That Time I was Naked in the Woods

It happened.

When I woke up that sunny, summer morning I didn't know that at some point that day I'd be naked in the middle of nowhere, covered in bug bites and trying not to drown in a muddy river.

24 HOURS BEFORE NAKED DRAMA

I was dealing with relationship problems which were getting worse. (Don't worry, I'm better now and I'm happy with someone else who is super awesome!) I kept needing time away from the situation. If it had been possible, I would have spent time away from myself. One thing life doesn't let us do, right? Funny that we are eternally stuck in our own company. A friend saw my need to get out and about, inviting me out to a park of wilderness and natural springs.

In Florida, especially where I was, it's all about water. It's everywhere. Every type of H2O form there can be, it's there. Swamps, bayous, pools, ponds, lakes, creeks, gulf, brackish, hurricanes, water funnels, torrential rainfall...I swear, there's water lingering in the air. The humidity is so high that I could straightened my hair and step outside for instant curls. Fruit rotted by the time I got home. Mold is a real issue for everyone. Spiders swim. Side note: going from there to Canada was a shock to my skin. I'm basically bathing in lotion everyday.

The most interesting form of water there were the natural spring waters. Fresh, cold, clean water from deep, deep underground eventually finds the surface and bubbles up, making lovely springs to swim in. We decided to visit one in the middle of nowhere, because nothing could possibly go wrong.

MORNING OF NAKED SITUATION

My friend, her toddler, and I packed into a truck with snacks, drinks, towels, and a map, The first leg of the trip was driving for a bit on normal roads. I don't remember how long, perhaps an hour...I think more like a couple of hours. Later events take over my memory collection of that day, so who knows.

We spent time talking and laughing and reflecting on life. Our friendship is non-existent these days, but at the time we were close. A couple of years later I would fade out of her life, bearing no ill will to her, but deciding for myself that I can't be a part of her life. She's awesome and it's difficult to explain. I miss her. She's a great listener and great at being with someone in the moment. She was being a great friend for me. This adventure was supposed to be a fun, relaxed time for all three of us.

T-MINUS ZERO TO NAKED

We get a little confused trying to find the spring and are driving pretty deep into woods and mud paths. We were close to the spring when we drive past prison-workers without a guard. Several men were working on something in the middle of the woods with only a port-a-potty and tools. Neither of us are the judging type, but we'd rather not be in the woods alone with strangers. We both decide to not care unless it becomes an issue. Little did I know, it was foreshadowing to the tone of the day: surprise!

The spring was tucked away in a large, group camping area with a picnic bench deep in pine tree forest. The shade was cool, but the air was still hot from new summer sun. It smelled like trees and dirt; I was in heaven. The spring was larger than I had imagined. It was probably more than 20 feet wide in some places and several feet deep in a few spots. 

We had forgotten about the rain from days before.

For those who are more city-folk than country-folk, rain changes bodies of water. They can get super muddy and even dangerous. The spring was so muddy it was impossible to see into the water. The current was swift and strong. 

"We're strong swimmers!" we said. None of us brought swimsuits, but being women alone in the woods just means swimming in the skinny. This is when things turn for the crazy. Keep in mind, I'm white as the moon. Seriously, I glow in the dark. The Florida sun was shining off my white skin like a reflector. Perhaps that's how the demons found me.

Standing in the nude several feet from the water I was attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes. For those who don't know what a mosquito is...it's the devil spawn of hell. Mosquitoes activate my darkside, turning me into a lord of darkness bent on world domination and complete annihilation of all things mosquitoes. Think Kylo Ren from Star Wars. If I was a bard retelling the story to drunk warriors by a hearth, I'd say 10,000 demon blood suckers swarmed us and we fled to the water for our lives.

You know how sometimes you enter natural water with caution because it's so cold? You stand in it waist-deep for a minute and wait until you're more comfortable? You giggle about how cold it is and splash your friends because you all are making funny faces?

I ran into the cold water and dived in like a polar bear who'd been living in the Sahara for ten years. Fear of cold was silenced by blood-sucking biters. My thought was, "ArrrRRrrggGgGGghhHhHH!"

IT GETS WORSE

Now, two adult women and a small child are in underworld cold water bear butt and covered in bites. Don't worry...the ice muddy water blunted the pain at that point...but we're moving...? I tilt my head as I notice the shore is moving away.

The current is strong. At least, both of us being optimists, we smile and say things like, "Oh, the current is fast" and "it's been awhile since I swam last". Then panic sets in as we're trying to swim. I try to swim across the spring to no avail. Keep in mind I'm a natural swimmer. I don't have amazing form or anything like that. I can't dive right most of the time, but I feel at home in the water. A good current though and I'm helpless. I'm only part-mermaid. My Viking learned that in the gulf last year...that's another story.

Anyway, I try to swim across the spring to the other shore. Nope. I lower my standards to a large branch sticking out in the water. Nope. I lower my standards more, aiming for a root. Nope. Okay, perhaps just not get swept away? Nope. Every muscle is working to just not float away. The toddler is climbing unto her mother's head. I hadn't thought about how her work was even harder and I move to help. The child now goes back and forth between us as we try to stay afloat.

We're fighting the current in cold water, naked and afraid of biting demons. We try to make the best of it and are eventually like...This is not what I imagined or hoped. I am not relaxed.

There was actually a moment I started to worry. Legitimate fear crept in and started to imagine myself on a shore miles down the spring with no clothes. 

After a long struggle, we managed to grab roots and pull back onto shore, climbing up a muddy curve into demon biter land again. We rushed to the car, put on the clothes quick as wit, and sat in the truck. I felt gross, tired, winded, wet, and itchy. I had hoped for a relaxing, meditative day in the water and I'm sure my friend did, too. I wasn't angry or sad, just thinking, Well, that just happened.

POST DEMON LORD WATER TORTURE SITUATION

The outing still helped my mental state, as I was dreaming often about drowning. That's yet another story for another day, but this unexpected event taught me something. That day and over the span of two years I learned something weird about me that I still don't understand fully. For some reason, no matter how grim the situation is, I don't quit. Sometimes to a fault, so it's a not brag. There are times I should quit and be swept away. I'm still learning, but I'm glad to know I have grit. Swimming in muddy water in the woods isn't an example of my grit, but it was a tiny moment of my stubbornness. 

I SAY ALL THAT TO SAY THIS

I used a funny story that happened to me to mention something else...

Depression is like drowning. We don't expect a drowning person to save their own life, why do we expect someone suffering from depression to save their own life alone? Change my story...what if it had been the small child alone? Or just the mother and child without me to help? Or just me, plus lost in the woods and injured? Also, telling someone to "suck it up and deal with it" is like telling a naked, injured person drowning in a river to help himself. Uh, not possible.

When someone is suffering from depression, their brain cells are releasing chemicals (summed up in layman terms) that affect their whole body. In some cases, the brain cells are doing this without reason - as in there's a natural chemical imbalance in the body and it's not that person's fault. Even if the depression is caused by an outside force, like something horrible happening to the person, we should reach out like a root in the river for them to hold on to, help them back to the shore. 

People don't walk into depression willing, just like I didn't walk into a mosquito swarm and fast river with the intent to suffer. Sure, people could try to argue that I should have brought insect repellent or a swimsuit or just not gotten into the water...

Some people don't have access to mental health care. We don't choose our life, our body, or our brain. Besides that, people make mistakes. Should they suffer endlessly because we feel better just standing there and not helping? Why wouldn't you want to help someone?

Spin off from some of my favorite quotes...if you're not helping people, what are you doing? I'm not wanting anyone to feel guilty, just understand that depression is real and we all can help.

If you see someone fighting the current, reach out.

If you're having a bad day, just picture a nerdy girl glowing white in the pine forest running from a swarm of bugs into ice cold water. I may or may not have been screaming.

SOME SOURCES

If you have any problems with these sources or have better suggestions, let me know! 

http://depressionhurts.ca/en/default.aspx

http://psychcentral.com/lib/where-to-get-help-for-depression/

https://www.beyondblue.org.au/who-does-it-affect/men/depression-in-men

http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/teen-depression/index.shtml

http://www.postpartumprogress.com/ppd-support-groups-in-the-u-s-canada

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

http://www.suicide.org/hotlines/international/canada-suicide-hotlines.html

http://www.ifred.org/

Wa-Wa

Look Up at the Sky Day

According to some calendars, it's "Look up at the Sky" Day. As it happened I did look up at the sky today. It was a solid blue, the shade of a robin's egg with no clouds. It was sunny and chilly, but in the nice spring-is-coming way.

Looking at the sky is actually a personal worldview check-in for me. During a particularly lonely time in my life I felt hopeless. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone. There's loneliness. There's helplessness. Then there's hopelessness. It's one of the worst feelings ever, because the person experiencing it no longer has the desire to reach out or believe in anything. It's a dangerous place to be.

I was sitting on the steps outside of where I lived, wrapped in a thick coat and trying to find the stars in the night sky...but it was cloudy! My temporary mood lifter of brilliant stars across an inky sky was denied to me by thick, dark clouds. I was angry and saddened...at first.

Then a break in the clouds revealed a few stars for a moment. Something lit up inside of me that day that I haven't lost since. First, I realized that even though I couldn't see them, the stars were still there. Every day, all day. Even when I couldn't see the light, it was still there. Second, I felt small because the sky didn't need me. The stars didn't care if I saw them or not. One could think that would be a bad thing, yet it was freeing. The universe is going to work if I'm there or not...as in I can't break the universe if I make a mistake.

That's what I tell people when they're confused or scared. That's what I tell myself before an adventure or a big decision. That's what I tell people dealing with guilt...

You can't break the universe. 

You're free to make mistakes, change your mind, be confused, or spend a day feeling absolutely unproductive. 

So, look up at the sky and search for the light...it's there.

They Told Me Not to Make Art

The walls and floors of the art department gallery were all off white. My charcoal drawings were on newspaper featuring sketches of different models in various poses. The final was a colored chalk drawing on black paper. I've since lost it over the years, but it was actually decent. It looked like a sad Van Gogh wearing a santa hat. It sort of just happened.

The figure drawing teacher looked over my humble portfolio in silence. After what felt like eternity during which I didn't know what to do with myself but stand awkwardly, he finally made a noise. Then he asked, "What's your major?"

"Art," I replied.

He made another sound. "You should change majors," he said then walked away.

I cleaned up my art, guessing the final review of the semester was finished. I packed up my locker and exited the art department glass door into the Texas heat. Texas is either skin-bleeding hot or pierce your soul cold. Especially when crossing the bridge near Blue Mound exit in Fort Worth. I swear the wind wanted to make cars fly.

At my car, which at the time was a piece of miraculous shit. The first mechanic to see under the hood laughed...then said, "how is it still driving." The hood was the wrong color red and the last owner put random stickers on the back window referring to things I didn't know. The stickers attracted skater guys who would notice the stickers, then me, then hang out in the college parking lot with me showing me skater tricks. I tried to skate a few times only to set off car alarms. Anyway, I assume the stickers referred to skater stuff.

After putting my portfolio in the truck of the red Ford Escort and sat in the driver seat, I stared at the lake near the school, probably playing the newest angry/sad rock song on my "fancy" six-disc CD player (there's another great story).

Change your major, repeated in my head. Great, I thought, I still suck at life.

Art Plus Psychology Equals Art Therapy

Later that year, after about two years of being an art major, I switched to psychology. I had taken a psychology class for an elective. First day in class my thought was, I love this shit. I think about this stuff already. You mean it's a job?!

That teacher was a lot friendly and approachable. He was also more positive and put up with my various psychology student phases. Like the Psychology Student Disorder, related to General Disorder Disorder, and Medical Student Disorder. We've all done it. WE'VE ALL DONE IT.

I've started Googling Psych student memes and can't stop.

(Turns out I do in fact have ADHD, though. A psychiatrist diagnosed me within 30 minutes. That's another story.)

I digress.

Me:  "If only I could put art and psychology together!"

Teacher: "You can! It's called art therapy!"

Me: *mind blown*

Needless to say, I decided to pursue a degree in psychology even though in the States art therapy is still widely considered an art degree. One of my smart life choices! In Canada and finally the rest of the States, it's becoming more of a psychology degree. The art therapy schools here want you to have a psychology degree. Sweet deal for me.

Here's the kicker. I didn't stop making art. I pulled a straight up Van Gogh. Multiple teachers told me not to continue on the path, but I did any way. Along the way there were positive art teachers who were like, "Screw them, you're doing fine."

After fearing I messed up an assignment in an art history class, I asked the teacher what I could do for my grade. She replied, "You're the only student taking this class seriously. You're one of my best students. You're fine."

Several years later, guess what? My art makes money. My art empowers me. My art enriches my life. My teaches me lessons. My art reveals. My art relaxes. My art is ever changing.

I don't know what crawled into that one art teacher's pencil box and died, but it was unnecessary to discourage a student thus. I was 18 years old, new to the state, and it's not like it was an art program where you had to come in knowing the craft. Anyone could join. A more beneficial process would have been to suggest ways I could improve and compliment what I was doing right. I know because I also teach.

Most of my work, as life directed it, has been with children. I doubt he'd be impressed with the scribbles of a toddler. I love the scribbles of a toddler. I've had to learn deciphering of said scribbles and help the child grow their mad skill. What point do you tell someone not to keep tying? Never. I will not look a toddler in the face and say, "You suck at drawing, you should try something else."

Everyone "sucks" in the beginning. Every chef began with a failed attempt. Every baker has experienced the burnt cake. Every successful writer has tossed away bad writing hoping no one will ever see it ever. We all start somewhere.

People will try to boss you around or redirect your life. They'll tell you what to do. Sure, I did change majors, but because I wanted to. You have to live the consequences of your choices, so do what's going to make you happy. Besides, they could be wrong.


This is why I relate to Vincent van Gogh and why he's one of my favorite artists. People told him to stop. People weren't buying his art. He had every excuse to stop, but did not.

Gogh - Starry Night

(I had some videos right here, but I moved them to a special page called "Smile" on the main navigation bar. Easier to read blog posts that way.)

At the end of the day, I'm just saying to don't give up. Sometimes people may not be impressed with you or whatever you're doing, but you must keep trying. Success happens at the end of mistakes.