No, I’m not drunk, yet. I wrote that correctly. It isn’t FOMO – Fear Of Missing Out. It’s FMYMO – Fear Makes You Miss Out.
Don’t let fear rule your world. Only you do.
The fearless you.
I recently went on a solo camping trip. Yep, just me and the woods. Me, the woods, my tent, my chair (2 chairs) my cooler, my firewood, my clothes, my food, my vodka 
, blah, blah blah, you need a lot of shit when you go camping.
So yeah, I’ve always wanted to try camping by myself but I was always too scared. What if I get lost? What if there’s a flash flood? What if I get attacked by a bear? What if I get attacked by a human? What if I choke on a smore and there’s no one around to do the Heimlich? What if this goes wrong or that goes wrong? What if, what if, what if!
All those what ifs are just fear. I let my fear stop me from going for a long time.
Finally I said fuck all that.
Not sure why, nothing happened. Well, one drunk night I made the reservation so it was either I went or wasted $90 on a site rental. Drunk me is so smart.
Also guess I just got tired of hearing that annoying “what if” voice in my head.
So off I went, and it was awesome. Yeah, it would have been nice to have someone else there to talk to or play a game with but that’s okay. I can say I had fun by myself, checked something off my bucket list and most importantly, zipped the lip of that “what if” voice.
Bears, weather, choking, yeah all could have happened, but what I was really most scared of was people because people are worse than any of those things.
But you know what I learned? I need to let go of my fear of people. 24 hours in the woods alone has helped me see that.
Yes, stranger danger is real. Creepy guys in white vans offering free candy = RUN! Why are they always in white cargo vans? You don’t see any predators driving around in 2003 red Hyundais. Hmm?
But also don’t be so guarded and scared of everyone that you can’t say hello, or lend a hand.
Case in point: when I first got to the campground I did a surveillance walk, just strolled around the entire campground to see how many people were there and basically to check out what the hell I’m dealing with here. Know your surroundings! There were really only a few sparse campers; not many people willing to camp out in the woods during a heat wave I guess.
The first person I came across was a teenager sitting outside his camper and he was just far away enough from the path I was on that I wasn’t gonna say hi. Well he looks up from his phone and says “how’s it going”. No question mark because we all know that’s not really a question, it’s an acknowledgement. I said, “hey how are you”. Also not a question.
Why do we always greet other people with questions that aren’t really questions?
Anyway, how come this kid was able to take the time to look up from his phone (a big deal for a teenager I thought) and say hi to me but my first instinct was to ignore him?
So for the rest of my walk I said hi first to everyone I saw: a family of four, an older couple, a guy driving by on a golf cart. Stop being so unapproachable I thought to myself, stop being so scared. Thank you teenage kid.
Then the real test. 9:30 p.m. – dark as shit besides my campfire that I pretty easily got lit (thank you Universe) also thank you dry wood and cupcake thing, aka wax firestarter that looks like well, a cupcake.
So I look up from my fire and all I see is this floating light coming towards me. WTF? Didn’t hear any footsteps, didn’t see any body attached to this mysterious light. Aliens? Ghost? Just figures.
So as the light got closer I could see it was actually a man with a headlamp. Damn, think I’d be more comfortable if it was an alien. I’m like here we go, this is where shit gets real. Great. And me alone with my mace (yeah I brought mace, what?) which is currently in a pocket, in my backpack, in my zipped up tent. GJC – Good Job Christine 
“Hi my name is Johan. I see you have firewood. I just got here with my wife. We got in late and the store is closed and we forgot firewood. Could I buy some from you?”
Okay Johan, “wife”…suuuurre.
Okay, let’s get this guy out of here quick.
So I respond “sure you can have some firewood, my boyfriend won’t mind.” We’ll call my boyfriend George, George Glass, the best imaginary boyfriend a girl could ask for. He’s the strong, silent type. Just ask Jan. I did set up two chairs by the campfire to make it look like George was with me. I”m no dummy.
Anyway, went to pull out some logs from the fort knox bundle of wood I had and that mother fucker would not open! I’m like please, please, please open this fucking bag and get this guy out of here! He was making small talk while we both were struggling to get this god forsaken thing open. He said he and his wife stopped here on their way to Chicago and happened upon this place. I said me and George come here all the time. Don’t show fear! Act casual!
He finally got the bag open. He said can I take two or three logs? I said take four. He opened his wallet to give me money, I said not necessary. He thanked me and went on his way. Four steps and I couldn’t see him anymore. Like I said, dark as fuck in the woods at night.
In a few very hurried, but trying not to look too hurried steps, I went to my backpack and pulled out my mace, bear spray and airhorn (yeah I brought three “weapons” what?) and placed them within arms reach on the picnic table.
Now I’m ready. So I waited, keeping an eye on Johan’s site thinking this guy better actually be starting a fire.
He did.
I relaxed.
I learned a valuable lesson: be vigilant, be wary, but don’t be closed off, and don’t be scared.
I can’t say I was scared of Johan necessarily. Alert, trepidatious maybe, but not scared. Sitting there with imagined imminent danger gone, I thought of all the people I said hi to earlier in the day, he was just another one that happened to come along while it was dark.
Not everyone is a potential Discovery ID episode about to happen. Sometimes people just want to borrow some firewood.
A couple hours later I got into my tent and slept with a view of the stars (yeah, mesh roof tent totally the way to go). I thought about Johan coming back in the middle of the night, but I let that thought go away and fell asleep. A great ending to this would be I had the best night of sleep of my life – that would be a sleep story of lies.
The bugs were LOUD! And it was pretty damn hot. But I had a great view of the stars.
The next morning I went on a hike to Pulpit’s Rock, only one mile, not long, but long enough when it’s all uphilll, hot and you’re alone, stopping every so often to go “what the fuck was that sound?” Bear? Mountain lion? Johan back to borrow more firewood he’ll use to burn my body after he chops me up into little pieces?
Finally, I got to the top. A beautiful outlook over a boulder field. I looked down to see how far I came, in more ways than one. I feel great. I can do anything! I climbed a mountain mother fuckers! All by myself! Well only 754 feet but who’s counting.
Then what do you know, skipping towards the rocky outcrop to get a better view, I run into one guy. Not a girl, not a family, not an 80 year old couple I could potentially outrun but one clearly-able-to-run-probably-faster-than-me dude by himself.
And now here I am, a girl by herself.
Can’t remember if I said hi first or he did but he packed his stuff up once I got there and said “all yours”. I said, “you don’t have to go”. He said “I need to get home”. I was thinking yeah right “home”. Home = a shack deep in the woods of that mountain where he has the bodies of his victims buried under his porch.
Packing up his stuff he dropped an orange, surprised his rag and bottle of chloroform didn’t fall out too.
But I stood there enjoying the view looking back every so often to make sure he actually went.
He did, and in the opposite direction I came. Good, keep going bro.
Again, vigilant, wary, but still can’t say I was really scared. I had my weapons on hand this time though just in case.
Would I camp alone again? Absolutely. I never want to be a “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve” person.
I envisioned feeling this way–getting home and thinking why didn’t I do this sooner? Why did I worry about the what ifs? Next time, I’ll be doing a lot less what-iffing.
Why do I wait to do certain things when only other people can go with me? Once they’re done you’re like, what was all the fuss about? The thinking about something is usually a lot scarier than the actual doing that something.
“Don’t let your fear of what could happen make nothing happen.” – Doe Zantamata. I don’t know who that is, but she knows what’s up.
I don’t want fear to make me miss out on anything. I want to be a doer, a camper, a jumper.
I also want to be a truster.
Not letting people in and trusting them–a big weakness of mine I need to work on. People–the thing I’m scared of most of all.
But I’m working on it a little everyday, and this trip was huge progress.
I’ve been scared many times–canal jumping, moving across the country, getting divorced, change in general, (oh and driving up Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, scariest fucking thing ever). But every single time I’ve come out the other end happier than when I started. What the fuck was I so scared of?
I try now to replace fear with faith. Faith in myself and faith that everything works out in the end, because it always does.
So tell fear to fuck off so that it doesn’t make you miss out. If you have to go it alone at times, that’s okay, you can.
You’re stronger than you think.
If you have someone to join you on the ride, well that’s just icing on the cupcake.
CM
8/4/22
“You have never experienced true fear until a poster falls off the wall in the middle of the night.” – So true
