I am spending this summer hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), a national scenic trail that runs 2,665 miles from Mexico to Canada. This is a huge task that takes a lot of time, energy, and effort, but also gives a lot back. I am learning a lot on this journey that can be applied to life as a whole. This is the second installment in the series: Lessons from the Trail.
Letting go of people
You grow close to people very quickly on the trail. You're in a high-stress situation without many artificial distractions and you often end up spending hours or days at a time with complete strangers. This is a recipe for bonding and forming close relationships. (See the first installment of the series on opening up to people here: first installment
) I have told things to people on the trail that I have never told my closest friends at home. This develops a sense of intimacy and connection.I have always had trouble letting go of people. I don't necessarily mean if someone dies or moves away, but rather if there's someone who I need to let go of, but there's nothing forcing me to do so. Negative relationships where I know that I would be happier without them in my life, but there's no obvious impetus like abuse to push them out and wash my hands of them. These are situations where I have formed emotional intimacy and it perhaps wasn't the right person to do so with (which of course, I discover after the fact.) This is where I have always had trouble letting go. I have always been afraid of what could happen. Will I miss them? Will they miss me? What stories might I miss out on? No amount of rational thought has ever been able to cancel these out.
People come out to the trail for lots of reasons. I came out here with many reasons of my own, but part of it was to center myself. To take myself away from day to day stresses and reevaluate what is important to me. I set out on a solo journey with the intent to join with people if it seemed right, but to continue on my own if not. About 100 miles into the trail, I met my first hiking partner. We seemed compatible at first, but before 100 miles had passed, the troubles began. Subtle sexist or otherwise degrading comments that he defended were abundant. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt as English wasn't his first language and explain to him why certain things were inappropriate, but he was completely unapologetic. Multiple times his comments and verbal abuse would bring me to tears. I knew that I needed to get myself out of the situation, knew that it was negatively affecting my hike but I couldn't let him go. I was afraid of what I might miss with him or memories we could still make. It wasn't all bad. There were good moments, and that's what held me in. But I knew it was wrong. It ultimately took more than 300 miles for me to accept that we needed to separate and for me to get up the emotional strength to do so. As soon as I did, a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I felt better, I hiked better. I was happier.
One of the hikers I was talking with last night said something that I really liked: People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and you don't get to choose which one it is. This is a phrase that she had heard from her ex-boyfriend's mother and that had stuck with her through the years. As much as that person hurt me, I think he came into my life for a reason. The experience taught me that it's OK to let people go. It taught me that sometimes letting people go is essential to healing and ultimately for the best. I have found that I don't really miss that hiking partner. I know that may not always be the case, but it does show me that letting go doesn't have to end in regret. I have multiple negative relationships at home that I will hopefully now be able to let go. And this is my second Lesson From The Trail.
