Hiking

Many people comment on how well I am doing. They see me posting about going to the gym, biking 30 miles, hiking 12, swimming, obstacle course racing, bla bla bla. Yep, I am doing all those things. However, I am also fully aware that what I am trying to do is build a strong physical body to protect my vulnerable mind and so broken heart.

It started out all so simply. A friend was hiking pretty regularly after work. She was coming from a place of wanting to be active and to keep weight off. I could have cared less about my weight. Having always been very thin my entire life, weighing 158 should have concerned me, but it did not. In fact, when it came to me, myself and I, I cared not at all.

Gracie, 2-years-old

That said, one day I decided to take a walk--with my baby horse. She was overly attached to Nikki. She had turned two a few months earlier and I really needed to get working with her. So I haltered her up and decided to take a stroll with her off the property. 100 yards later, just out of eyesight of Nikki, she freaked out and started screaming for her. Nikki promptly nickered back. I turned the corner to continue on with her and she started back to the barn, not the direction I was taking her. Let's just fast forward. A few corners later she threw a complete tantrum and bit me in the arm. Without thinking, I kicked her in the ass hipbone and broke my ankle. Three weeks out of work and 10 pounds heavier, again, I didn't care.

late September 2011

A few months later, Denise, who I hadn't seen since Taylor died came to stay with me for a few days.  While she was here she asked when was the last time I had walked the dogs? pfffffft. Really? She commented about how sad they looked and we should take them for a walk. Now living in the national forest, walking is beautiful, in fact, everything here is beautiful. But since Taylor had died, I saw beauty no where.  It just ceased to exist. On that walk, Denise kept pointing out the faces in the oak trees and pretty wild flowers here and there, how happy the dogs were, and on and on. I felt like a zombie just nodding my head. When she left a few days later she asked me to please promise her to take the dogs on more walks. I very hesitantly mumbled ok. 

So I started walking. First, up and down the street. But I got sick of the cars and the dogs tripping me on the leashes and other people's dogs running loose and charging us and waving back to people who waived to me. So I took off for the hills.

The first "hike" was up a hill (huff and puff, huff and puff), down that hill and onward. I let the dogs off their leashes and they sniffed and ran and came back over and over again. I walked 20 minutes and then turned around and came back.  I could not make it up the back of the first hill without stopping.  I was so completely winded I had to stop several times to catch my breath.

I kept at that hill. After a few hikes under my belt, I was determined that I would NOT stop on the way back up that hill, no matter what.  It was sheer determination that got me to the top that day. It wasn't pretty, but I did not stop. And for the first time since Taylor died I felt that I had actually accomplished something (insert theme song from Rocky: trying hard now, getting strong now....). I have never stopped on that particular hill since that day. No matter how tired I am, I push up that fucking hill.

And that is how it all started.

And something else happened. I started to notice that the birds sang sometimes. And when it snowed a few weeks later, I remembered that I really liked snow. And when it rained, I remembered how lovely running water and streams sounded. By spring I had the smell of sage, and wild lavender. And I started to reconnect to the place that I had always found comforting -- the mountains.

Gotta love me some Denise.

NOTE: Denise told me later that she laid that whole "the dogs look so sad" comment on me to get me out of the house and interacting with something. She also knew the endorphines wouldn't hurt me any either. Sly woman, that Denise. She also brought me back to goddess. But that is a different post.

What Taylor knows about me......

Late 1999 I discovered Pinochle on Yahoo. My computer suddenly had a purpose besides writing papers for school. I would play for hours, daily. I found a league, formed a team of 16 other players, and we played and played and played.  There were thirteen, maybe fifteen hundred teams. My screen name was Leigh_Duck_2u_p and my team was Quacker Jacks.  We never fell out of the top 100. I met some great people in those tournament rooms.

Somewhere about 2005, Taylor discovered MySpace, and she too, became a computer addict. It took Hayley another year. The house got quieter. There was no more shouting from one room to another. If you wanted someone, you sent an instant message to them either through Yahoo or AIM. Fortunately, we had long drives down the mountain to and from school, so we did actually still talk to one another.

I think I started getting emails about Facebook in 2007. It was always about reconnecting with your old college friends. I was monitoring the kids MySpace profiles and by the looks of what I was seeing, I just wasn't much interested in "social networking." Besides, I had already moved on to Pogo.com.

November 25, 2007 I opened my first facebook account (thank you timeline). I was still way more into pogo, but when I got bored I would venture over to facebook and build labyrinths on my farm. Eventually, Mafia Wars took over and that was the end of Pinochle (sorry p), Pogo (glad you are still with me other duckie and mapper) and farmville (or whatever it was called way back then).  The Leigh Roberts Duquette facebook account was created in 2010 as my "personal" account, as the first account had over 1500 people on it--all Mafia Wars--and my poor friends were sick of it. (And trust me, it got way worse after Taylor died. I buried myself in that game. Buried. But that is another story.)

In January of 2012 my computer crashed.  Not just my computer, but my hard drive. It exploded, or imploded. It did something. All my pictures of the last seven years were gone. I was sick. SICK (it still makes me sick). I had nothing of the recent past of Taylor.

Except for...... what I had on my original Facebook account.

In that old account, I found this gem. (Remember when these questionnaire things were going around?)

This is the voice of my Taylor (TeeToe as I called her) introducing me to you in her words.

Enjoy.

What Taylor knows about me......

by Leigh Duquette on Friday, March 20, 2009 at 8:19pm ·

Ask your child these questions!

1. What is something mom always says to you?
In a minute.....

2. What makes mom happy?
junk food

3. What makes Mom sad?
when Pistol is hurt

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
her horrible singing

5. What was your mom like as a child?
a tomboy

6. How old is your mom?
46

7. How tall is your mom?
5'6"

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
ride the horses and play on the computer

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
sit on the computer

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
best teacher of the year

11. What is your mom really good at?
pogo

12. What is your mom not very good at?
cooking

13. What does your mom do for a job?
teacher

14. What is your mom's favorite food?
steak and mashed potatoes

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
that she went to school as a single parent

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Squidword

17. What do you and your mom do together?
ride the horses

18. How are you and your mom the same?
we are the same height, we both like computers, we both like horses and we both like to keep the house clean (which is difficult with Hayley in it).

19. How are you and your mom different?
i have short hair--our hair is the polar opposite

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
becase she supports me with my life decisions

21. What does your mom like most about your Dad?
that she doesn't have to talk to him

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
out on the trails.

Here we go....

I am a very linear person. I like a beginning, middle and end. I can ramble, but if you bear with me, I will make a point (if I remember what it was, that is).

I like order. My clothes hang in my closet a certain way. My socks are matched and folded in half and sorted by color. When I want a pair of scissors, I know where they are or they are in Hayley's room. I like algebra and geometry. They are objective, not subjective. I am most comfortable in my house when it is clean. That means nothing in the sink, no clutter on my desk, everything put away. I hate dusting and vacuuming.

I am an introvert. I love quiet and I think way too much. I can't tell you the last time I turned on the T.V. Oh wait, yes I can--to watch Obama's State of the Union Address.  It was mostly interrupted by a local something or other. I get my news from the internet. I hate parties, too much noise and people. I love my time alone.

I have always voted Democrat.  My father is a republican. I have no idea how my mother votes. I tend to be a conservative democrat, but my blood runs blue.

I am an addict. I took my first drink when I was 12 but didn't like it much. I got high on pot about the third time I tried it and was never clean again until the month before I turned 22. Drugs saved my life. They kept me anesthetized until I found the fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous. I just celebrated my 28th anniversary clean.

The best moments of my life were giving birth to my daughters.  Taylor's birth was scary. I dilated very quickly and violently, then she got stuck. When I finally pushed her out, she had a cone head that went on forever.  I was in love the second I heard her cry.  I had to ask three times if she was a girl.  I wanted a girl.

I knew Hayley was a girl.  I had a private ultra sound done to confirm her sex at 18 weeks.  That wasn't customarily done in 1992, but I wasn't going to argue over boys names with my (then) husband. I delivered Hayley by myself.  I caught her with my feet as the nurse was tied to the wall via a corded phone, calling for help.  Hayley was the best baby in the world.

I am a lesbian.  I prefer the word gay to lesbian. I didn't want to be this way. I wanted to be "normal" and have 2.2 kids, marry a nice man, and live in the suburbs.  I did that. It nearly killed me.

I went to my first ritual nursing eight-week old Hayley. I realized then and there why religion never worked for me. God is a woman. Duh. It hit me like a bucket of water. I am a witch, a Dianic witch and an Ordained one at that.

I have two horses, three dogs, four cats and a tank full of salt-water fish. They are a lot of work. The tank is neglected.

I smoked for 22 years. Well, more like 18 years over 22 years. I didn't smoke during my pregnancies or the immediate nine months after, or for other short spans of times when I quit seven different times.  Eight was the charm. I never smoked a cigarette when I was using drugs. And I pay for that smoking to this day when I exercise.

I love photographs. I will always include at least one.

I have to get to the barn, the sun will set in an hour. My anxiety is rising anyway.

xoxoxoxo