Stretched.

Summer ended last night.  Sitting outside in Waterton, you could literally feel it being choked out of existence by the terrific wind and menacing clouds rolling in over the mountains.  Hundreds of yellow leaves suddenly just appeared out of nowhere, carpeting the ground and freckling the trees.  The streets seemed empty and there was no one sitting outside of "Big Scoop" enjoying ice cream, a very rare sight indeed.  So long, so long.

However, I don't feel weighed down or upset with the melancholy of this occasion.  I don't feel like mourning the loss of summer.  I'm filled with too many happy memories and accomplishments to look back over that this summer will probably live on with me forever. 

By average summer standards, I fell terribly behind.  I didn't drink a single slurpee and I only ate one hot dog.  I only sat around one campfire and I didn't even roast a marshmallow or eat a s'more.  I can count on one hand how many times I went swimming and I only slept on the trampoline once.  The only dances I attended were free-for-alls in a parking lot or at a family reunion.  I have a horrible sock tan line.  I didn't have a fun and flirty summer romance.  In fact, I spent most of my entire summer alone.  Completely and utterly alone.  And it was exactly what I needed.

This was the summer that I stretched.  In many more ways than simply bending down and touching my toes.  And this is how...

THOUGHTS AND WORKS

Back in April, I wrote a post trying to motivate myself to be more friendly and unafraid of strangers.  Because strangers really are just people aren't they?  Just regular human beings like you and I, right?  Well, this summer I was fortunate enough to work as a server at a small restaurant and I'm confident to say I have accomplished the goals I intended to when I wrote that post.

It was absolutely fascinating to be on the server-side of things.  I got to witness the uneasiness and apprehensions of people who do not come out to eat very often.  I got to observe relationships of every kind, ranging from elderly couples clinging to each other as they walked in and out, because they would either fall or be terribly lost without each other due to their many years spent together, to the stress and frustration of parents trying to cooperate and control their children during something as seemingly simple as eating dinner.  I got to see the pleasure in someone's eyes as they ate something delicious and I got to experience the disgust of a bad plate first-handedly as people would personally attack me, the mere server of the dish.

Although the service industry has brainwashed everyone in our society to believe that the "customer is always right" and that they dictate and control us mere servers, I soon realized that I was the one in complete control as I approached each table to serve.  I got to say the first words, I knew all the answers to any of their questions, and I was the one who could prompt any conversation, and only if I wanted there to be any.  My tables were MINE.  And because I was in control, I was suddenly unafraid to talk to people, to complete strangers, to ask them anything.  "How was your day?" "Have you done any hikes?" "Where are you visiting from?"

It wasn't until I went on vacation with a few friends that I realized I've completely overcome this fear.  While heading back to our car after a small hike on Logan's Pass, I found myself completely lost in a conversation with a perfect stranger from Boston, MA.  She was old enough to be my mom and was an absolutely fascinating person.  When I finally caught up with my friends, one said, "Kristen, you're not getting paid to talk to strangers right now."  And because I wasn't, I realized I had accomplished something big.  

Bring on the strangers, I'll talk to them.  No problem.

LOVE HER

Back in June, I wrote a post challenging myself to love Kristen Gibb.  For my entire life I have literally been my biggest enemy.  My mind has constantly been programmed to rip and rage at myself for the smallest, even most inevitable errors.  Then to deal with the pressure of never measuring up to myself, I found myself with very little self respect, which was a whole other battle to deal with completely.  Thankfully, one night while writing in my journal alongside Linnet Lake in Waterton, I made the powerful discovery of how vitally important it is for me to love ME.  In fact, I think I've spent my entire life hungering for this discovery.  It was so relieving to realize that it isn't a crime to genuinely care and love yourself.  We need to be our own best friend.

Spending an entire summer alone gave me the chance to combat the mean, self-destructive Kristen.  As I spent my time hiking, running, reading, and relaxing, I was able to understand and embrace exactly who I am, because I'm all that I've got.  I was the best friend that I spent all summer with.  And I needed it, subconsciously I think I've always wanted to be my friend, I just didn't know how.  I love who I am.

NOT GUILTY

I've been cursed with a guilty conscience.  Whether I eat one cookie or two dozen, I feel terribly guilty. If I only run 5 kms, I feel guilty because I should have run more.  If I'm taller than a boy or person I look up to, I feel guilty and slouch.  If I don't get up right when my alarm goes off, guilty.  If I don't study as much as I think I could have, guilty.  If I can't say what I'm thinking, guilty.  If I don't write in my journal because I've collapsed in exhaustion, guilty.  I could go on and on all day.

There was one day this summer I realized that I'm not perfect.  And no one expects me to be.  So why do I feel guilty all the time?  After studying my scriptures and pondering this, I've come to learn guilt is a divine emotion we are to feel when our actions aren't in harmony with God.  We shouldn't feel guilty for not exercising or eating seconds of dessert.  "Men are that they might have joy."

It was as if a huge boulder I've been carrying around for years and years was lifted off my shoulders when I made this connection.  What was the first thing I did when I got rid of all the unnecessary guilt? Bought a pair of two inch wedges.  And then wore them.  Without slouching.  I'm pretty sure I was the tallest person at church that Sunday.

I don't need to feel guilty for being alive.  I can eat all I want, exercise as little as I want, sleep in as much as I want, study as little as I want, the only thing I have to do is be prepared to deal with the consequences.  Strangely enough, I find that I now eat less and exercise more consistently than ever because I'm not being forced to out of fear of being guilty if I don't.  

ON A LIGHTER NOTE

Whatever happened with the Bear's Hump Challenge?  Well, I didn't spend every single day of the summer in Waterton and I didn't let myself hike it on Sundays.  And towards the end, I found myself feeling guilty if I didn't do it, something I had decided I didn't want to feel anymore.  So I sort of trailed off towards the last few weeks.  However, as of today, I have hiked Bear's Hump 44 times in one since June 1st.  I plan to hike it one last time before moving to Calgary.  45 times in one summer, that's pretty good right?  

This summer was the first I've ever been to the Stampede.  It was great to catch up with a good friend, eat a hamburger, and experience the magic of the Calgary Stampede firsthand.  

My best friend had a BABY!  What's even crazier is that I HELD a baby!  I now understand and believe in the saying "Love at first sight".  I love little Brock and look forward to holding him again and seeing his beautiful mom.  I miss you Hatchet!

I rode my bike from Waterton to Raymond in four hours.  'Nuff said!

I hiked the Triple Crown.  In one day.  August 22, 2011, is hand's down one of the most epic days of my entire life.  I remember talking to my mom on the phone the night before, telling her, "Mom.  I'm more excited for tomorrow than I think I've ever been about getting married or Christmas morning combined."  And the Triple Crown didn't let me down.  Not one little bit.  

If you're not familiar with what the Triple Crown is, it's a hiking challenge issued out by Pearl's Cafe to complete the hikes Crypt, Akamina Ridge, and Carthew-Alderson in one summer.  Last summer, three friends completed it in one day.  Which is where I got the motivation and idea to do the same thing with my friends Scott Leishman and Shawn Elford.  If you want to get to know somebody, hike 56.2 km with them in one day.  I'll have to do a separate post on this experience, because a couple paragraphs just won't do it justice.

I went on a fantastic road trip and adventure with some new and old friends to Kalispel.  Nothing beats going away and enjoying the gluttonous pleasures boasted by Amuurica.  I'm convinced that the junk food isles in the States have more foreign and absurd things than any museum I've ever been to.  It was a pleasure to spend time with people after being so solitary all summer.  Thanks for all the fun!

So long sweet summer.

I Have a Dream...

Or, I mean, I had a dream.  


Which is actually a really huge deal, because I NEVER have dreams.


I had it last night.  In fact, I woke up from it only a couple hours ago.  I could even say it was a lucid dream.

But the stinky part is that it wasn't even very fantastic, exciting, humorous, romantic, or magical.  It was about something so common place in my life that it could have passed off for an average day.  Except, it might not now, because the more I think about it, the more I'm realizing that this dream was actually a huge lecture.  Yup.  I got lectured in my sleep.  And it went something like this...

I was on a road trip with a friend [who I will leave anonymous...].

We were driving to my parent's place.

I wasn't in a very talkative or playful mood.

So I ended up just falling asleep and letting him drive.

When we got to my parent's house, he went inside and left me in the car to sleep.

When I finally woke up, it was night time and I didn't know where he was.

So, naturally, I assumed everyone was asleep inside.

And for some reason, there was no room to sleep inside the house, we must have had a lot of guests or something....

So, I walked over to my parent's horse trailer, went inside, and went back to bed.

[Okay, I realize this might be a little weird.  But I had a sleeping bag.  Blame it on all the weird places I had to sleep at The Farm during the First of July while growing up...  Such as Grandpa's garden shed, the tipi, the cook car, etc.]

When I got up in the morning and went inside, my friend seemed really upset.

It looked like he didn't sleep at all that night.

I didn't want to be a snoop, so I didn't ask about it.

After eating a big pancake breakfast, I was taking my dishes to the dishwasher.

My friend kept trying to take them from me, so he could do them for me.

But I wouldn't let him.

And then it ended.

Except, that's not really all of it.

This entire dream was seen through HIS perspective.

I know, that might sound a little confusing.  But let me explain...

Because I'm me, I could see and understand how all of my actions in this dream made perfect sense.  They were me to a T.  They were how I would react to this situation.  I have no problem with being a little -

1.  Taciturn.  The silence in the car would seem perfectly fine to me.

2.  Solitary.  Being left behind in the car and then remaining by myself all night wouldn't bug me.

3.  Spontaneous.  As weird as it was, I admit I would sleep in a horse trailer if the opportunity presented itself.

4.  Self-perceived selflessness.  I thought I was doing everyone a favor by sticking the night out in the horse trailer.  I didn't want to steal a bed or wake anyone up.

5.  Independent.  I can take care of myself, whether it's sleeping alone in a horse trailer or doing my own dishes.

6.  Proud.  In fact, I'm proud that I'm independent and can do these things.  I'm especially proud of my work ethic and readily refuse help in completing work I deem as my own or that I think I can do best.

7.  Stubborn.  Because I'm so proud, I usually don't really care to surrender my independence or relinquish any of my work.

The brat my mother raised...

However, since this dream was seen through my friend's perspective, all the qualities I revere and enjoy about myself suddenly became the cause for feelings of discomfort and neglect on his part.  For the entire dream I saw how unhappy and heart broken I was making him feel by just being myself.  And that's where the lecture comes in...

"Kristen Gibb, you need to be more considerate."

I guess the two biggest lessons I learned from this dream are that - 

1.  People need me to need them.  I don't mean this in the sense that I'm "big deal" and people can't go on without me needing them, I mean it in that people need me to simply respond, to give them proof of life, to actually take the effort to show them that "...yeah, I'm here, and I really do care about you."  A good friend of mine used to tell me I was a "robot" and that the song "I Am A Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel described me perfectly.  I took it as a giant compliment, but I think he was hinting at the fact that I need to step down from my tall and independent pedestal to start giving back to all the relationships in my life.  I now see that my affinity for silence and keeping to myself can be perceived as frustration, a grudge, or a guilt trip to someone else.  I may be hurting someone's feelings and damaging a relationships without even knowing.  We all naturally need the attention, affection, and adoration of the people we care about in our lives.  Just because I don't need very much at all doesn't mean that this is the same for everyone else.  If I care about someone, I need to make the effort to stay awake and talk to them during a road trip.  I need to come inside and hang out with them.  I need to make sure they know where I'm going to be all night if I decide to sleep in a horse trailer or else they'll stay awake worrying.

2.  Let others help me.  Just like people need me to show an interest and regard for them, I need to let people do the same for me.  And oftentimes, they may choose to do this by giving service to me, such as doing my dishes.  It isn't a weakness to surrender my ability to work when it's for a friend wishing to do me a favor.  For the longest time I've esteemed myself as being so strong and mighty in my ability to take care of myself, but oftentimes the real strength lies in letting someone help you.  I'm sure the Saviour could have cleaned his own feet, in fact, he probably could have done a better job and made sure his feet were cleaned exactly how he wanted them to be, but that's not the point.  He let Mary anoint and clean his feet with her hair.  I need to start letting others do the same.  Figuratively.  I think hair would tickle my feet too much.

Well unknown Master of Dreams, I LEARNED MY LESSON.  Thanks a lot for the lecture.  I guess I needed it.  Now, could I just start having regular type dreams?  Thanks.

Simply Agog.

Do you know this man?

Maybe you're familiar with some of the movies he's been in, such as The Hangover or Due Date.  

Nope?  Me neither.  But in case you're wondering, his name is Zach Galifianakis and he's been staying in Waterton for the past few days.

Waterton is usually a busy, buzzing place, but during this week everyone seemed to be agog, simply agog! at the idea of potentially running into Mr. Galifianakis.  

I'll admit straight up that I'm incredibly ignorant of who he is and what movies he's been in, I don't think I've even seen one of them.  But still, it's kind of exciting to have a real life celebrity in your own stomping grounds.

Anyways, I was working Thursday evening at Zum's when we got a reservation for a group of 20.  Low and behold, it was my turn to get the next table and who should walk in?  None other than Mr. Famous Face himself.  Turns out he was visiting Waterton for his wife's family reunion.  Wait a minute, famous people go to things like family reunions?  In-law family reunions?!

After everyone realized that Zach Galifianakis was in our restaurant, a co-worker of mine literally begged me to let him take the table.  After he offered to give me all of the tip he'd earn taking that table, I was sold.  

So there you have it, a famous person came into my work and I passed up the opportunity to even talk to him.  

As the night went on, I started doing closing jobs and found myself cleaning the bathrooms.  Fortunately the men's bathroom was empty, so I quickly started cleaning it when the door suddenly opened.  I guess the poor guy didn't see me when he walked in, because when I said, "Sorry, let me just slip out", he jumped, swore, and swirled around.  And there I was, alone in a men's bathroom with Zach Galifianakis.    He started to chuckle at himself for being so startled as I apologized for scaring him, I could tell by the sheepish look on his face that he was even a little bit embarrassed.  Then I promptly got the heck out of there.

As I stood in the hallway waiting for the bathroom to be empty again, I couldn't help but think about how silly us humans are.  We claim to love our lives, but spend so much of it watching movies about the lives of fake people, simply characters in make-believe stories, or reading and obsessing about the lives of celebrities.  We gradually convince ourselves that our own lives are dull and meaningless and choose to only be excited by the lives of those names that are plastered on the covers of magazines or scrolling through the credits of movies.  We somehow begin to think that these people live in an alternative reality, that their lives really are better than ours, and we then find ourselves wetting our pants with excitement should their life cross paths with ours.  

Believe it or not, we are each here doing the exact same thing, living our life.  We all have families, we all have fears, and we all get a little bit embarrassed should a member of the opposite sex scare us in the haven of our own gender's bathroom.  Life is life.  Decide now to be happy with yours and then work hard to get exactly what you want out of it.

A few minutes later, my epiphany was interrupted by a scruffy looking, bearded man, wearing shorts and wool socks with his sneakers, shuffling out of the men's bathroom.  Still looking slightly embarrassed, he looked up, apologized again, and then walked back to enjoy the rest of his family reunion.  

Bravery.

I've always considered myself to be really brave.

While living in Logan, Utah, I played in the graveyard across the road instead of the playground beside my family's apartment. Graveyards don't scare me and I have no problem walking through them in the dark.

While growing up in Raymond, my family would spend Sunday afternoons driving across the countryside looking for abandoned homesteads. We'd spend hours looking through the rubble left behind in the empty, old houses and sheds. Then for an extra thrill, we'd go back in the dark to watch scary movies, like “The Ring”, in them. Abandoned houses don't scare me and I have no problem watching scary movies in them in the dark.

While living out here in Waterton, I've made some goals regarding hiking. I try to hike Bear's Hump everyday and I want to do every hike in Waterton before the summer ends. Some days I've forgotten to climb Bear's Hump until it was already late, in which case I've found myself hiking alone in the dark. This week I did three hikes, Forum, Wall, and Bertha Lakes. Completely alone. Hiking alone doesn't scare me and I only had a little problem hiking alone in the dark (I had to sing really loud to maintain my bravery, haha).

Yeah, so I'm pretty brave.

At least I thought so.

That was until something really scary happened.

This week two guys I work with invited me to go hang out at the Dardenelles, the narrow, river section which connects Middle Waterton Lake to the Lower Lake. There was going to be music, frisbee, swimming, sun tanning, and so on. The perfect way to spend the perfect summer afternoon. I couldn't say no, literally. So after agreeing and leaving to 'get ready', I nearly had an anxiety attack trying to think of any excuse possible to get out of going. Hanging out with new people REALLY scares me and I will do anything to try and get out of it.

Fortunately, one of the guys held me very accountable, walking right into my house and checking that I was coming before he left. It was impossible to formulate an excuse to not go with him standing right there. I had no choice but to go. I faced a real fear. A fear which is MINE. Which made me realize something.

I'M NOT BRAVE AT ALL.

Bravery is all about facing REAL fears. Facing YOUR fears. Although graveyards, abandoned houses, the dark, and hiking alone are definitely frightening to other people, they just don't scare me. So facing them doesn't make me brave at all. It's exactly the same as eating an ice cream cone or taking a shower. Not scary. Which makes me not brave.

Luckily, I know what scares me. I know my fears. Which means I know what I need to do if I want to be brave.

Talking to a group of girls I don't know would make me brave.

Hanging out with a group of classmates or co-workers, outside of school or work, would make me brave.

Being forward enough to let a guy know that I'm interested in him would make me brave.

Letting myself really fall for someone would make me brave.

Opening up and sharing my thoughts, dreams, and passions with someone besides my select few would make me brave.

Telling someone exactly how much I care about them would make me brave.

Showing my life in great detail through pictures over Facebook and my blog would make me brave.

Allowing myself to really display my emotions would make me brave.

Basically, I'm a social scaredy-cat. Social settings, social interactions, and relationships scare me. And in my 22 years here on earth, I've done very little in regards to facing my fears. I'm a bravery amateur.  And I don't know if I'm brave enough to really step up to the plate and accept the challenge of facing these fears.  But realizing all of this has made me start thinking...

Isn't it so interesting how things that scare you can be completely natural and nice to someone else? 

Are you really facing YOUR fears, or are you simply facing the fears of others and calling yourself brave?