tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25637682730839974812024-03-14T01:28:11.210-07:00|-Look up-Stand still-Breathe-|Quinn.Brett.climbing.well-being.laughter.Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-72413030246500810162020-05-15T09:49:00.004-07:002020-05-15T11:05:13.462-07:00Grief and Blame<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I still haven’t resolved the days or weeks leading up to Yosemite in 2017.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I blame myself. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">In my youth, I didn’t felt comfortable- or learn an appropriate way— to express my needs verbally.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I do remember my dad saying something like, “if you don’t like the way we discipline you, speak up” or “ask why,” but I feared I would be criticized, joked at or didn’t want to raise a stink.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was already a cryer, good or bad, compliment or critique.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I cried.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many jokes about how I have cried in every National Park. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I didn’t like the critical attention.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My coping skills took me to my bedroom.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would talk out loud, voicing frustration, unfairness, anger, sadness to my pillow or papered walls.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I aged, journaling became a less noticeable flare-up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I learned to let things slide—- to a point.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My personal tipping point.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As an adult, this tipping point is where friends, lovers, even parents, on occasion, would experience my sudden exasperation of incoherent emotion-thought, with a rushed and louder voice. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">As a child, I also struggled with body image.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think most folks have/do.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I grew up with family members who are overweight, a mom who pointedly struggles with it herself and a dad who would repeatedly poke jest in obesities direction.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My dad was playful, so his remarks were indirect asides, re-writing and jokingly performing of tv theme songs etc.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think my mothers weight concerns, dads jokes, societal trends, my innate personality and my communication fear/barrier combined for no one to take full blame.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just a realization I have had since my late 20’s.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The pervasive need to “earn” my beer or ice cream through cardio-exercise. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TLc-JdzEwD4/Xr7Drd5vVBI/AAAAAAAAEEQ/TLn6BpShxN0-s44tPhTHRLTe_5yvFRa_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/20171010-_MG_1914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TLc-JdzEwD4/Xr7Drd5vVBI/AAAAAAAAEEQ/TLn6BpShxN0-s44tPhTHRLTe_5yvFRa_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/20171010-_MG_1914.jpg" width="266" /></a><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I was working on appreciating myself, my body, my gifts, my faults — the roundness of me since I finally opened my eyes, again at a very slow late 20’s.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Andrew’s death enlightened some more flaws, followed by the unfortunate downward spiral this next relationship and I found ourselves in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For about a year, he wanted out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At first I was amendable to him moving out, taking space.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When it didn’t happen, we found ourselves battling for our own stances, our own versions requesting “love me, respect me.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Working together, living together—- too much in your face time --it became unhealthy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I was afraid to speak up for myself in a direct and compassionate manner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was afraid of it ending.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> I was afraid to look deeper, hard in the mud. </span>I was impatient with myself, impatient with him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Afraid but why? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">For months prior to my injury, I often felt hurt, blamed, bitchy, conflicted, defensive, confused… all the things you feel when love and communication are not clear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My memory and perspective is relevant to my experiences and upbringing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">He the same.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Neither is wrong.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have never felt that he was wrong to feel or express his hurt, anger, frustrations, and sadness towards our relationship, towards my accident. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> Fuck to pile on them both. I am sorry. </span>We all swim in the water in our own way. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">My struggle is two-fold.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Having suffered a life-altering traumatic injury, hitting my head, coupled with having a dynamic family/friend ICU experience.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wasn’t me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was on pain medication, uncharted emotional, short-term memory and task oriented forgetful-land.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I feel like I am making an excuse for myself during the first nine months to a year of my existence after my injury. I feel like I pushed people away.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was dealing with an exceptional amount.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I may have looked “with it” but wasn’t sleeping, was depressed, didn’t want to be alive, confused, hurt——<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>denial, bargaining, coping.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So was he.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We don’t know as outsiders the depths of despair people wade through. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">This rant coming around to the fact, I don’t forgive myself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The work I had been doing wasn’t enough, not even close.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I focus on my failing relationship as a reason I fell, if I had spoken up, broken up, I wouldn’t have gone to Yosemite.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would have, could have trained for the running endeavors with a weepy heart. </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">It is not his fault. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I could focus on my parents and the body image shit, it is not their fault either. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I could blame social media, companies for perpetuating good-looking and success.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nope, silly. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWwd1Aa3jUw/Xr7ZlZnTHQI/AAAAAAAAEEk/uT4G0ndvDlUZ38a01SkP_8JAgSaflAxKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/WalkingKMac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWwd1Aa3jUw/Xr7ZlZnTHQI/AAAAAAAAEEk/uT4G0ndvDlUZ38a01SkP_8JAgSaflAxKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/WalkingKMac.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">It makes the most sense that I am accountable for my actions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For not honestly or more loudly expressing to Josie that my heart hurt from Hayden dying, the entire trip to Yosemite didn’t feel right because I was running away from the truth in my 4 year relationship falling apart. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I hoped for marriage, was clinging to prove I was good enough, kind enough, worthy enough of being asked the question.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am not embarrassed to say it, I want to be married.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I want the story tale question to be asked of me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I wasn’t content with the body, looking back at photos I am an idiot.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was strong and slender, even in the “pudgier times.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even now when I look at my big arms, bony ass legs and more fat layered belly squished in my wheelchair.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have a long ways to go with this work.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">After another </span>emotionally tasking climbing ranger season, I was tired.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I love my teammates but the tight, persistent and demanding dynamic could be trying.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was confused about my relationship with rock climbing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not in a good headspace. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Self-Blame.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Anyone of those phrases, said in the mirror and I wouldn’t be paralyzed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My choice to push them all aside, or down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Distraction. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">This pandemic has me at another layer of loss for distraction, similar to the year following my injury.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am not traveling.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t have a job at the moment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Friends are struggling to maintain their business’<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>or sanity in this small town. We are supposed to be socially distant anyway but that doesn't feel new to me and COVID times. Friendships, as a whole, are a can of worms since my injury.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I feel an overwhelming sense of sorrow for my friendships. Many lost. I feel lost. I still struggle. Where we are now, far far away. Am I still pushing you guys away? </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Why am I writing all this?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Writing is cathartic and when I return to reread in a few days before possibly publishing, I can sort what I mean on paper but also in my mind. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Why am I sharing it? In my haze, have I told those I love, and strangers afar, I love them, I am thankful? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> Thank you. </span> I am so incredibly grateful for the cards, the books, the chocolates, the weekly visits, the hugs, the exhausting heart-broken repetitive conversations they listened to, the moody nerve pain days and answering the “surely she is crying again” phone calls.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I know I have said it in person to them but for some reason feel it isn’t enough.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> I still feel a need to </span>convince others I am; thankful, sorry, working on being pleasant, genuine nice, mostly kind, loving, a great listener, caring, compassionate— good enough—- worthy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">This is not all them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">This is obviously is a pervasive trait that I need to still sort.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why do I need approval?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why am I so concerned with others perspective of me?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The perfectionist is resistant to forgiving myself, as I am in this obvious seated position due to my own choices, habits—- me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-68927308725359363132020-04-28T13:44:00.001-07:002020-04-28T13:44:27.887-07:00Life Long Loves Tour--- a draft just publishing now. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After returning from an 8 week adventure throughout Patagonia, I had a brilliant idea of traveling some more!!<br />
I haven't written in ages and have, in fact, opened up this blog many-a-times to write something down but I feel my thoughts swarming.<br />
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I was home--Estes Park-- for 11 weeks in 2013. <br />
The 2014 year was shaping up to be similar, as I left for a 2 month trip to Patagonia on January 3. I find myself tired from travel.<br />
I keep my schedule full of friends, full of trips, full of busy. <br />
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Am I distracting my heart from the loss of loved ones?<br />
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To remedy this, I had the brilliant idea of traveling some more...well with two intentions.<br />
One, visit the people who have infected me with their brilliance, compassion, passions, and love over the years.<br />
Two, visit those important people because time with them is often the best gift (thank you PK for that reminder). So, off I went to spend time with those that I love so dearly, those that have taken care of me through thick and thin.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKcnj2NDeMk/U1qiXeJDRpI/AAAAAAAACQ8/9hsRyncon-0/s1600/spring+fam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dKcnj2NDeMk/U1qiXeJDRpI/AAAAAAAACQ8/9hsRyncon-0/s1600/spring+fam.jpg" width="400" /></a>Estes Park to Moab to Mesa to Yucca Valley to San Diego to Groveland to Tahoe to Bend to Seattle to Nosara, CR to Bellingham to Leavenworth. <br />
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Plans, like always, altered. The convergence of the 'family' (a blend of KMAC crew/Andrew's friends) in Indian Creek had me layover for an extra 4 days. The positive support amongst one another towards all of our individual endeavors and psyche (for climbing, for fun, for being genuinely nice and caring people) is unmatched. I climbed some of my hardest Indian Creek climbs during this week, also with some of my biggest lobbers! Such a grand time. I almost on-sighted Sweden Ringle at the end of my first day! (Thank you MonKeys ---you know who you are!)<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LI9yvpjH3fI/U1qisO-sRsI/AAAAAAAACRE/q4bW2T1kYgA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LI9yvpjH3fI/U1qisO-sRsI/AAAAAAAACRE/q4bW2T1kYgA/s1600/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a>In Mesa, AZ. My mom and I went on a Great-Horned Owl hike (she knew a sneaky spot where two were nesting). After dinner, my dad and I played with his new telescope, something we did when I was a child at our lakeside cabin in Minnesota. <br />
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There was a full moon, it was neat. <br />
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My parents, always exploring- continuing the adventures with open inquisitive eyes.<br />
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In Joshua Tree, Craig, Hogan, and Erik treated me to an awful (food not company) Mexican dinner in Yucca Valley after days and days of granite crystal wrestling. These men, excellent athletes, have been a source of inspiration and possibility. You can try hard every day, with a family, with athletics, with the mind, with yourself and a little scotch goes a long way! Thank you! <br />
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Patti and I boldly plunged into the Pacific waters near San Diego for a body board session. Catching up on our 20 year friendship. Discussion has altered from the days of 2-a-day swim practices and Dairy Queen treats to married life and loosing loved ones. Her mother, a second mother to me, has alzheimers disease. It is awful to hear the diminishing of the this lovely ladies mind and body, with such hopelessness. It is remarkable to have been friends for so long---regardless of time and space to know that we love one another.<br />
"Bohemian," she looked me up and down as I arrived. Ha! I got it from her. Growing up with Patti, I was inspired to step out from under my naive roof of existence. <br />
Travel. Embarrass yourself. Try new things. Laugh. Laugh to the point of embarrassing yourself again. Repeat! Thank you Patti!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NB8H-9c9Os/U1qiWPEnxFI/AAAAAAAACQ0/sGyoJnOcQTI/s1600/Jailhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NB8H-9c9Os/U1qiWPEnxFI/AAAAAAAACQ0/sGyoJnOcQTI/s1600/Jailhouse.jpg" width="240" /></a>Matty and PK just got hitched!! So, next stop Groveland, CA. Hopes of climbing in the Valley, diminished as rain moved in. We climbed at Jailhouse instead, overhanging sport routes that are pump worthy. <br />
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I don't know Matty all that well. I do know he has a quick wit and he brings a smile to one of my favorite ladies. PK, has been a pillar of support for years. We giggle and chat simultaneously, faces turning blue when it has been too long since we have spoken. We have suffered similar losses, similar need for movement and similar haircuts and colors. This lady reminds me to be true to the important people in my life and myself. Time is one of the more <br />
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------The road trip continued north visiting my good friend Sam Piper in Truckee. We ran and caught up. Next stop was Bend, visiting and randomly dog sitting for a high school friend and fellow swim team guy Micah Vitoff. I didn't know anyone there and they were off on a trip, so I took care of their giant friendly fur and sourced out some solo mountain bike time. Time to reflect and return to a clear mind before jetting off to Leavenworth, Washington and teaching a month long Wilderness EMT course. <br />
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While there I reconnected with Jens Holsten, we met in Patagonia on Fitz Roy. I was spreading Andrews ashes on the summit, while he and his partner Chad were enjoying the journey and summit views. Chad fucking got hit in the head as they descended a different side of the mountain, we never saw him again. So, it was healing to connect with Jens on this trip and get to share my little bit of grief process. <br />
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<span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #3e454c; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , "lucida grande" , "tahoma" , "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.818181991577148px; line-height: 13.963635444641113px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"if we are always arriving and departing, it is also true that we are eternally anchored. one's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things." Henry Miller. </span></div>
Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-64150052650479405442020-03-19T14:31:00.001-07:002020-03-19T14:51:30.333-07:00Last of the Sidetracked<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>3/3 CONTINUED : I wrote this piece for a lovely little journal called Sidetracked. It contains incredible stories and beautiful photos of adventures, culture and experiences around the world. Get the June 2019 issue and you'll see the full story. </i></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">My healing process mirrors this Earthly cycle. Grief floats through the raging rapids, sinking in, jolting into boulders, dragging across shallow bottoms, all while trying to maintain an airway as it jostles across the unforeseen landscape in one piece.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I vaguely remember waking behind Texas Flake. Josie, my climbing partner, rappelled down to me. I was face down. I’d been unconscious, strewn amongst boulders. My head was bleeding. Josie rolled me over and I came to. Excruciating pain was vivid then, even though now it is a vague memory. I can’t feel my legs, I told Josie. She worked in Yosemite on their Search and Rescue team, and initiated the rescue by cell phone. Swiftly, a YOSAR helicopter flew two rescuers out to just below Josie and I. It was a delicate procedure given the sheer granite face, unpredictable winds, tiny ledges, and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>virtually no room for error.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">That notion, ‘no room for error’ – I could marinate in that for hours. I already have. I worked as a climbing ranger in Rocky Mountain National Park, similar duties and job function as those then tasked with rescuing me. I hiked around every day on the job communicating preventative safety measures with recreational visitors to the backcountry. Our crew was intended to be always available and in high-functioning physical and mental shape. Ready to bust up trail at any hour, after any exercise we might have already done, to help those with a medical emergency, wherever they may be in the Park. I coveted the daily interactions with people and the wilderness. How lucky I was to marry them both as my job.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEdxAK4vtrE/XnPj5zsfu8I/AAAAAAAAEBU/Ez2iDd-4CU8ZazK5JZeRgHW7Q0T1R5j-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/climbing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEdxAK4vtrE/XnPj5zsfu8I/AAAAAAAAEBU/Ez2iDd-4CU8ZazK5JZeRgHW7Q0T1R5j-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/climbing.jpg" width="266" /></a><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">While I evolve into acceptance, I strive to find joy and purpose. My life was brimming with it before. Before I was paralysed. Now, my brain is also paralysed at times, stuck on the spinning narratives of the past. Wishing I could run across crisp mountain summits and red desert trails. I long for a time when I can feel if my bladder is full or enjoy a slap on my backside. Golly, how about feeling an orgasm! I make bargains: for my injury to be one vertebrae lower, so I might have the use of my quadriceps and the ability to just stand up without clunky archaic full-leg braces that make me think of Forrest Gump. I have yelled at myself in private moments: 'What the fuck were you doing? Why didn’t you pay attention? Why were you even there?</span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The irony. The girl who couldn’t sit still.</span><span class="s2" style="font-family: "arial unicode ms"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">As the seasons change the river changes her voice. Summer grows and she becomes loud and obnoxious.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe she is scared as her waters spill over the bank. Fall evolves into winter and the chatter of the river quiets, its danger simmers. Fall brings romance and delicateness. Yellow leaves float down her curves. In winter, she freezes, perhaps flowing quietly under the ice. Unknowable hazards lurk there. Spring returns and she begins to swell, bellowing her growth. Year after year,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this process continues, like the process of grief. It may seem to have calmed down; I may seem to be ‘crushing life’ because I have this archaic device that allows me ‘freedom' of movement. I sit. My legs burn. While I am constantly in physical pain, my mental pain is more like the river. It ebbs and flows. Sometimes loudly exclaiming my sorrow; sometimes believing I am safe to walk across the ice in the winter only to find my foot slips in and I am back in the river’s darkness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Maybe I am crying with sadness.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe I am yelling with anger.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe I am bargaining, trying to get my damn foot out of the river, for one more muscle to work.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe I am watching the yellow aspen leaves charily floating along as I soak in beautiful fall sunlight and warmth. This will continue for the rest of my life. As the river continues to flow for eternity. As the burble in my head calms, I have more time to ponder Me. Who was I? Who am I now? Who do I want to be? When we have experienced our own death, or something like it, how do we move forward in our unexpected rebirth? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I am still a mover. I want to move my body, move my legs. My lower half will most likely never move again, without the help of science, research, awareness, the compassion of strangers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I still can't sit still, taking part in a new movement, a new way to move my body but also new way to advocate for something sitting in my own lap. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maybe, it was never the need to quell the body through physical endeavours, as I thought, I was perpetually seeking the straightest line, thinking that was the most efficient path in the mountains, in my work environment, in my relationships.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was focusing on the wrong system, the wrong shape.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was confused in my previous life, perceiving most circumstances in a linear way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Perhaps true access to that quiet mental space and focus, is to also spend some time in the chaos of the mind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After all the insecurities of my body stem from the insecurities in my mind. In this new life, a balance better serves the goal of full body appreciation. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The Earth continues to orbit the sun. The river flows downstream, ebbing and rushing, twisting and turning, but water fills its banks through the subtle process of freezing and melting. The river cycles from land to sky, feeding new life, helping the natural process of decay and renewal; carving new paths, fuelling the evolution of rebirth and death for eternity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This circle is full, all encompassing of emotion and experience.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am still on this earth and participating in the continuous cycle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I continue to breathe. I am changed, carving a new path but my head and my heart like this Earth, are still full, colourful, and rounded.</span><br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-89548037532595983492019-12-16T09:10:00.002-08:002019-12-16T09:10:21.305-08:00Sidetracked 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>2/3 CONTINUED : I wrote this piece for a lovely little journal called Sidetracked. It contains incredible stories and beautiful photos of adventures, culture and experiences around the world. Get the June issue and you can finish reading my story! </i></div>
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<i><a href="https://www.sidetracked.com/">https://www.sidetracked.com/</a></i><br />
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I am not there yet.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-39TfS7reqQs/Xfe5_oZTvBI/AAAAAAAAD8s/B3mv0hj2jZonF43nljskpEjCpzT_W-FEACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/CHeesinLawn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-39TfS7reqQs/Xfe5_oZTvBI/AAAAAAAAD8s/B3mv0hj2jZonF43nljskpEjCpzT_W-FEACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/CHeesinLawn.jpg" width="400" /></a>I am one year and a half into this new relationship with sitting.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On October of 2017, I fell while rock climbing in Yosemite National Park.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had a rope.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had a climbing partner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did not have enough gear in place and there was too much rope in the system.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I fell over 100 feet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had climbed the Nose on El Cap nearly a dozen times previously, from my virgin 3 day ascent to speed record ascents.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This day, my partner and I were intentionally climbing fast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I led the first block of the route, covering nearly 1500 feet in just over 2 hours.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fifty feet before the scheduled shift change on a feature called the Boot Flake, something happened.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My foot slipped or a hand or seemingly a combination.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My gear placements were minimal, a bolt 30 feet blow me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is one tactic people use for speed climbing this route in particular,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I usually have two pieces of gear tethered to me as I ascend, for some reason on this day, I was being more cavalier or naive or stupid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I only had one in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The distances are rough estimates.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Either way, granite zoomed upwards before my eyes as gravity took hold of my figure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My body ricocheting off a piece of rock independent from the main cliff, named Texas Flake.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I now lay nestled in a small chimney still over a 1000 feet up the almost sheer wall.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I took the fated, “unsurvivable” fall in the most horrendous of spots probably on the entire route.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMjpefX3NZI/Xfe6RT4D4vI/AAAAAAAAD80/FflUK5dYepQWRCMrq0ETFrvAPvLwvKY0QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/rivercrossing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uMjpefX3NZI/Xfe6RT4D4vI/AAAAAAAAD80/FflUK5dYepQWRCMrq0ETFrvAPvLwvKY0QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/rivercrossing.JPG" width="240" /></a><span class="s1">Every morning the wheelchair beckons for closer company.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I acquiesce, I certainly don’t want to lie in bed all day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sitting was never my plan in life, laying down certainly doesn’t compute. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My arm position my left leg over the edge of the bed and then the right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I sit up using the core muscles still available with a heavy push of planted hands and triceps.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The lower limbs, now considerably atrophied, dangle in a space unaware of their surroundings, temperature or that they are even attached to me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">The spring snow melts in my town of Estes Park, the Big Thompson increases her burble.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The hum is subtle out my bedroom window but as earth revolves giving us more daylight, the sound amplifies.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Summer breezes, snow melt fades as time passes, the swollen river simmers her proclamation, gradually.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Blue skis are common every morning but inevitably some part of the mountain range will be surrounded by afternoon dark gray storm clouds, dousing torrential rains and (susceptible to) unpredictable electrical impulses shooting out of the sky.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Booming thunder bouncing from granite gendarme to granite gendarme.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The river reacts, snug banks absorbing the surging water to her best ability.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes there is a spill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes overwhelming floods wreak havoc.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">My healing process seems similar to this earthly cycle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My grief floats through the raging rapids, sinking in, jolting into boulders, dragging across shallow bottoms, all while trying to maintain an airway as it jostles across the unforeseen landscape in one piece.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space">...................................TO BE CONTINUED..........</span></span></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-3747227731193223722019-08-01T13:21:00.002-07:002019-08-01T13:21:50.136-07:00Sidetracked Journal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Afternoon light dances and drifts as a warm breeze teases Ponderosa pine boughs. My backside</div>
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nestles comfortably into the sofa, warm laptop on my thighs. My feet are propped on my coffee</div>
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table. My backyard obsession, Longs Peak, is the cause of this glorious quagmire. I had just</div>
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spent four back-to-back days training around the many aspects of this 4,346m playground.</div>
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Running trailhead to summit, dangling on a rope to suss out the moves of its harder, vertical</div>
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face climbing routes, and joyously scampering its ridges and peaks. Red face, content heart.</div>
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Training for what, you might ask. Sitting, I would exclaim with a laugh.</div>
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The most efficient way for me to access a quiet mental space, gain focus on non-moving tasks like computer work or reading a book, is to twirl about physically until I have reached full-body fatigue. As the sofa warms and my legs find rest on this particular evening, I find myself sipping on wine planning the upcoming year’s slew of expeditions. Typing away, detailing new route possibilities on yellow cliffs in Madagascar, Googling images of unclimbed granite spires rising out of the freezing waters on Baffin Island, and giggling in conversation with Libby about the jungle tools we were going to need to machete our way in to</div>
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remote Chilean granite domes.</div>
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How quickly the simple things can disappear. The daydream subsides as sound and light shift my focus to real time, real places. The room is warm. I am shivering, buried beneath a down comforter. There is a wheelchair by my bedside. It has been there every day now for over a year.</div>
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My mood is learned indifference even with the persistent hum and electrical burning in the</div>
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lower half of my body. Perhaps I should feel something approaching love for this antiquated and neglected device that only just allows me to roll about a house, a paved lake, or out to dinner.</div>
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I am not there yet....</div>
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<i>TO BE CONTINUED : I wrote this piece for a lovely little journal called Sidetracked. It contains incredible stories and beautiful photos of adventures, culture and experiences around the world. Get the current issue and you can finish reading my story! </i></div>
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<a href="https://www.sidetracked.com/"><i>https://www.sidetracked.com/</i></a></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-11565729410603511652019-05-25T20:52:00.003-07:002019-06-09T09:48:49.280-07:00Where are you now? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Stories of my smile, stories of my frown.<br />
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I haven't written in awhile. I have been working on an article for a beautiful publication <a href="https://www.sidetracked.com/"><i>Sidetracked</i>, </a>so while I have been writing in my days it has been mostly editing. This morning I needed to journal but I am traveling in Bend, OR and did not bring my journal. We will see where this goes.....<br />
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I traveled quite a bit before my injury. While I did live and work in Estes Park steadily mid-April to the end of the September, I still found myself flying to somewhere else almost once a month. July was probably the only month I didn't leave Estes Park for years. Crazy to think about. It didn't seem so exhausting back then, sometimes if I worked a clinic over my days off with the Park and had a later flight home with work at 7am the next morning, I would be tired but it was easier to recoup. Running in the mountains, averaging 30-60 miles a week was normal.<br />
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After injury I find I am pooped. There is more planning involved, constant burning in my legs and the effort of this smaller muscle group that supports my mobility. Arms!<br />
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.......Well, per usual I got distracted. It's a week later from the paragraphs above. It a was a lovely week in Bend but back to some emotion here in Estes. Trying to sort patience and contentedness. When will I have either of those qualities?<br />
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I arrived in Bend, stoked to spend a week of nordic skiing and hanging with a rad new (to me) community of people. Instead I had drifting thoughts of, I just want to be home. I know this thought comes from being tired of travel. Of wanting to build a house, grow food, have dinner with a loved one, conversation and adventure with loved ones.<br />
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While I enjoy that I have a vast community of friends and pen pals, always have. I think I was striving before my injury to settle a little bit. Not settle in trying hard but try hard in different endeavors. I knew how to climb, how to run, how to avoid conflict by being cool or being avoidant with my needs but I longed to tackle the emotional or communicative sides that I needed to work on. I needed help and support with those endeavors. I didn't know how or wasn't brave enough to ask for help nor was the timing right for some to offer. I made small efforts but ultimately relied on what I was used to....solving myself or avoiding through physical activity.<br />
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This trip had a rise up of my past work, intentions to be a better human. To learn. To grow. <br />
I had an immediate reaction of "I don't want to be here". Thoughts drifted to why not? What do I want? What would make me feel content? Physical activity is ingrained in my being, so is time outside. I think connecting to a community is also. My desire to have a partner and play and friends and travel and piano and movies and ocean and night sky and bailey's and wine and cheese and a sore body pervades. I do want it all :) I am different but I am the same.<br />
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I guess in this rant, I wonder what have I learned in this life altering injury? How am I better? When Andrew died it was the most devastating life experience for me. When Annie died, when Chad...when Hayden. When things are traumatic we learn, we grieve in a variety of ways over an indeterminate amount of time but do we change?<br />
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How can I still enjoy playing outdoors and curious adventure, pushing the body while also sharing some experiences with friends and a romantic partnership? How do I share Quinn but with more patience for my emotions and those of others. Appreciate individual goals and compassion for individual differences. Appreciating that every partner, every relationship (friends or lovers) will be challenging and amazing at the same time. Life is work, constant unpredictable, painful, joyous work.<br />
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Maybe I am learning that all we can do is be patient with the emotion or experience as it is now. It won't last, we can plan we can expect but a multi direction change is in store at any moment. What does all that planning and expectation of ourselves of others bring us?<br />
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Be gracious. Be present.<br />
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Hard to do at times.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grace</td></tr>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-81686139821492297052019-03-12T09:50:00.004-07:002019-03-12T10:02:05.613-07:00---Looking Back---<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staring at the mountain that in 12 hours time I would loose my ability to walk, climb, pee...so many things, gaining.... ?</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">I have some drafts in my blog site that are unpublished. Below is one from late in March 2013. I am writing about two close friends from Estes who were in a mountain accident, one died, one came away barely with many injuries. 2013 held a lot of sorrow and loss. Dave and Lisa, then Rick and WHAM...Andrew and Annie. Sometimes re-reading my thoughts are wild.....how they are the same even now. Even older blogs, like the Peter Pan one are interesting. I WAS working on myself but what was I doing about it? What a I doing about it now? Conversations about risk, change, failure, ambitions, and engrained habits of who we are. I need to do some more journaling....sitting. HA! </span><span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">______________________________________________________________________________March 2013</span><br />
<span class="s1">During this annual week of wandering I am reminded of my fortunate existence, ponder my ambitions (well, I have been doing that a lot this last year anyway), and usually sleep until my bladder cannot possibly rest any longer. This year, the sleep was different, almost non-existent. An uneasiness about friends, relationships, and well, just a feeling of something amiss. Similar to my experience in the Baja a month ago, words fall short in accurately describing the emotion or experience. </span></div>
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The van loaded with seventh graders, Dustin (my co-guide) and I drove out of the Grand Gulch Primitive area after 6 days of exploring canyons, ruins, and minds. I turned my phone on near Moab, Utah. Beep after beep, twenty-something texts in total after only 4 days without service. Something was most certainly off. <span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Avalanche..injured”....”have you heard?”...”injuries include...” ....”funeral arrangements” ....I dropped the phone upon reading the last message. I gazed forward, lost, the red canyons seemingly closing in on the van yet disappearing all the same. The road just was, as it seemed I was. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am not attempting to say something profound, merely feeling a strong urge to write. Death, regardless of circumstances, creates multitudes of emotion and I need a release. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">We are here now, no past, no future, no hope, no fantasies. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Just here now and how quickly now can be taken away. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I feel my heart heavy for a good friend, her personal injuries and the pain of imagining the situation dealt with head on. My eyes moisten for the loss of a lovely man, and sorrow for his lovely wife and two beautiful young children. My chest flutters as our small town community unites in these stressful times. Love, everywhere love. Love now. LOVE NOW. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This past year keeps pointing at living now, loving now, appreciating now, kindness, selflessness. As always I feel slow in my development as a person. Obviously we should be kind to everyone, have patience, try hard, love like we mean it, give because we love giving and making others happy.</span></div>
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We adventure because it fills our soul..........<br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-38463448342269003752019-01-21T21:00:00.001-08:002019-01-24T15:43:39.593-08:00once in a lifetime<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank's beer of choice for San Diego Saturday afternoon. :)</td></tr>
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Summer of 2013 while on an expedition in Greenland, I lost a friend and I lost a love, Annie Rooney and Andrew Barnes.<br />
I spent the remainder of that year distracting myself with climbing and traveling. I dove into the Bugaboos, the desert and journeyed to the far away Torres Valley in Southern Patagonia for the first time. I put up first ascents, I ran a few triathlons and even managed to make it to the summit of Fitz Roy. I thought if I exerted myself physically it would quite the chatter in the mind, the tears in my eyes and the heaviness in my heart. It seemed to work.<br />
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After spreading Andrews ashes and giving a little summit dance on top Fitz Roy with Jens, Sam, Luke, Clay and Chad, we all made for a descent into town with plans to fill our bellies with beer and empanadas.<br />
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Chad took his last breath on that mountain, not far from the summit where we had all just been.<br />
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I returned home even more confused. How and why did these incredible humans leave us so abruptly? So young, capable and incredible.<br />
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I returned to Colorado but not for long. I didn't feel settled. I went on a road trip spring of 2014, calling it my Precious People Tour. I visited friends and family in the west. Some of the stops were to rock climb and visit friends in those special places, mostly single pitch shenanigans in Indian Creek and Joshua tree, Index and Skaha. Primarily, I wanted to spend time with people that melted my heart---- past and present. Good friends from climbing community, Andrew friends that were "family," and those friends that had nothing to do with climbing or perpetual movement. It was special. I cried (as I have a tendency to do). Hugs were shared (asses were groped I am sure). Laughs and memories illuminated campfires. Andrew's ashes dusted deserts and pines and ocean and snowy summits.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Libby and I on a Lake Mead bike tour, Matt photo.</td></tr>
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I was single. I was capable. I thought I was sorting my heart, my desires, my intentions. At the end of that road trip I got a call from Rocky Mountain National Park offering my dream job of a climbing ranger. I had applied for 3 years. Hell yes!<br />
I took the job. I met a man (on my trip, bathrooms of Indian Creek we joked). I fell in love again. My life was swelling with good things.<br />
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Things deflated. Quickly. Relationship.Legs.Work.Simple life.<br />
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Death and hardship affects us all differently. It has lasting affects, usually learning through sadness results in actual learning and growth. I ran into the mountains, I surrounded myself with people I loved. Now, as I sit...I realize that instead of looking inward I distracted outwardly. The title of my blog is :look up stand still breath: for god's sake. I was trying to remind myself to slow down because I knew movement seemed to work but didn't actually allow things to sink.<br />
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Here we are now, I have sliced through to deeper layer. More work. More hardship, without the ease of movement. Its mind-boggling. It is hard. I know I will get there. I know it takes time.<br />
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I write all this because five years have past. I think about Andrew, Chad, Lara, Annie, Tim, Jason, Marc, Ryan, Hayden, Inge, Neils, Jonny, Micah, Bean, Kyle, Scott, Carlyle, David, Bernadette, Alina, Anna, Quinn...... (so many more). Lives have ended. Health has changed. I am on the road again, in the same westward direction visiting many of some of the same folks. Instead of climbing and running through the land, I am more of an observer. Different lens, same motivations. To see the world, to heal the heart, to give and receive love. I know our learning and growth is slow, contingent upon experience and sometimes there is just a way to the world out of our control but how can I do better? How can I listen, learn and grow without attachment or judgment? Who was I before and what are my expectations of myself or others that this is so challenging? <br />
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Maybe you are already there?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all tow, no hands. Power assist for the steep uphills and speed checking Matt on the downhills. </td></tr>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-91508143560723796782019-01-07T16:25:00.000-08:002019-01-24T15:39:15.947-08:00Take yourself into the wormhole........PLEASE!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was driving up today (now a week ago) from my weekly "Denver Day" extravaganza. I still do Physical Therapy at Craig. If I have time in my day, lately I have been adding onto my schedule a "walking" session in an <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6153133/"><span class="s2">Exoskeleton</span></a>.<br />
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Today, I "walked". </span></div>
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After wards I had a CT scan, blood work and some other finishing work for a clinical trial I started participating in while I was still an inpatient at Craig. The study gives either a placebo or a drug they think might help slow down the impending Osteoporosis that us Spinal Cord Injury folk are plagued with. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Our muscles don't squeeze the bone. Two things that go against our bones natural tendency to rejuvenate. Today. I learned that one year out, I have lost 25% bone density in my knees and upwards of 30% in my pelvis. The 30% could be more. My right side shows, during a <a href="https://www.radiologyinfo.org/en/info.cfm?pg=dexa"><span class="s2">DEXA</span></a> scan, that it is considerably.....fucked up. Either the machine wasn't reading appropriately because of a <a href="https://craighospital.org/resources/heterotopic-ossification"><span class="s2">Heterotopic Ossification</span></a> that I acquired March 1 of this year (blood clot). The suggested inaccurate reading could be because my proximal femur has this lovely baseball sized mass. An extra and inappropriate growth of bone in my soft tissue. It butts up right to my pelvis. In the DEXA it looks like it is touching would explain the crunching crepitus sound in my hip joint when I bend over at the waist (while sitting in my chair or on the ground). It also could explain why in the last 2 months my right hip has been popping, like when you crack your finger knuckles. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">A loud and unpleasant, unnerving sound. </span></div>
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So that was my day. Emotionally a little draining. The healthy athletic person doesn't want bones that are just shriveling up so fast. I liked taking care of my body. Too bad my mind wasn't on the same page a year ago. </span></div>
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There are things on my list of "To-Do" that have been there for awhile. People reach out....I get busy with shit and don't respond. I also have a hard time FINDING your message, as most are on Facebook or Instagram and the search tool won't let me find you with "key words" of our conversation. PHOOEY. </span></div>
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I am also terrible at asking for help, when I clearly could use some. SO.....HERE WE GO!!!! I could use some help with random tasks.....</span></div>
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1.) I have been trying to call for a second opinion on my Spine. I have a bone chip in my dura (at least from my vague memory and doctors conversations within the first couple of weeks.) Why wasn't removed on initial surgery? Is that causing nerve pain? Suggestions of second opinions I can reach out to?</span></div>
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2.) Help with the house building process. Advice mostly, if you have experience on loan process for land/building, rolling it over.... hiring a contractor, recycled materials, design? </span></div>
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3.) Hip pads for biking. I don't need butt pads but pads on my hips!! Company who makes?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">5.) Out of order but remembering.... CAD people, Welding peeps, scheming peeps!!! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Scheming 2 rigs;</span></div>
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<span class="s1">a.) To climb the First Flatiron. A light weight contraction that firmly holds the legs in a vertical—meaning not much bend in my hips, almost like a slight squat position with knees slightly bent. Knee pads (or something light that protects the knees, shins and feet). Feet are in a more flexed position. <i>Check out @madmanpoole and his ice climbing rig. </i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Perhaps a single pole or tubing better. Maybe a seat —maybe legs with firm soft cuffs that go around mid thighs and mid calf to hold leg in place? Wheels. Like rollerblade wheels. Probably one on outside of each knee and one between feet. Or vice versus. Either way 2 somewhere for stability. Would be best to have them one way rotating (autostop mechanism) so when rolling/draggin up the cliff it turns. When paused or stop it locks and does not roll the opposite way (sending me back down wards). </span></div>
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<span class="s1">b.) Backcountry skiing. Mono ski, probably a ski with fish scales to help backward slippage when pushing uphill. Tyler has poles with skins or something on bottom. That would work or crampon claws or something that can then be quick released off and the replaced with the traditional outriggers for down hill. Basically a mono ski set up to sit in but lighter? Legs out in front slightly bent (knees above hips better for balance, a little dump in the seat but ergonomic for skinning up. <i>Check out @tbone_walker</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">4.) HELP, educating yourself. As it helps all of US! Yes, we are sitting but we aren't just sitting; UTI, Pressure sores, often not a contributing workerbee, a bazillion other complications racking into the healthcare system. Imagine not being able to breath on your own, move your hands.... </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Being an advocate. There are 250K of us in the U.S. More each year, car accidents, disease, athletes etc... How can we do this advocacy thing together? Help creating longer lasting relationships with companies, researchers, funding opportunities......so it isn't just a one time thing, so research can keep growing, learning and pushing.... just like us :)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Getting science to collaborate ? I am sure many are, as I am a newbie and just beginning this strong headedness on Spinal Cord Injury but there is SOOOOO much happening. </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4404549/">Fiber Optic brain stuff</a></span><span class="s1">, </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.media.mit.edu/articles/plan-to-make-a-synthetic-spinal-cord-to-end-paralysis/">Hugh Herr and biometric spinal cords </a></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.colorado.edu/today/2018/01/04/next-gen-flexible-robots-move-and-heal-us">CU Boulder HASAL</a></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2605483/">Stem cells</a></span><span class="s1"> (need ALOT more work) </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://ncats.nih.gov/bridgs/projects/active/nogo-receptor-spinal-cord-treatment">NoGo Trap,</a></span><span class="s1"> and<a href="https://www.redbull.com/us-en/theredbulletin/how-wings-for-life-funds-spinal-cord-research"><span class="s2"> here</span></a> too </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.wingsforlife.com/en/latest/what-is-epidural-stimulation-1146/">Epidural Stimulation</a></span><span class="s1"> (all the rage in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/31/health/spine-surgery-paralysis.html"><span class="s2">NY</span></a> times and <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2018/09/24/health/paralyzed-woman-walks-again/index.html"><span class="s2">CNN</span></a> and, and, and, and but <a href="https://www.medtronic.com/us-en/healthcare-professionals/products/neurological/spinal-cord-stimulation-systems.html"><span class="s2">Medtronic</span></a> has been making the technology for ages...needs an update. Like Zach Morris phone compared to Iphone10! Also some of these people had movement, "incomplete"injury, I am "complete". What does <a href="https://www.christopherreeve.org/living-with-paralysis/newly-paralyzed/how-is-an-sci-defined-and-what-is-a-complete-vs-incomplete-injury"><span class="s2">that shit </span></a>mean? </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.themiamiproject.org/deep-brain-stimulation-after-spinal-cord-injury/">Deep Brain Stimulation</a></span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5021439/">Transcutaneous sTimulation.</a></span><span class="s1">... non invasive...not as much hype as Epidural.</span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/stemcyte-receives-phase-ii-investigational-new-drug-ind-clearance-from-the-us-food-and-drug-administration-fda-300772277.html?fbclid=IwAR3w6B6arb0HzbzBDI7TBZhu_7lZ2TV0jlYVTx5mkt6NCiVYs7e9dn-4cXY">Gene Therapy</a></span><span class="s1"> (I am just delving into reading this stuff)</span></div>
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<span class="s4">MOST HELPFUL</span><span class="s5"> <a href="https://www.christopherreeve.org/living-with-paralysis/free-resources-and-downloads/research-101-on-spinal-cord-injury"><span class="s6">FREE RESOURCE</span></a></span><span class="s1"> (It is simple well written and interesting.)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Cool shit thats happening; </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><a href="https://www.thecuremap.org/">Cure Map</a></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Yippee to our archaic modes of <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-highlands-islands-46781821"><span class="s2">transportation</span></a> </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Thank you. If you have reached out to me before. Please try me again! </span><br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-45584425373290267372018-11-23T19:23:00.001-08:002018-11-24T09:11:34.305-08:00Bah Humbug. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am struggling.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have been bound by legs that are unmoving for 13 months now. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Forgiveness is a far flung hope. (yes, i have tried CBD, THC, counseling, fasting, diet, movement, essential oils, herbal remedies and conventional pharmaceuticals.....).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Trying to hold patience for the passing of time. Selfishly, I wish for a time machine to reverse it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every morning I see my wheelchair by my bedside and am reminded of the gravity of my personal decision making....or lack there-of. </span></div>
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I have described my regret for how things panned out last fall before; from wishing I would have spoken to my needs and desires in personal relationships more clearly....instead of "being cool" because I didn't want to rock the boat or scare anyone off or because I felt obligated. I wasn't truly paying attention to the person that I am definitely stuck with for the long haul.<br />
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Me.<br />
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I do still feel like my blog is bitching, maybe it is. Maybe I have swung from a non-complainer to a full-complainer. Finding my balance, yeah?<br />
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Truth be told, I am learning, I was embarrassed to admit to myself or others my ACTUAL wants and desires.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zht1QmGWJ70/W_jE5CRvPrI/AAAAAAAADww/wUiVu2lhVX4HF3b0WjPrhRQEgFuZi8a2wCLcBGAs/s1600/LibbyBender.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zht1QmGWJ70/W_jE5CRvPrI/AAAAAAAADww/wUiVu2lhVX4HF3b0WjPrhRQEgFuZi8a2wCLcBGAs/s400/LibbyBender.JPG" width="225" /></a>I still struggle with this but with so much emotional and physical pain it is just easier to say what I need, rather then sugar coating it or sucking it up....like I used to. I do not forgive the past life. The self work I thought I was doing, my attempts to infect others with a love for nature, trying hard, moving with passion, and working on self.<br />
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I spoke out to others, actually trying to teach and infect myself. I struggled feeling beautiful, measuring up to self-derived expectations.</div>
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I miss running. I miss standing up. I miss playing and my playful attitude. I miss being easy going and carefree. I miss feeling healthy. I stress my health. My hips and legs are disgusting, skinny and frail. I have a layer of body fat, that I don't particularly enjoy because it means I haven't been running or getting cardio...which means my lungs are out of shape which means my heart is out of shape.<br />
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The athlete in me feels pathetic. The intelligent rational brain is exhausted. The extravagant adventure stories are now more in the mind, rather then physical endeavors. <br />
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Heavy shit. I still get up every morning. </div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-66069470544681738842018-10-03T15:09:00.002-07:002018-10-03T15:09:58.598-07:00Website up and running....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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still needs work but........<a href="https://www.quinnbrett.com/">https://www.quinnbrett.com/</a></div>
Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-28450216526720194872018-09-23T13:39:00.000-07:002018-09-25T20:43:01.954-07:00An endurance climbing week.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><b>(I wrote this August 2017 but didn't post until 9/2018) .....</b></i><br />
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Dudes have climbed some link-ups. I desired to do something similar but different. While I do have some first female ascents and female speed records, the media perceives these accomplishments differently. They do.<br />
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So, I wanted to run around because I fucking love running around and because I kind of enjoy the meticulous nature of scheming and planning. In 2015, I schemed a valley run around. Inspired by many before me. Bill Wright, Hans Florine, Chris Reveley, Harry Kent, Timmy O'Neil and Alex Honnold....to name a few, dudes. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summit of Washington Column</td></tr>
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I asked a friend, she said yes. She also became injured and tried to pull through....it wasn't worth it. I begged Libby, she travels too much. So I put it on the back burner. I could find a dude to do it with, or find multiple partners but I really just wanted one female partner. I asked a few but was hesitant. This mission requires a level of boldness and competency. Big walls shenanigans, efficient 5.10 climbing and confident 5.11 climbing. In addition, you gotta hike efficiently with heavy packs after already big days in your week, and you have to laugh and be a bit strong headed....complaints are for later.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great Roof!</td></tr>
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I asked Josie Mckee. She said yes. </div>
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Alex Honnold and Dave Allfrey climbed 7 El Cap routes in 7 Days....a spin on this sounded fantastic! The old Yosemite Big Wall book lists 8 BigWalls in the valley; El Capitan, Half Dome, Watkins, Lost Arrow, Leaning Tower, Liberty Cap, Ribbon Falls Wall and Washington Column. Since I had planned this mission for May of 2015, when Lost Arrow is closed, I had my weeks worth, 7 walls. When I mentioned it to Josie we both agreed that Ribbon Falls Wall, although fun, seemed a little out of the loop and I had always wanted climb Lost Arrow spire. So we swapped the two and loosely made plans. </div>
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I arrived to Yosemite Valley on October 2nd. The weather was glorious, emotions we positive. Josie and I didn't know each other very well, but have many mutual friends and a one outing in the mountains of Patagonia together. I have struggled with partners in the past, and sometimes still do. I am not the strongest of free climbers but I do consider myself to be lung oriented. I almost would rather ski uphill and feel the iron blood taste in my mouth, then I would ski down hill, thighs burning. I work in Rocky Mountain National Park in the summer months, ie, I run around at altitude all summer long. I also have a pension for long-long days of movement. I grew up swimming, running, biking, focusing on endurance and splits. Climbing hard came second (which I have a growing fondness for). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half Dome...diving board above</td></tr>
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I digress. I don't sit still, endurance sports are neat. Running around the Valley sounded awesome. Josie agreed and I believed she was a good match. Some partners climb really hard but aren't as much into pushing their lungs. Some are great at running around but don't have the big wall experience to swing around or confidence to cam hook, heel hook, into free moves. Some like to suffer a little bit, then complain a lot a bit. I like to giggle and snort but I also can be serious and lack confidence. The perfect partner was someone who pushed me but allowed me to push them too. You know those two teachers in school that were total contrast of one another? One you just didn't connect to, despite their best efforts in praise or scolding or whatever it was. Their delivery just didn't work. Opposing, there was a teacher who you did connect with, pushed you, praised you and you were receptive. Climbing partners work like that. Mostly, to be honest. I am a spaz and wish everyone would move faster hiking, on simul-climbing terrain (under 5.10) and at transitions. They all wish I climbed harder and quit freeking out about our perceived pace. </div>
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It was a fabulous adventure. We were both tired on day 4, but I thrive sometimes in that perfect balance of tired but someone needs my support more then I need rest AND we have this awesome objective, so lets be supportive of one another!! </div>
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By day 7 the rhythm was set. I honestly felt I could have kept climbing. Tired yes, but I wasn't maxed out. Granted we joked about climbing the 8th big wall, Ribbon Falls, but opted to drink and hang with our friends by the campfire. We hadn't hung out in a week. We were so focused. Climb. Sort the rack, take care of personal hygiene (super important); soak feet and hands in river, shower, wash feet, wash face etc. Then it was pack for the next day, drink a beer, make or eat dinner (the dudes were super helpful in this regard), go to bed, do it again. <br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-47845084407827230312018-09-01T16:09:00.000-07:002018-09-13T16:14:30.340-07:00judging<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yup. Life continues. How crazy a phenonmenon! To have been so quickly, so easily "lights-out." I knew, we know, life is precious but to take and HAVE the time to reflect upon this scenario is wild.<br />
I would not have known taking my last breath.<br />
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I did not want to end.<br />
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I was gaining pride in my body at 36 (finally), foolishly and highly critical of belly fat, fueling my need to exercise. I was settling into my house, painting, gardening and even researching building a new home--shipping container or straw bale. I had made sacrifices for my relationships, I had stopped teaching month long EMT courses in Seattle area, shortened climbing trips or planned them with my radical partner, even put some solo or bigger lady expeditions on the back burner. At the end of last summer season, I was contemplating quitting the climbing ranger position, in part due to the sogginess of my romantic relationship, as well as, my personal/vocational goals.<br />
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Life continues to evolve. Here we are now.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TBtr9dvrPE/W4iqSbOQ8dI/AAAAAAAADtk/CqHd_shDMNUB6cbLoFzh1vS204b5eGUawCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8TBtr9dvrPE/W4iqSbOQ8dI/AAAAAAAADtk/CqHd_shDMNUB6cbLoFzh1vS204b5eGUawCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_1080.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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Hindsight is a muther truckin beotch. I should not have driven to Yosemite, I should-coulda changed many behaviors in the month prior to my accident. I should have stood-up, spoken up and listened up to myself. I still feel like an idiot, a selfish- driven- fool, and now an unattractive cripple! Yea, I am fully aware how lucky I am....but my trauma is my own, as silly as it seems. Same as whatever you got going on, its all yours as mundane as it may be. No one can take it away or diminish it. The questions is, how do we deal with it? How do we move on?<br />
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I don't have the answer to these questions. I also don't feel like I get a free pass because of my continuous emotional and physical pain....I should still try hard.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfGMzE-dJIg/W4sbW4aDWvI/AAAAAAAADuE/62eMlLodH0QS1SbdSbKj9vcDX-LfR_90QCLcBGAs/s1600/poopday.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfGMzE-dJIg/W4sbW4aDWvI/AAAAAAAADuE/62eMlLodH0QS1SbdSbKj9vcDX-LfR_90QCLcBGAs/s320/poopday.JPG" width="240" /></a>Yup. I am negative. Yup. I am in pain. Yup. I can't feel when I have to pee or my legs....aside from the constant dissociative nerve pain. Yup, I can't run in the mountains like I used to. I can still make a mean banana bread, skunk you in a game of cribbage, engage in a meaningful conversation, support loved ones, enjoy wine and sunsets, paddle board, kayak, and bike across wilderness. I can do things. I just hope that I haven't isolated myself from too many people with my negative attitude. I get so pissy when people ask, "you live alone?" or when they stare or call me inspirational for wheeling on a dirt path. <br />
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We are all dealing with something. Who I am to judge? If only I could transpose that thought into my undesirable self-image or my feeling like a failure. True friendships and relationships, with others and ourselves, go beyond the physical realm. So easy to say, I knew this before...but clearly wasn't putting valuable time and effort there. How do we treat ourselves with compassion? Truly? <br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-66132621671870041102018-07-28T19:51:00.000-07:002018-08-10T15:04:16.281-07:00July ....Currently...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</span><span class="s1">Lets see. Update. My mood today is mellow. Surprising, as I have been quite angry lately. I am settling into a life rhythm of everyday pain, streaks of loneliness, dabbles of laughter and a 'critical dis-satisfaction of routine.' </span></div>
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I receive some random but INCREDIBLY kind emails from strangers. I received one last night that made me laugh. Thank you. I am going to share a quote from it......</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>"My fear is that I might say the wrong thing or too cliche. Yet when I was mulling over, I considered if I were in your shoes, what would I need? The answer, I don’t fucking know, but probably love, support, a handful of bumbling idiots that mean well, one of those friends that is wildly optimistic that you really appreciate but often consider punching in the face, and an actual punching bag."</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">My intentions were to share things about Spinal Cord Injury...I guess I can and still delve further into the feelings mentioned above.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bg8R1gWByA/W0_PdJ28D1I/AAAAAAAADsY/7q9Cn4Q6yAAijenWkhtC9HEgTPj00azlACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_5952%2B4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="248" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bg8R1gWByA/W0_PdJ28D1I/AAAAAAAADsY/7q9Cn4Q6yAAijenWkhtC9HEgTPj00azlACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_5952%2B4.JPG" title="" width="400" /></a><span class="s1">Pain. Well, to start, physical pain. It feels like if I were wearing low-rise jeans that are on fire but also compress my legs like a refrigerator. I am burning all-day-every-day. When you see me sitting in my chair across the room smiling.....I am also burning and in pain. Some days it is a 3/10. Other days it is 7-8/10. Those days I am obviously more irritable. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Mental pain. That is a fucked up one. I am angry right now. Angry I went to Yosemite. Backing into that hindsight of my mood driving out there....heart and mind confused. I shouldn't have left Estes Park this fall. I was in the mood to trail run. I was in the mood to make my home more of home. I was inappropriately giving space, credit and hope to what I thought were integral parts of my life. I was wrong....charging away instead of facing them directly. Josie and I drove up to the Meadow in Yosemite Valley that day conflicted, confused, obligated, habituated. Dealing with that...moving forward with my decisions, my personality, ME -- is a difficult task. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Leading to loneliness....or tying into loneliness....and the mundane routine. I wake up, alone usually still fatigued. I sleep 3-7 hours a night, depending on the nerve pain levels, muscle spasms (more on those). I try to swim every other day, at least. If I swim. I swim 500-1000 meters. Nothing fancy as far as 'training' goes. I go to work for a few hours (Rocky Mountain Conservancy...not National Park Service). Tuesdays I drive down to Denver, leave the house at 7am, do some PT, have meetings, get a massage (usually), home by 8pm. Off to bed, alone. I am not afraid of alone, in the moment. I miss particular partner comforts of the past. Something that the future should give hope to, but I don't accept myself currently...so how would anyone else. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am cynical of the new routine. Impatient. Surprise surprise. I have a few friends who have rallied to do st(roll)'s around the basic lakes of Estes Park; lily, sprague, bear and lake estes. A few trails have been explored as well. I still wait for my bike, news is it is JUST finished! </span></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-47927987549192774412018-06-16T09:34:00.002-07:002018-06-21T08:22:05.885-07:00....Paralyzed....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing one-and one. Climbed Petit, Saber, Sharkstooth this day. Dropped one shoe between Petit and Saber. Carry-on</td></tr>
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It seems ridiculous that I haven't used my legs in half of a year. What an odd phenomenon this injury is. Legs, still in tact... still having muscles that respond to stimulation, muscles that even move on their own involuntarily.<br />
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My brain and its positivity are directly associated with my nerve pain. When that shits off the hook so are my emotions. I am not as engaged in conversation, grumpier. I think my physical coping mechanisms are getting stronger but imagining another 20-30 years of this is is beyond me, on those days.<br />
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My legs sit idle. Something I, as an athlete and spaz, struggled with doing before....now it's unreal.<br />
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My brain is also paralyzed at times. I feel I am stuck on the past, dwelling.<br />
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I have extended myself, as per usual. Filling my time time with people, travel, writing and habitually attempting to keep the twirling game on ... that I was exceptionally good at before. I am finding, though, that a slower pace is actually preferred. I am exhausted mentally and physically (don't tell anyone.) <br />
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Friendships have changed, are still changing. I was known as the "yes "girl to adventures.... I am no longer capable of plunging into the mountains or the ocean like I used to. Not yet anyway. So, some friends have become distant. Some haven't renewed the lease on our friendship since my accident. Perhaps unsure what or how to deal with me. Perhaps afraid. Perhaps angry at me. Perhaps trying to give me space to ... to... to ...?<br />
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This accident, I am well aware, has affected more then just me. More then my family. For some reason my accident touched my local community, my climbing community, and strangers alike. I am grateful for the new friends I have made, given the circumstances of our new predicament. A reminder of how much we take for granted. Our lives, my life, even now. Life. To be alive. Geez, it could have lights-out in an instant. I wouldn't have even known. I would be---could be gone. Same for you.<br />
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I have been forced to reflect upon that lately. I release my anguish on you with writing, hoping, spraying, reminding myself. I am afraid of myself, my vanity. I am lonely. I am hurt. My heart aches. My ego is paralyzed with feeling embarrassed, of my mistake, my failure, my moaning.<br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-16025415118781439672018-05-29T20:03:00.000-07:002018-05-29T20:08:25.307-07:00Home?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="s1">I have returned to Estes Park, more or less full time. The 7 month unexpected road trip has come to a close. To be home is lovely, the fresh air (that I still can't smell), the view and the community that I love. I am still down in Denver at least once a week for PT etc. A friend up here has offered up time to do PT and another to massage. I also try to swim 2-3 times a week at the community center and st(roll) around some local trails that are accessible. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">It was, and still is, incredible difficult knowing the Climbing Ranger staff has returned and is back frolicking and assisting others in the mountains I love. I have climbed Longs Peak so many freeking times, but staring at it down here...all I want to do is climb it again. Lumpy Ridge brings the same sentiment. Old habits die hard.</span></div>
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Geez. It makes me wonder how I will do here. If this is home? I love it here, I love my community here. I have developed these friendships and extensive knowledge of these mountains in the sixteen years that I have been here. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Difficult imagining anything different. This accident has proven though, that sometimes we are thrust into difficult decisions. Maybe none of the options are good choices, but we make one and must deal with outcome regardless. </span></div>
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I feel guilty for choosing my fall adventures as I did, given my head wasn't in the game. I feel angry for not listening to myself. I feel embarrassed to have made a mistake. I feel like a failure. I feel overwhelmed that my accident has affected so many. Only I am in control of these negative emotions. Only I can choose to move on. </span></div>
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I feel lucky to be back in Estes Park. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I have started work with the Rocky Mountain Conservancy. A non-profit that supports the National Park through project funding and educational experiences in the public land its mission is to support. I think it will evolve into a lovely fit. </span></div>
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Things will keep changing. I will keep breathing for a little while longer. I am learning many new ways of coping. Coping with the nerve pain that persists in my body on a daily basis. Coping with a new life of sitting, where I could run- climb- swim - hike - move to resolve difficult emotional times. Coping with a new body that I am slightly ashamed of. Next step. Accepting.</span></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-90881098588018853162018-05-04T16:48:00.002-07:002018-05-08T18:40:47.072-07:00nymph of the future<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FXMPqr1NJ5Q/WuzdTCDyaqI/AAAAAAAADp8/Bqzl2h4xohkU1xg6xZMwB94WwBWewjiDgCLcBGAs/s1600/mmYoGA%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="960" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FXMPqr1NJ5Q/WuzdTCDyaqI/AAAAAAAADp8/Bqzl2h4xohkU1xg6xZMwB94WwBWewjiDgCLcBGAs/s1600/mmYoGA%2521.jpg" /></a></div>
When I started Dovetail Mountain Adventures in 2010, my intentions were to infect others with optimism in their choices. Yoga invites us to sit with uncomfortable feelings, striking poses that are difficult ...holding them for longer then our usual convenient threshold. We learn to find a calmer breath in the difficult moments, calming the eyes and the soul. We learn to communicate to our body the important aspects of pain, frustrations, or conversely comfort and joy in the most efficient of ways.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FCiaY_MDMOc/WuogSkyNZ4I/AAAAAAAADps/vxHvSxqPRbgLZomop90k4dlnp_nDQVZWwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0272.CR2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FCiaY_MDMOc/WuogSkyNZ4I/AAAAAAAADps/vxHvSxqPRbgLZomop90k4dlnp_nDQVZWwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0272.CR2.jpg" width="320" /></a>I thought creating Dovetail was an excellent platform to join groups of people, connecting them to trendy yoga and now very trendy rock climbing. Rock climbing, for me, was more then the physical strife or extravagant vista. I enjoyed, and sucked terribly at, finding breath, clarity, motivation, communication ...the rapid chess game. I was challenged. </div>
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The next step for me, the infectious part, was to build the confidence of Dovetail participants not only with physical endeavors but hopefully with daily life endeavors. </div>
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Communication in their relationships, frustrations with vocation, and joy within themselves. Sift through the bullshit nitpicking, simmering on over-blown disagreements. Realizing that life IS a gift, love and respect fosters creativity. Anger can certainty fuel motivation and clarity of situations but a breath needs to find its way between the emotion and the spoken word.</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-blh4Zt3HJIY/WuzdTXc9Z6I/AAAAAAAADqA/YueE2XZN7GEoExjSZi51ua-mh17kQDQswCLcBGAs/s1600/mmClimb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="900" height="267" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-blh4Zt3HJIY/WuzdTXc9Z6I/AAAAAAAADqA/YueE2XZN7GEoExjSZi51ua-mh17kQDQswCLcBGAs/s400/mmClimb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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yadda yadda yadda. This accident has me striving for that movement...the release from my brain...the release from dwelling on "what if's." Dwelling on feeling like a failure. Dwelling on the past and the person I was striving NOT to be before, selfish, naive, stupid, ungrateful. </div>
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Ironic I am now forced to sit. Sit with the uncomfortable pose that life has currently thrust at me. </div>
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What lesson would I teach myself? </div>
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I am struggling with my current pose. I think we all have struggles in our position... feel alone. I am learning, that we are. Only I can control my emotions, can control my actions, can control the presence I convey to others. Others are doing the same dance in their own space at their own pace. Be friends or be it partners. To paraphrase Plato's Symposium, we have been divided into two in order to maintain a humble nature. We strive to find our other half. When we are lucky to find that other half, we feel like we are back to our original self. This, is love. </div>
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When we find comfort with ourselves, we can give comfort to others and venture further into our pose, into our minds. My dance, next to your dance....is us dancing together. </div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RkJeNywUr-w/WuogBbiP-II/AAAAAAAADpo/5YcYNWYke0Yc5cAG8eRdX3QsGcpTrMRtACEwYBhgL/s1600/YogaGreenland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RkJeNywUr-w/WuogBbiP-II/AAAAAAAADpo/5YcYNWYke0Yc5cAG8eRdX3QsGcpTrMRtACEwYBhgL/s400/YogaGreenland.jpg" width="400" /></a>To find joy in the small moments. To remember that although I am not doing a handstand on a mountain summit, I am breathing. I can SEE the summit of Longs Peak, remember parts of the Park that I know better then the hair on the back of my legs. I should be grateful for the running around, the failures, the incredible experiences with friends and strangers I have had in those granite nooks and gneiss crannies. </div>
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I have found a new threshold and am trying my hardest to breath. There is pain. There is overwhelming embarrassment and frustration.</div>
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One day there will by joy, love, and comfort with this pose. </div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-90394694662547722512018-03-31T09:27:00.000-07:002018-07-28T20:00:09.369-07:00twirling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I struggle writing and sharing because I feel like a big ball of bitching, whining negativity. No longer am I crafting a way to share my latest adventure in the hills.<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lq3yr4FYS_E/Wr5njaZMJdI/AAAAAAAADoY/avXPz3PYDfMn0Z29w8EmqXWJaZO7GX0IACLcBGAs/s1600/Alice--hiking%2Bpage.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="283" data-original-width="476" height="190" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lq3yr4FYS_E/Wr5njaZMJdI/AAAAAAAADoY/avXPz3PYDfMn0Z29w8EmqXWJaZO7GX0IACLcBGAs/s320/Alice--hiking%2Bpage.png" width="320" /></a>As spring blossoms, I am still an inside creature.<br />
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Inside a house and inside my mind.<br />
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I struggle with feeling alone. Friends are amazing but they go home at night. I miss a shoulder to snuggle, meaningful doting and embrace. My partnership had waves of difficulty in the last year before this accident...players at different life spots. I was at a point in my life ready to participate and work for our relationship, knowing it covers the gamut of moods and experiences. I failed.<br />
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He is an incredible human, someone I still adore. That is my problem. To be heartbroken continues to be my problem. Would my hurt be the same if I hadn't had this accident? Yes, I would be heartbroken, but I would have more confidence in finding another....more confidence with myself. Maybe. </div>
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Timing.<br />
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This injury, its timing, is odd. Patience with myself and my future is incredibly stressful....a challenging task at best. I wondered about my job future, my relationship future, was even tiring of climbing a little bit....WHAT?....I know, I would baby shake myself when that thought entered. (yea, I say that phrase). But its true. I felt obligated to climb because it is how I twirled my time for the last 20 years.<br />
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Learning.<br />
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I am about 6 months out from my injury. Every other day I am a mess...and even the good days I am a mess. My nerve pain is a mildly consistent pain one day, and the next is like a refrigerator is sitting on my legs with occasional lightening bolts in my hips. I am learning to sit with pain, with discomfort. I thought I was a grit-filled lady before...I guess not enough.<br />
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Vulnerability.<br />
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Instead of sharing the feeling of sandstone abrading my elbows or coating my sweaty brow, I share the moaning of my heart and the twinging of my lifeless legs.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rcr_eju8wJM/Wr5sle-ZLGI/AAAAAAAADok/TcR5tXEfbzAuC3DjL1rxN53k6PElk0Y9ACLcBGAs/s1600/DSCN0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rcr_eju8wJM/Wr5sle-ZLGI/AAAAAAAADok/TcR5tXEfbzAuC3DjL1rxN53k6PElk0Y9ACLcBGAs/s400/DSCN0051.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
What I write is dark, maybe even from a depressed mind set but I am leaving it on the table. I won't be this way forever. Life has thrown me against a wall...literally. I wished for change, but hesitated chasing it. I wanted a long-term relationship but didn't communicate my needs directly enough...... I also optimistically misconstrued some words and actions to favor my own desires.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5uOP4NaT4LU/WsBWMn609kI/AAAAAAAADo8/b1dM1x8wJuAs-csjLivbcDVTVk2ygO6_gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1071" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5uOP4NaT4LU/WsBWMn609kI/AAAAAAAADo8/b1dM1x8wJuAs-csjLivbcDVTVk2ygO6_gCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0133.jpg" width="267" /></a>Here we are now.<br />
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I thought after Andrew's death I found some semblance of coping, learning, and loving. This accident has proven my growth is not complete. How do I do better? My idea of body image has changed, I do not feel beautiful or capable. Learning to accept....wow...seems unfathomable right now.<br />
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My habit of "playing cool" but not actually communicating my needs....to friends and lovers (yes, I can still have sex, enjoy sex, even birth a little monkey... if desired) is already changing, I hope for the better!!!<br />
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My inability to sit still prior to this accident, translating to some insecurities or fear of being inside the mind......Well shit. Now I am givin'r!</div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-30266487815022245162018-03-06T07:43:00.000-08:002018-03-06T07:43:45.960-08:00Complications<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Well a small scare yesterday. I was changing pants for dinner plans... thought it would be nice not to wear the typical work-out clothing...and noticed my right quad was swollen. Like, twice the size of the left. </span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYH0Hei-XuQ/Wp62Oo4l4oI/AAAAAAAADlg/e1UdNckPHAE2d5UDr-ZvmwCPtoH8IVEawCLcBGAs/s1600/quadzilla.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYH0Hei-XuQ/Wp62Oo4l4oI/AAAAAAAADlg/e1UdNckPHAE2d5UDr-ZvmwCPtoH8IVEawCLcBGAs/s400/quadzilla.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">My sister-in-law happened to fly home with me from my first airline travel from Boston and was also concerned. I had just finished an hour of therapy on the Locomat (one of the fancy machines where I am walking on a treadmill with technology). The day prior I had done 2 hours of standing and electrical stimulation, that was also my first day back at PT. I had taken a week off to fly to Boston for an American Alpine Club fancy gala/dinner and to visit my brother. While I swam 2 of the days in Boston and had a great stretch session one day, I think I was a little more still. Flying, as a paraplegic, does have potential to give us blood clots. We aren't able to jiggle our legs, stand up, stretch em out. Our artery's and veins also have potential to shrink, as we aren't moving our legs so blood flow is low through the anyway.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Thursday night, I went to the ER. They ultra-sounded my leg. I had a blood clot in my upper right thigh. Perhaps from the flying. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Today, Friday, I started a new tradition of taking blood thinners! WOOT WOOT! :) Bah, more drugs to take, more side-effects that are frustrating. I took pride in being a healthy person who was body aware. This injury is frustrating in that I can't feel, I don't know...and I have to pay attention even closer. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The leg is still quite swollen, which stresses me out.... there isn't much room for it to grow bigger and I don't like the idea of permanent effects this may cause. Like damage to my vein, causing a more chronic condition. WOWZERS.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">On that note. Here are some pictures of the event all dressed up and maybe a video of airport fun.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kdt8OoJvYEQ/Wp62lvrJnsI/AAAAAAAADlk/wqdHon7spoMjD-ZM7bUHWpJY8EUWgRwzACLcBGAs/s1600/pipes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="640" height="318" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kdt8OoJvYEQ/Wp62lvrJnsI/AAAAAAAADlk/wqdHon7spoMjD-ZM7bUHWpJY8EUWgRwzACLcBGAs/s320/pipes.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y13Lhz7EpDs/Wp620C2oI4I/AAAAAAAADlo/quTm7ozHmnM3IS5-3IejTKR5rwlOWDQ7ACLcBGAs/s1600/nose%2Bholders.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y13Lhz7EpDs/Wp620C2oI4I/AAAAAAAADlo/quTm7ozHmnM3IS5-3IejTKR5rwlOWDQ7ACLcBGAs/s320/nose%2Bholders.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;">Nose Record Holders</span></td></tr>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-47210800302912242582018-03-04T19:52:00.001-08:002018-03-20T18:53:54.904-07:00Pancake flop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Too real, too honest. I just feel like I am a burden, a giant pile of complaints.<br />
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Just had another transition moment.<br />
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I don't think I am fully depressed but life moments keep gleaming straight at me. Moved over to my friend Caroline's house. She lives in Denver, only a 20 minute drive or so from Craig Hosptial. I wanted to stay close to Craig continuing PT and one-on-one therapies for the next 2 months rather intensely. I visit Estes Park, see my backyard and my kitchen about once a month.<br />
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I miss home. I miss the ease of life I took for granted.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN-GqBQl-5o/WqXurJB90cI/AAAAAAAADnY/sEvBvj6gR20CyOWEo-LTHy4kOauHSXDGACLcBGAs/s1600/cody%2Bblair.%2Brad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1072" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN-GqBQl-5o/WqXurJB90cI/AAAAAAAADnY/sEvBvj6gR20CyOWEo-LTHy4kOauHSXDGACLcBGAs/s640/cody%2Bblair.%2Brad.jpg" width="428" /></a>The transition is difficult for multitude of reasons. The climbing ranger Job posting is about to be released via the government interwebs. The team is in communication with one another, as they should be, but I feel left out. I am no longer capable of performing the job that I freekin' loved. The National Park is trying their best to get me back into the mix, but unfortunately as with Government work there is not a job description to fulfill the tasks I am capable. I can do administrative work, dispatch work, or even work in the wilderness permit office. I am toying with those ideas but would really love to create that job description and work towards continuing the work I was doing.<br />
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I know I can't go into the field to do Search and Rescue but I am very capable of the performing Incident Command staff work in the office. There are many tasks that fall to the way-side, especially during the summer months, that I could continue to do in the Ranger Division. Not to mention the work I would love to continue with the Climbing Concessions, the Rocky Mountain National Park now allows 6 companies to guide technical climbing. I was working with the companies and guides, trying to develop a better relationship between for-profit and National Parks, instilling better Leave no Trace climbing ethics, developing stewardship days, clean-ups etc. Alas, this particular work was just some of my duties as a climbing ranger, something I think I could continue doing if a position existed. It doesn't in Rocky.<br />
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Bitch moan, bitch moan, bitch gripe.<br />
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I try to reel in the negative tone and realize the great things.....<br />
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So, I have been putting out the feelers on other work.<br />
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I have been swimming 2 times a week at local recreation centers. Swimming is nice, gets my heart moving but it certainly is different. Hopefully I will find biking to be joyous, with hand cranks and all.<br />
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I wonder about joy still. I cry at the silliest things; missing my bed, sad at the home decorating I was in the middle of.....</div>
Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-14850846786611561752018-01-24T17:18:00.000-08:002018-02-08T22:12:46.843-08:00Sunshine, lollipops and Rainbows. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I jumbled about the bathroom this afternoon, in the silence of rare alone time, I heard the distant ticking of a watch. This watch is tucked away in my toothbrush bag by the sink. I have scrounged over the watch for years...to hear it meant I was quiet, it was quiet! This persistent ticking machine belongs to Andrew Barnes, the man I dated who died in the Black Canyon in 2013.<br />
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I pause to listen, to take a breath. Thoughts flood my brain of still being here, of him not.<br />
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Tick - tick - tick<br />
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The lightening bolt tingle in my hips jolts me out of the day dream. I palm down onto wheelchair wheels and push up letting my frail bottom half hang and stretch.<br />
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I wheel over to my computer, here we are now! </div>
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Self-esteem is low some days. Daily the struggle to keep my head above the water is a challenge. In this moment, I remember how I grieved for Andrew, his untimely vanishing from our world. I wondered, back then, if I would climb the same. If I would love the same. How could I possibly find a love, a connection again like Andrew? The timing to give my love, myself to them and vice-versa needed to be perfect. As months passed, adventures distracted but heart and mind did mend slowly. Timing did seem to align eventually. I meet and fell in love again with Max, as distant or unfathomable as that seemed in the beginning. </div>
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Here I am again, faced with self-esteem dropping realities. Learning to grieve again, to put faith in timing and life circumstance is incredibly overwhelming. With my injury, I don't have the ease of distracting runs through the hills or type two fun on far flung alpine mountains. My mind is churning with irrational impatient newbie thoughts. </div>
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Will the world offer another willing to be my partner? You nod as you read, or scoff at my thoughts. But wait, I am in a wheelchair! I know it doesn't change WHO I am, but it does a little bit. I am a gal who couldn't sit still, who's self-esteem and morale was dependent on whether I had movement in my day. I KNOW I can still move, but the joy is gone. (for now, I know.) </div>
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BUT, right now, in this moment, in this day, in this week, for this month....I do not feel the same. My legs which took me to the top of mountains, ran me across desert lands, and biked me over sick gnar terrain, they are unresponsive. The 5'5 slender, yet quadzilla legs carried my ideal body image of competent, capable, independent and beautiful. It is what made me attractive to others, my ability to keep up, to push your comfort levels physically, to challenge you mentally....because we were doing them together. </div>
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Now I cannot. </div>
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Yes, I am still capable of pushing, challenging physically and mentally but....</div>
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I am fully aware of how lucky I am to type with my hands, breath a big breath on my own, and damn lucky to have a brain that works minus zero deficits, well..... :)<br />
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I still love myself and know that if I am patient and let time pass that things will feel better. I may never walk again but golly I hope to find myself attractive, find joy in work and each day. Miracles do happen, maybe even another will find me to be attractive again....to share adventures and snuggles. <br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-83733951887338099512017-12-29T20:21:00.000-08:002017-12-29T20:21:29.543-08:00Debbie Downer Day routine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last week I was surrounded by so many, this week it has dwindled. I have oodles of friends in my corner, creating events, helping raise money for my stupid accident. People donating and even strangers reaching out to me. I am lucky, I am filled with gratitude yet......<br />
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all of these amazing things, I feel so incredibly alone. <br />
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I wake up alone. I grab my shirt and bra for the day from my wheelchair, pre-placed the night before and put them on while laying down. I then grab some pre-placed slippers to gently shove on my flaccid legs. My achilles tendon is definitely showing some shortening, as my ankle and foot just lay with gravity mostly pointing. <br />
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I lay on my side facing my wheelchair. I grab my skinny saggy legs, letting them droop over the side of the bed as I muster myself upwards to a sitting position. I have no pants on, yet. Often I get a little lightheaded when I first sit up, my blood pressure is generally pretty low but since this accident it is even lower. <br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AwdIkETJyjg/WkcQlpP5FaI/AAAAAAAADhU/6PvyY7nGevIVRL6gwOajNZ7d42Ki5-i0ACLcBGAs/s1600/tanktopmess.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AwdIkETJyjg/WkcQlpP5FaI/AAAAAAAADhU/6PvyY7nGevIVRL6gwOajNZ7d42Ki5-i0ACLcBGAs/s320/tanktopmess.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
I lean over gingerly to sort my feet and ankles. They take some coaxing to get them into position on my wheelchairs foot plate. Usually my left ankle is rolled slightly outward, no longer having the tone to sit flat and strong. I fiddle one hand on my wheelchair seat and the other rolled into a fist on my bed in preparation. I am to push up with my arms to facilitate my butt hopping from one place to the next. Sometimes I pop successfully without dragging my naked ass across the wheel of my chair. Technically I should lean forward a bit, but I shy from committing as much as I should because I am afraid of tipping over and face planting the floor. <br />
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Once in my chair, I wheel about my room grabbing breakfast supplies and sorting other morning routine items. Once finished I head to the bathroom to pop over onto a toilet. This pop over doesn't seem as cruxy, perhaps because I am moving over to a firm surface. This morning task now takes me about 1/2 hour or so, if I am lucky. <br />
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Hopefully after having success in the bathroom, I continue getting ready for the day. Next is putting on pants, shoes and socks all while sitting in my wheelchair. <br />
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The day continues, I go to some classes at Craig, I eat lunch, I pee around 12 or 1. The afternoon has me continuing with classes, eating dinner, peeing again. Peeing isn't the simple toilet task anymore. I bump my hips to the lip of my wheel chair, slip my pants down to my knees, prop a mirror on my legs and use a catheter with a bag attached. It takes a little more time then normal and pulling my pants back up fully, exposing plummer crack the rest of the day is a valid concern <br />
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If I have visitors, we visit. Usually they are friends or co-workers. I enjoy every single visitor, sharing laughter and memories. Depending on the company we either hash out my demons or distract from my woes. When I am by myself I sometimes run the events of my accident through my head. Mostly I dwell on feeling alone. I wonder often, how I have gotten to be the age of 37 without a life partner. Even as I type I know its not fully true, but it is hard to see the sunshine right now with things how they are. Lots of loss.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LcZNnJsHAos/WkcQx9d3WUI/AAAAAAAADhc/L7DkUQJV-oYwY8eHHwoZMLl6HV3xcY9-wCLcBGAs/s1600/windrivers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LcZNnJsHAos/WkcQx9d3WUI/AAAAAAAADhc/L7DkUQJV-oYwY8eHHwoZMLl6HV3xcY9-wCLcBGAs/s400/windrivers.jpg" width="400" /></a>How inspiring is that? How inspiring am I? Now I am in a wheelchair and my self esteem is shot to shit. Marriage and mountain summits seem like a distant little girl dream. <br />
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Eventually, I brush my teeth. I tiredly pop myself back to bed, sometimes more of a face roll onto the bed as I my triceps are tired from the day. <br />
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The routine, for now, includes setting my alarm for 1130pm and 530 am. These times are for catheterizing myself in bed. I do some internet reading on spinal cord injuries, while my hips electrically tingle and feet zing. When my alarms ring I do my deed and flop my legs over to the other side of the bed, snagging sheets as I toss them clear of body parts. Rolling over is a chore but needs to happen a few times a night to prevent bed sores, disgusting and dangerous bed sores. Eventually I hope to sleep through the night except a few timed turns...no more peeing. <br />
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At 7 am a hospital tech comes in to take my blood pressure and greet my eyes to a new day. <br />
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When she leaves I am still alone. I start the process all over again.<br />
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-40194612529425940872017-12-21T10:43:00.002-08:002017-12-21T10:43:45.477-08:00Mind over Matter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ItyzchTdeBM/WjwARj8LZsI/AAAAAAAADg0/Kiv5zFBmoGgoPbqK7bGR8JrhF5DOxPMTQCLcBGAs/s1600/FES%2Bbike.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ItyzchTdeBM/WjwARj8LZsI/AAAAAAAADg0/Kiv5zFBmoGgoPbqK7bGR8JrhF5DOxPMTQCLcBGAs/s400/FES%2Bbike.JPG" width="300" /></a>I don't have anything that exciting. The two wiggle was dormant for a few days but then came back yesterday. The movement is a little bigger then it use to be, the knuckle moves and you can see a twitch in the ball of the foot also. Big toe on the other side also wiggles, but they kinda wanna wiggle together. I am not sure what that means? Maybe if I learn to walk again it means I will just be someone who hops? I am okay with that! </div>
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Still struggling a bit with my routine here. Feeling I am not doing enough or that not enough is available to me. </div>
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<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />OH! I do have something exciting. The whole freeking climbing community and Estes Park community is crushing! The support I am receiving is incredible. I have had so many strangers reach out and share their experiences with becoming and living as a parapalegic. A co-worker in RMNP reminded me of a former badass employee at Rocky who was bound to a wheelchair. This man, Michael Smithson, climbed with Micheal Donahue (Colorado Mountain School before it was CMS) up to the top of Longs. He used a horse to get to the boulderfield where he camped then craweled his own ass up snow up the North Face of Longs Peak. </div>
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"To protect Michael Smithson legs from sharp rocks, as he dragged himself up the mountain, his legs were wrapped with a piece of fiberglass and plastic (think of those old flexible plastic sleds). As he crossed the Boulderfield, Michael had to crawl on his belly and drag his legs behind him until the terrain steepened at the base of the North Face. Michael hauled himself up the north face of Longs Peak using only his arms! It was extraordinary. When he encountered snow, he used crampons, or metal spikes on his hands to grip into the ice."</div>
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Talk about INSPIRING!!!!!!!! Thank you community, friends, strangers,</div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-47074460971993335572017-12-10T20:20:00.002-08:002017-12-16T19:17:21.767-08:00Best at Exercising....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Have any of you watched East Bound and Down? Either way, type in the journal entry title and watch the clip. Its quite funny. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I am rounding out my second week here at Craig. Its been neat, yet I am not fully challenged in the way that I want. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I am challenged in that, this is how it is now. The focus as an inpatient here is on daily life skills. It makes total sense, as I need to learn some life skills over again. Particularly bowel, bladder and just getting in and out of the bed or rolling over in it. I was more hopeful for some attention to the legs...give muscle memory, brain memory, nerve firings and the placebo affect all an early chance. I know my spinal cord was in a wreck but there is science behind the mind doing things, to the nerves finding a way, to recovery happening to people who were told "never." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I did arrive here already ahead of the curve, having been incredibly lucky with my injury considering and having athletic ability. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Going forward I am advocating and hopeful for opportunities regarding physical therapy. I am also soaking in and trying hard with the skills they are throwing my way. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">My immediate needs to feel more confident and independent and ready to leave here without face planting in the shower are;</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">the ability to roll myself at night. bed sores are a serious and scary concern.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">the ability to move confidently from my wheelchair to and from the toilet/a bathroom shower chair. (seriously kinda sketchy)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">the graceful set up of bathroom needed items in my home bathroom and nearby bed</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">learning to get in and out of cars</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">learning to drive</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">figuring out a little more of my "life" Confusing with house and living situation occupies some of my brain. I would rather spend that time trying to wiggle my toes. Speaking of which they are not as excitable as they were last week. I wonder why? </span></span></div>
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Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2563768273083997481.post-38024534446677917872017-11-20T20:58:00.000-08:002017-11-20T21:19:21.755-08:00Honesty ... for now <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am.<br />
I am so many things.<br />
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I am frustrated, sad, regretful, pissed, confused, pissed-- pissed again. Sometimes I am depressed, wonder if I should be here. Its true. Its sad. Especially given our communities recent crazy-in-our- face losses and near misses. We have all dealt with loss, I guess this loss is one I am unfamiliar with coupled with the terrible losses we are familiar with.<br />
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These thoughts are not generally my demeanor. Here we are now.<br />
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I laugh, hard core belly chuckles.<br />
<br />
I have snorted again. Will I handstand again?<br />
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I can't believe that this is where I am at. My decision to not fully listen to myself. My decision to push it a little bit, reflecting back, push it for me even. I told Josie I wanted to try hard this day, get us closer to our projected/needed time for future endeavors.<br />
<br />
I usually place 2 cams and crack jummar up the Boot Flake. Free climbing some, back cleaning the whole thing but using cams. This day, once through the techy start, I used one red camelot attached to my daisy. I even removed it for a minute and thought, "I shouldn't do that." A few minutes later I fell. No memory yet of the exact moment. Obviously a failure.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ac2w4fDHks/WhO1XKKUyEI/AAAAAAAADew/pxpOJlpH430rqw1S-jTsma609O6A-MqVQCLcBGAs/s1600/Raw%2BBack.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ac2w4fDHks/WhO1XKKUyEI/AAAAAAAADew/pxpOJlpH430rqw1S-jTsma609O6A-MqVQCLcBGAs/s400/Raw%2BBack.JPEG" width="300" /></a>I hesitated climbing off of Texas Flake, feeling a little off. My decision to drive to Yosemite given the end of my work season at RMNP, my woes with climbing and personal life. Karla told me I shouldn't' "run away" to Yosemite. My body wanted to go to Indian Creek and just soak up some sun. Go mountain biking and running. I promised people I would come to Yosemite, I booked campsites, my ego wanted to see about certain ideas I had been scheming. EGO needed to keep pushing.<br />
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WHAT THE FUCK!<br />
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I don't know if I will stand on top of Longs Peak again. I loved my job as a climbing ranger, my co-workers and my easy comfortable amazing lifestyle.<br />
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Will I ever walk hand in hand with Max again...WALK hand in hand. BE with MAX? Live a life without diapers and worrying about shitting in the middle of the night because I have no control?<br />
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I am not used to leaning on others. Nor do I like it. Asking for help, like for the rest of my life? I have never been in the hospital. I liked living simply and under the radar. Bills, future needs like changing my car so I can drive it without usable legs, remodeling my home so I can shower and shit or moving to a home that is more conducive. It is beyond the scope of Quinn Brett's desire for a simple existence. For now.<br />
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I keep saying that phrase lately. For now.<br />
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Work, what will I do for work? Will the National Park Service have me and help me create something meaningful? Will Remote Medical and I continue to meld a solution? Will I be able to write for money, public speak for money? What about my Dovetail Retreats and desire to keep pushing others to their limits mentally and physically, inspire them.<br />
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Thought I would share something. Its not the usual positive "I got this" sort of vibe. Sorry for that. I am tearful every day but laugh everyday.<br />
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Tomorrow I leave Modesto and head to the Craig Hospital in Denver.<br />
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I am scared.<br />
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I am sorry.<br />
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I am overwhelmed.<br />
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I am incredibly appreciative to everyone for their support, monetarily and emotionally. I need every last one of you and can't keep on without you. Please keep me in your thoughts, text me, email me, reach out. Strangers and friends alike. I need you all. </div>
Quinndalinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517479990173234014noreply@blogger.com32