The Crazy Idea That Wouldn't Leave Me Alone

So, I'd decided I wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail.

Alone.

For approximately seven months.

Looking back, I can understand why that might have raised a few eyebrows. 😊

But at the time, there was something about the idea that just felt right.

I'd spent years feeling as though so much of my life was outside my control. I was emotionally exhausted, disconnected from myself, and questioning my abilities in just about every area of my life.

I wanted to do something that was entirely mine.

Something that would challenge me physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Something where I could make my own decisions, navigate my own challenges, and discover whether I could truly rely on myself.

And I knew from the beginning that I wanted to do it solo.

That part wasn't negotiable for me.

It wasn't that I didn't love the people in my life or value companionship. I simply felt an incredibly strong need to have this experience on my own terms.

So I started sharing my idea.

Initially, nobody outwardly opposed it.

Great! I thought. I could get started.

And that's exactly what I did.

I began researching, planning, and preparing for what would undoubtedly be one of the biggest adventures of my life.

But it wasn't long before the concerns started rolling in.

Family members and friends began expressing their opposition, particularly about my decision to hike alone.

And I was frustrated.

Actually, frustrated might be putting it mildly.

Here I was, already questioning myself more than anyone else possibly could, and now I was hearing concerns from the people around me, too.

I understood that people were worried. Hiking alone in the wilderness comes with real risks, and those concerns weren't entirely unreasonable.

But there was another part of me that felt angry.

I needed to believe I could do this.

I needed the opportunity to find out what I was capable of without having that decision made for me.

And if anything, the opposition made me even more determined.

So I dug my heels in.

But I didn't just dig my heels in and hope for the best.

I prepared.

I earned certifications in wilderness first aid and survival. I read and studied every book I could get my hands on. I researched the realities of long-distance hiking and worked to develop the knowledge and skills I'd need.

I wanted to take the risks seriously. I wanted to be responsible for my own safety.

And I wanted to know that when challenges arose, I had prepared myself to navigate them.

But there was another kind of preparation happening, too.

One that, looking back, was just as important as everything I was learning about the wilderness.

I started asking myself some difficult questions.

Was I really doing this because I wanted to reconnect with myself?

Or was I trying to run away?

Was the Appalachian Trail becoming an escape from the difficult emotions, strained relationships, and years of experiences I hadn't fully processed?

I couldn't ignore those questions.

So, alongside my physical preparations and wilderness education, I found a therapist & coach.

I committed to intensive weekly therapy and coaching for the parts and areas that needed additional support.

I began unpacking some of the experiences and emotions I'd tucked away while trying to navigate everything life had thrown at me.

Some of those boxes had been closed for a long time.

And opening them wasn't necessarily comfortable.

But I knew I didn't want to carry everything onto the trail without first taking the time to understand what I was carrying.

That work gave me an opportunity to process some of the deeper emotions and experiences that had shaped the previous several years.

And gradually, something began to shift.

I could approach the Appalachian Trail less as a way to get away from my life and more as an opportunity to reconnect with myself.

I still wanted the challenge.

I still wanted the solitude.

I still wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of navigating something extraordinary on my own.

But I was also beginning to understand that there was more to this journey than accomplishing a physical goal.

I needed space.

Space away from the constant demands and expectations.

Space to listen to myself.

Space to remember who I was beneath the roles I'd been filling for so long.

And perhaps most importantly, space to begin discovering what it would mean to show up for myself with the same dedication I'd spent years giving to everyone else.

I didn't know exactly what that would look like.

I didn't know what I'd discover.

And despite all my preparation, I certainly wasn't free from self-doubt.

But I kept moving forward.

One book. One skill. One therapy session. One somatic practice. One decision at a time.

Until eventually, the idea that had started during one of the most difficult periods of my life was no longer just an idea.

I was actually going to hike the Appalachian Trail.

Alone.

And I was ready.

Well, nervous and excited and ready.

All at the same time.

To be continued…

Next in the series: Chapter Three, "Preparing for More Than a Hike"

With love and a little trail dust,

Kristina

← Read Chapter One: When I Realized I’d Lost MySelf