I ended August with an adventure that I had not planned on: a backpacking trip with Jenn and a group of wonderfully badass women. It was just one night in Jefferson Park here in Oregon. And although it sounds quite simple – hike in 5.5 miles, pitch tent, sleep on ground, then hike out 5.5 miles – I became profoundly anxious after I agreed to go.

This was my first backpacking trip and I didn’t know if I could hike with a 28 pound pack on my back. I was intimidated by the task and made it worse with self-criticism because I didn’t want to hold up the group or make some unknown backpacking blunder.

I worked myself up in my mind to the point of making myself pretty sick a few days before. So, of course, I added that to my reasons why I couldn’t do it. Then I remembered myself. I remembered that I am highly trained at this point in my personal development and I have a CHOICE. I can walk around telling a false story of: “I have anxiety and I can’t do this.” Or, if I like making up stories so much, why don’t I say, “I am strong and brave. This is the adventure I have been waiting for.”

As soon as I changed the story in my brain, the knots in my stomach started to subside and I went to the store to purchase some Gas-X to make sure I wouldn’t be facing problems on the trail. I packed my supplies and made some food then got a few hours of sleep before the 5 a.m. alarm.

Jenn and I set out that morning with our friend Kristina for the trailhead about 2 hours away. We would hike in and meet our other friends who had gone in the night before to scout a campsite. As you may know, the wilderness has seen a major uptick in visitors as our cities have become less desirable places to hangout and campsite accommodations are slim pickings. (All of my friends in the Adirondacks know the perils of city folk flocking to the mountains.)

After I steadied my nerves and my legs (I nearly tipped over when I put my backpack on). We set off on our trek. Immediately, the Universe sent me a sign that all was to be well: We passed a dog on the trail who was a German Shepherd named Rufus. When I was little, we had a German Shepherd named Rufus, so this was all the comfort I needed to know I could do this.

Thankfully, the incline was gentle and I only needed one snack to get through the hike in. We met our group and settled in alongside a lake at the base of Seekseekqua (its Native American name) also called Mount Jefferson.

We took a very brisk dip into the lake. For me, I just splashed in quickly then ran out again. My friend Jess (who is from Oregon) insists that the lake was warm. I vow to take her to Florida and get her in the ocean in August so she can finally know what warm water feels like.

Then we all bundled up and ate our dinner by the lake and took about 1,000 photos of ourselves at sunset. Right here I want to pause and acknowledge that we were perhaps “annoying” to the other people around the lake enjoying the sunset. But as I said there and I will say now, “We paid good money to be here.”

And I mean that. Each of us has paid real money, blood, sweat, tears, and long hours at work to get to this point of our lives to this dream that we were realizing right before our eyes. So, I am going to laugh and take pictures and be annoying because I was not going to allow my critical inner voice or the disdainful glances of strangers (who don’t know how much I truly paid to be there) steal my joy.

At the end of January, I packed up my life in San Diego on the hope that this dream was waiting for me. This dream of being in the wilderness with people I could be myself with, with people who love the same things I do, with people who dream REAL DAMN BIG. I am living my dreams right now and I am so grateful to these women for being part of my dream. I didn’t know who you were before I got here and you have exceeded my every wish. Thank you for making this August magical.

I could end this post right here, but I want to brag about the fact that Natalia lead us out of the wilderness at a blistering speed of 1 hour and 47 minutes. I don’t think I will ever be nervous about my physical strength again.