CAMPING RECONSIDERED

Regular readers and anyone who asks, or doesn't, since I'm not shy about sharing in spite of no interest (LOL), know that camping is not my thing.  However, since Hub and I have been hanging out together for over 50 years, I've done A LOT of camping because it definitely IS his thing and I've gone along cuz: 1) I love him; 2) I like the idea of camping;  3) I thought if I kept trying, I'd learn to like it; 4) I wanted our boys to have camping experiences; 5) nature is pretty.

But a few years ago I stopped going.  I decided I was not going to learn to love it.  So Hub went alone, several times each summer (and of course during snowboard season, when he also stays in his cozy camper on some trips.)  He thoroughly enjoys his nature getaways -- long and challenging hikes, kayaking on lakes, gazing into his campfires, his solitude to do as he pleases in his own timeframe, no one else to consider, etc. etc.  I was fine staying at home, but resentment started to set in as well.  I'm not proud of this, but it's a longer story with lots of moving parts.  Suffice to say, we decided last year that I'd go on one or two camping trips with him each summer.  I went once last year.  It went well.  This year we've had so many home projects and truck issues that had to get resolved before he could load up the truck camper, that one trip was all we could schedule.  We went last week.

Mt. Rainier in summer is one of my favorite places to go.  It is so breathtakingly beautiful.  The campground where we stay is quiet, no hook-ups, rarely any rowdies or kids on bikes; just lots of hikers and quiet-seekers, like us. I still went with some hesitation.  I've convinced myself that I "hate" camping.  Even after last year, when the outing turned out OK, I still wasn't convinced.  So this year I decided to keep an almost hour by hour journal of what I "like" and what I "dislike" about camping, to try to find some objectivity.  It was instructive.

What I discovered is that I like being with Hub; I like being in beautiful places; I like that it was warm and sunny this time; I like all the hikes we did (moderate, not too challenging, but beautiful forest trails and views of the mountain); I like the relative perks of the camper -- warm and dry and sorta like a real "house" with lots of amenities. (toilet! shower! lights run from a solar panel!)  I definitely would not sleep in a tent and live at the picnic table!

What I don't like and which overshadows almost everything else is being uncomfortable.  This physical discomfort sensitivity is only one characteristic of being (it's a real thing, confirmed by my therapist) a Highly Sensitive Person.  I can go from "too hot" to "too cold" in seconds.  My body feels every fluctuation, both internally (aches and palpitations) and externally (lumpy pillows and itchy bug bites).  You get the idea. Nothing escapes my sensitivity meter.  And camping is not exactly an activity that creates comfort.  I was uncomfortable a lot!

The camper, while "cozy" is also cramped, with not enough storage space apparently, so that in short order every surface was cluttered with gear and clothing and dishes.  Visual chaos disturbs me; also things always in the way. 

I absolutely hate campfire smoke.  It will find me no matter where I sit/stand.  Thankfully Hub agrees with me on this, although he is more tolerant than I.  He now uses a propane fire ring for his campfire experiences even when on his own.  I know, it's burning fossil fuel, but it's instead of breathing in woodsmoke particulate matter, getting a sore throat, and stinking like a smoke jumper, so there's that.  I'd personally forgo the the whole fire thing completely, and have.  I just go inside at night like any sensible person, but for the S'mores this trip.  Each night I made one, ate it, and retired inside to my Kindle.

Plus, so much gear!  And logistical hassles.  I really hate that.  Why must I pack up a bunch of stuff that is much more conveniently located in my big beautiful house in order to drive it all to a new location in the woods?  We have woods here, and a fire ring, and beautiful gardens, and views of water and mountains and day hikes within easy driving distance!  Plus, we have more privacy at home -- neighbors at campsites are much closer and "in my space" than my neighbors in our neighborhood.  While we have all of that, it is in the heart of the city, so it's a more citified "nature" I guess.  I do get the idea of a "getaway".  I just prefer convenience.

And yet...what surprisingly came out Top Three on my "like" list were: 1) sharing the experience with Hub cuz I love him, as previously mentioned, and still true; 2) the hikes we did (which is shocking to note, since I also have traditionally hated hiking, but I've found my sweet spot with that in terms of distance and challenge and I loved it!); 3) no phone/no computer -- it felt great to be out of cell/WiFi range and have no idea what was happening anywhere but where I was.

I still don't think I'll be adding camping to my "must do"/"can't wait" summer fun list.  But I do think it's reasonable to go once/twice a season to get away, to see and do new things, to be in closer proximity to activities like hiking and kayaking, which are easier to access without the hassle of a commute to get there and back in one day's timeframe.

I guess camping, like life, is full of some "dislikes" one must endure to get to the "likes" that can sometimes compensate. There were way more "dislikes" in my journal, and yet, sitting here now I am recalling the closeness I shared with Hub;  the spectacular views of Rainier; the quiet private place we found to hang out at one trail's end completely alone together with a huge view of Rainier and wildflowers surrounding us; the cooling air we found after a hot hike, sitting on the edge of the rushing glacial melt White River; the hikes through the forest, at times challenging, but beautiful and peaceful.  It was worth some "dislikes", this time, to make those memories.  I'll try to recall that next year when Hub gets the camping bug again.

At least, that's the view from here...©

50 YEARS AND COUNTING: AN EXAMINED MARRIAGE

Hub and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary in July.  We went away to our favorite local waterfront resort for 4 days. It was perfect except for me just getting over Covid and dealing with exhaustion and a nagging cough.  Still, I was able to go for a short 2 mile waterfront walk on our trip, a kayak paddle trip across the bay to go to lunch at a fave restaurant, had a couple restaurant dinners on the deck at water's edge watching the sunset, and long, long talks sitting in our beach chairs reminiscing, reviewing, renewing, and planning for the future.

The day after we got home we welcomed our family -- adult sons, their wives, the grandkids (and dogs) -- who planned all the food, prepped it, brought lawn games, and wrote speeches to toast us after Hub and I gathered everyone on the patio.  We sat facing them in a semi-circle around us, not to renew any vows, but to share with each other, witnessed by our family, the words we'd written to each other to reflect upon our marriage and of how much we look forward to continuing to learn and grow and love together.  Everyone was in tears as the last toast was offered. Our sons and daughters-in-law said the most beautiful affirming things to us.  I couldn't have asked for a more perfect honoring of our 50 years.

50 years married. 54 together counting dating.  53 subtracting the troubled year we lived apart, but not divorced, early in our marriage.  But we are going with the traditional 50.  This will not be the exhaustive, definitive analysis of our marriage because who can do that?  It's a long time.  Still, this will be a long post with highlights of the past five decades.  Forewarned.

1968-1972: We met in high school.  We were kids.  We were in love, in lust, in flux.  Decisions were made without thought or intention, on auto-pilot.  There were break ups, drama, craziness.  We got married, he 22 and me 21.  We "acted" like grown ups, working, going to school, trying to figure what we wanted in our life together, something we'd never really discussed.  We were in a life together that seemed to surprise us at times...You?  What are YOU doing here?  

1973-1980: Hub got into medical school, we moved from our conservative home town to Chicago -- a big, international smorgasboard of never-before-known-to-us delights and opportunities.  We started to pull in opposite directions, neither of us truly understanding how to be responsible adults one minute and grab the gusto of every option and experience the next. It was an intense time of individual change in ways that would come to define us still today.  But at the time?  Let's say it didn't go smoothly.  At all.  (That year of living apart was precipitated by some very bad behavior.  I leave it at that.)  But somehow we persevered.  An earthquake of change shook us, but we were still standing, in some ways stronger than ever.

1980-1982: We left Chicago, our families and friends and all we'd ever known, and moved to the east coast.  A new life and new experiences awaited there.  It was only for two years, but it was an important time of cutting ties to everything familiar and clinging to each other as we made our way in new chapter.  We felt like we'd landed in paradise, living 2 blocks from the Atlantic ocean on a barrier island near Charleston SC.  We made lots of new friends, learned to love oysters, shared everything together with freedom, joy, and a lot of work for Hub as he began to build his career.  I mostly went to school and the beach.

1982-1985: Moving to our current home meant really buckling down into adulthood.  Hub had a real doctor job in a real clinic.  We bought a real home, in an old established neighborhood with a killer view.  We were alone together, excited but disoriented, until we slowly found our way to making a few friends and figuring out a whole new culture in this Pacific Northwest part of America, which couldn't be more different from Illinois or South Carolina.  

1985-2010: Kids.  Now there's a change.  For us it wasn't easy.  Unexplained infertility was our challenge.  We finally decided we just wanted to be parents, not reproduce our genetic history.  We chose to adopt through a new and groundbreaking program where birthmothers experiencing an unplanned pregnancy could choose the parents for her child by reviewing portfolios submitted by hopeful couples.  We were chosen.  Son One joined us and life turned upside down with joy, exhaustion, and complete commitment to family life.  Two years later we did it again, and Son Two became part of our growing family.  We tried again three years later -- it was not to be.  We were chosen, but at the last minute the birthmother changed her mind.  We were disappointed, but agreed we were complete with our boys.  In retrospect, it's as it should have been. Our family is perfect.  But childrearing is not for the faint of heart.  

Hub was 100% devoted to his career; I was 100% devoted to home and kids.  We each tried to carve out time for each other and family time, on top of  kids, school, jobs, volunteer commitments, home chores and projects, a social life, occasional trips, the daily stress of trying to do it all.  Not enough hours in the day, short tempers, exhaustion, differences in opinions and values  and appetites, resentments, misunderstandings.  We were also working together to create a loving home, family memories, solid values, and varied experiences for our kids.  None of it was easy; much of it was joyful. And all of it was done together.  Our commitment to each other still stood, even if some days there was still that thought...You?  What are YOU doing here?  

2010-2022: The kids grew up (now there's an understatement -- we had to get through some very challenging times to get to that stage!), graduated college, got jobs, left home.  Hub retired (again, huge understatement about the ups and downs of a long and stressful career). I had pursued a later-in-life career in social work, then I retired too.  We both saw our mothers through the challenges and heartaches of older age and dementia.  But within the past 10 or so years, our sons found amazing women to love, got married; grandkids came into our lives.  Circle of life.  

NOW: Here's what I know today:  Every single age and stage of this marriage has been examined.  We've learned to know each other deeply, with help from some very intense personal growth work (both individually and together) that healed old childhood issues, helped us see the "real" in each other and the "why" behind our individual behaviors and values and world views.  We went to counseling when we got really stuck, open to the "I don't know" vulnerability of finding our way through thickets of anger and confusion to emerge into a clearing filled with possibility.

Every morning now we sit with our coffee and talk together, not just about what to have for dinner or where to go on vacation or which light bulb needs replacing, but REALLY talk about about our hopes, fears, anxieties, stresses.  "How are you today?  What's up for you?"  Absolutely nothing, nothing, is off limits.  We've learned that stuffing feelings, keeping secrets, and harboring resentments only leads to disaster. We offer understanding, support, encouragement, help, feedback, our own truth, holding space for the other to vent, cry, talk through a problem, or share an insight, celebrate a joy.  This can take 10 minutes or 2 hours.  But we make it work, however long it takes.  It's that important.

Big issues still arise and they can seem overwhelming and daunting, but we have never given in or given up -- at least not for long.  Even when all has felt hopeless, there are tools in the toolbox to work the problem, and hope has been renewed. We've learned to say "You're right", "I hear you", "I'm sorry" when it would be easier to dig into a defensive posture and each hold our ground.  We've learned to set boundaries, to open up completely in the most emotionally vulnerable ways, and to trust that anger, tears, misunderstandings, even betrayals can be avenues to new understanding and growth, eventually.

We've learned to keep loving.  And maybe that has always been the glue.  We don't really know why we are still standing together after 50+ years.  There have been ample opportunities and temptations to just call it quits.  But speaking the same personal growth language and being willing to really listen and change have served us well.  So, here we are.  We are incredibly proud of the marriage we've created.

"You?  What are YOU doing here?" Just loving, just loving, just loving...and learning to keep making a life together that feels better than ever.  Grateful. 🙏🏽

At least, that's the view from here...©