the beam.”…and all my perimenopausal pals likely know as “the norm.”

It had been, more or less, a lost weekend. But moving toward the state park at the start of the work week, I felt reborn as a fully functional human! My heart was pumping, creative juices flowing, brain whipping up ideas I couldn’t wait to share in my blog…

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sober lifestyle

Ability

jenwielgusjournalism

The video was my husband’s idea, and in hindsight, I’m so glad he “pulled over” trailside and took it, because otherwise, I’d have precious few visuals to use with this post. True, it’s a poor representation of the lovely images flashing through my memory of our late Valentine’s date at Elk Mountain Ski Resort. But despite how nonchalant I might seem transitioning between the “Mahican” and “Schuylkill” runs, I was far too focused on staying upright, injury-free, and warm, to go through the trouble of digging out my phone and snapping photos of my own.

The views at Elk were breathtaking, and I mean that literally. In the moments I felt controlled enough to look up and out, I found myself gasping, yelling, “Look at that!” to no one in particular, and smiling so widely and for so long that my face froze, painfully joker-esque. 🤡

Outdoor activities always seem to morph me into a jubilant little kid; I don’t need to be an expert schussing down black diamonds to feel the intoxicating rush of the purest “natural high.” Skiing offers a potent cocktail of freedom, empowerment, possibility, and connection to all that’s “right” with the world.

I mean, when I was an actual little kid tagging along with the ski club at my aunt’s school back in the Midwest, I remember spending entire outings tugging on the tow rope and snowplowing down the bunny slope and feeling the same exhilaration.

Skiing reminds me that the mere ability to move, regardless of skill level, or how I look, is a precious gift. A celebration of life.

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sober lifestyle

Winter

jenwielgusjournalism

A familiar scent hung in the frigid morning air, and it grew stronger as I traced the usual path from my neighborhood to the state park. I wouldn’t call it pleasant, and it took a while to ascertain that no, my coat hadn’t fallen into a dumpster full of trash juice; there were tractors out fertilizing the fields. But it worked the old magic that smells always do, shooting through my nasal passages straight into my memory bank and time-machining me back to childhood on my grandparents’ farm.

Manure never bothered me anyway. 😉 And my Midwestern blood feels right at home in the cold. Just as I recall bundling up to seek adventure in the frozen Wisconsin woods, dragging my sled on a search for the slightest elevation or white-knuckling rocket-speed snowmobile rides with my dad, I hit the trails of Southeastern PA for daily 4- or 5-mile nature walks, come teen temps or bitter windchills. What was true in ’88 remains so in ’25: Being outside keeps me sane.

Well, sort of.

This winter season, traditionally a minefield of mental health triggers stretching out from January all the way into April, has been fertile ground for my anxiety in the early weeks of this new year. A Thanksgiving back injury, followed by a respiratory bug that hit right after Christmas, has forced me to slow down, pull back and sit still longer than any anxious person would ever voluntarily choose. Particularly an anxious person who’s sober, possesses a social conscience, and is responsible for helping others with their mental health.

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sober lifestyle

Presence

jenwielgusjournalism

My eyes take in some version of the above scene once or twice a week. It flashes before me about a half-hour into my morning jog, just a minute or two after my turnaround point on the Delaware Canal towpath, and then vanishes behind a line of trees within five or six steps. My brain barely has a chance to process anything beyond “Wow,” before my focus has shrunk from that beautiful big-picture perspective to whatever granular “real-world stuff” I’m going to have to face a couple miles down the path.

The other day, I forced myself to stop — OK, slow, not that I ever move particularly fast — long enough to snap a quick picture. Guess you could say I had the presence of mind to realize how seldom I’m truly present in the moments of my life, and here was a perfect example.

(Of course, my intention all along was to use the example in a blog post, in the future, so…maybe that doubly proves the point? 🤔)

See, the human tendency to time travel is truly torturous. We know our time here is finite, and fleeting, and all we really have to work with/revel in is now, and yet our brains insist on ruminating or rushing ahead. Or they immediately conjure up some distraction, usually involving a cell phone, like how I’m currently standing on the deck of this amazing log cabin in the Poconos at 5AM on a Sunday, under a glittering canopy of stars, playing an episode of “Better Call Saul” on the Netflix app while typing in WordPress and posting a new cover photo on my Facebook profile, for some unfathomable reason…

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sober lifestyle

Pleasure

jenwielgusjournalism

On the way to the running path early Saturday morning, with dawn breaking in brilliant pinks and purples and Road Trip Radio pumping Kenny Loggins through my car speakers — the song was “Danger Zone,” which in hindsight is so appropriate — I drove by a place from my sordid past. My brain did a quick calculation: It’s been six years. And out of my mouth shot a short prayer: THANK YOU SO MUCH!

There have been so many topics on my mind lately that I started and stopped writing several different blog posts over the past month. Finally, I just decided to focus on how I really feel at this moment in time. Which is…well, grateful, yes, of course. But overall, just very pleased. And to channel the sentiment in Dr. Doyle’s lovely Instagram post, this good feeling comes without any real “worthiness” qualifications, or reasons why.

I mean, it’s awesome that fall is nearing and for the first time in three years, I don’t have to go back to school. It’s equally awesome that Fall 2024 finds me working in private practice, the job I dreamed of when I decided to enroll at DelVal, study counseling psychology, earn my Masters and become a therapist who helps people with substance use and eating disorders.

Can you frickin’ believe it, y’all? I actually am that.

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sober lifestyle

Ecotherapy

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View from my picnic spot in the Andorra Natural Area, Sunday, Oct. 22, 2023

The group leaders had “discussion prompts” for us to use in this exercise, but I didn’t wait around to grab the list they were handing out. I heard them say “lunch with a tree” and instantly fled the circle to go explore the surrounding forest and grab a bite with some bark. 😉

It was noon on Sunday, Day 2 of last weekend’s Philadelphia Ecotherapy Fall Training event, and I’d had more than my fill of human contact by that point. I’d signed up (and paid $250 of my husband’s money) to join 15 other trainees in the woods of Wissahickon Valley Park and learn from real therapists integrating nature into their counseling practices throughout the area.

When I first heard the term ecotherapy, I knew it was for me, and though I’m years from hanging my own shingle, my goal in the training was to gain knowledge — What’s the science behind nature’s medicinal effect on our mental health? What does “reciprocity” in our relationship with the environment really mean? How do you say, “I’m from Philly” in the language of the Lenape? — and pick up practical skills and techniques so I can one day help my clients experience nature in a more therapeutic way. 🤞🏻

I also, selfishly, came here craving my own therapeutic experience in the Great Outdoors. There is precious little “eco” in the therapy I’m currently doing as a grad school intern at a drug and alcohol treatment clinic in the suburbs — and I, my friends, am a wild creature who was not built for office, and maybe not even indoor, work. 🐺

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