A Little Bit Stronger

I’m going to preface this entry with a warning. This was really hard to write. This chapter was my hardest so far. It took a lot of tissues to write this, so it might also take some to read it. You’ve been warned…

After my time in New Mexico I was off to Colorado to visit one of my best friends.  We’ve known each other since freshman year of college, which means we have seen each other through all sorts of ups and downs.  Relationships, break ups, a half marathon, drunken shenanigans, and bad hangovers.  We’ve been through it all.

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She’s having her first baby soon and I was fortunate enough to be able to attend her baby shower, which I would have had to miss if I wasn’t doing vanlife.  I got to her house before her family arrived and I stayed after everyone left, so I got some time to spend alone with her.  We took our pups hiking, visited the local dog park, and just enjoyed each other’s company.  Her family was staying with her for the shower, so I got to be part of the family for a few days while I was parked in front of her house.  I enjoyed evenings of drinking wine, playing board games, and enjoying the comforting sounds of everyone’s Midwest accents.  It was a little slice of home for me.

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Before I knew it, I had been in Colorado Springs for nearly a week and it was time to hit the road again!  I had about 2 weeks until Thanksgiving, so it was time to start making the journey towards Michigan to be with my family for the holiday.  I hate long drives, so I planned to make the trip back in 2-hour chunks. 

My first stretch took me to a campground in northern Texas.  I rolled up at night (of course) and I was the only person there.  Usually I prefer that, but this campground had me spooked for some reason.  I got out to walk Dakota around and it felt like something out of a scary movie.  I looked at the notice board and there was an announcement about The Plague which warned that many of the local rodents were infected.  Now I had no idea that The Plague was still a thing, but this gave me the chills.  We hunkered down for the night but when I woke up in the morning, there was a think fog covering the campground, making it even creepier.  We got out of there pretty quickly!

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From there I stopped at Lake Meredith, Texas and had a lovely spot on a cliff overlooking the lake.  That night while I was walking Dakota around just before dark, I saw something move off in the grass along the road we were walking on.  I stopped and saw that it was a coyote!  Now, we have heard coyotes most nights during this adventure and while they can sometimes sound spooky, I’m never too worried about them.  For all the times I’ve heard them though, I’ve never seen one so close.  My first instinct was to stop and take a picture since it was running off away from me, but as soon as I snapped a pic it stopped and changed its course.  Instead, it began heading to the road towards us.  He wasn’t very big, maybe half the size of Dakota, but he blended right in with the grass and I didn’t know if the rest of his pack was nearby.  And he seemed awfully interested in us.  I immediately put my phone away and started going through everything I knew about animals to figure out what to do with a coyote.  I had just encountered the dogs in Taos a week earlier so that was fresh in my mind.  The coyote made it to the road and was now trailing behind us.  Dakota was extremely interested in this creature and was making every effort to pull me towards the coyote.  My plan was to continue walking back towards camp, but the coyote seemed to have the same plan and was quickly closing the gap between us.  I decided to use the same plan that I used against the crazy dogs in Taos, so I faced the coyote and yelled in my deepest, angriest voice.  The coyote paused, and then continued towards us completely unphased.  Next attempt: get big.  I stopped again, put my arms up over my head, and yelled in my crazy voice one more time.  Again, he paused then kept right on towards us.  Camp wasn’t terribly far but I was at least a 10-minute walk from the van still, and there were no other campers between me and my van.  I kept walking toward the van, trying to keep the distance between us without running, but he was persistent.  Suddenly I saw headlights in the distance and they were coming towards us!  It was two trucks, both pulling big trailers, and making a lot of noise.  The coyote turned toward the noise and I kept up my pace.  The coyote moved to the grass on the opposite side of the road and as the trailers drove between us, I took the opportunity to start running.  The people driving the trucks probably thought I was absolutely insane, looking over my shoulder constantly, running down the road in my camp slippers.  When the trailers passed, I couldn’t see the coyote anymore, but I didn’t slow down.  We booked it all the way back to the safety of the van. 

The next morning, when I got up to let Dakota out of the van, I was very cautious to see who might be lurking outside.  I pulled open the sliding door and my eyes immediately met a set of eyes looking right back at me.  Luckily, it was a deer, but at that point I was just about done with wildlife for a bit! 

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Next stop was Oklahoma!  I didn’t explore much during my time in Oklahoma, but I did end up at some beautiful campsites!  I spent two nights on two different lakes and the solitude and scenery was perfect. 

This brings me to the part of the story that I’ve been dreading.  This is the reason I haven’t been writing much lately.  I didn’t want to relive these feelings again and I have been struggling with how I wanted to address this point in my story.

If you’ve been following along, you know that my boyfriend and I have been making this relationship work long-distance while I’m on the road.  Yes, this is the same guy from my first entry, and the reason I was in this van in the first place.  We had worked very hard over the summer to repair our relationship and give it another shot while I was on my journey and he was on his (back at home).  So far things were working out really well.  He had been out to visit me in Jackson, Wyoming, I had gone back to Salt Lake City for a week, and then he joined me again in Bryce Canyon, Utah.  He had purchased a plane ticket to visit me back in Michigan for Thanksgiving and would be staying 10 days so we could have a bit of adventure after the holiday.  It would only be about 2 more weeks until I’d get to see him again, after our longest stretch apart.  He’d finally be meeting my siblings too and this would be his first visit to Michigan with me. 

Just a week earlier, while I was in Colorado, the doorbell rang and there was a delivery for me.  A beautiful bouquet with the note, “Thinking of you and your amazing adventures.”  Things were really, really good.  Or so I thought.

Then out of the blue, things changed.  Just as they did last time.  I’ll keep the details private, but it was total déjà vu.  Exactly what happened the time before.

Last time, on that 24-hour drive back from Tennessee, my world came crumbling down around me as he told me he couldn’t be with me anymore.  I had already committed to our vanlife dream: I had quit my job and was moving in with him in 2 weeks.  In that minute I had lost my best friend, job, and home. 

This time was different though.  I wasn’t scared.  I was hurt.  I was angry.  I was devastated.  But I also knew I was strong.  I desperately wanted this to work.  I still wished everyday that he was in the van with me like we had planned.  My heart ached for him to see the things I was seeing, to ride the trails I was riding, and to have the adventures I was having.  But life without him would look very different this time.  I had a place to live.  I had this adventure and I was already living it without him.  And as much as I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, I knew I would be ok on my own.  This time, just like last time, I would be ok.

There was definitely a part of me that was kicking myself for trying this again.  Time and time again I’ve told friends not to get back with an ex, and yet there I was.  But there was also a part of me that knew I had to give it a second chance.  I had to give him the second chance he begged me for.  I knew I couldn’t move on without trying one more time.  And now I had given it that shot, and it still didn’t work.  As much as I was brokenhearted again, I knew this was the closure I needed. 

I pulled up to a campground in Oklahoma in the pouring rain.  I cried myself to sleep that night.  The next day it was still raining.  A relentless rain, matching the tears streaming down my face.  I remember taking Dakota for a walk around the campground, still in the clothes I had slept in.  I stood there in the rain, with my face to the sky, letting the raindrops soak my tear-streaked face.  I felt so entirely empty.  Every wound I worked so hard to heal up a few months prior, ripped wide open again.  I didn’t know how to feel.  I was angry, upset, lonely, and dumbfounded.  I felt embarrassed and betrayed.  And I gave myself the space to feel all those feelings.  I gave myself permission to lay in bed.  To not brush my teeth.  To keep the window shades up.  To spend all day snuggling my dog in bed. 

I know I won’t hurt forever.  And giving myself the time to be really, really sad helped me pick myself back up the next day.  I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And I’ll keep reminding myself how strong I am.  And someday it won’t hurt quite as bad.

My next stop was Hot Springs, Arkansas.  It’s a tiny town on the west side of Arkansas and is home to the smallest National Park.  I found a great spot to stay at a local park that is also the trailhead to several mountain bike trails.  I spent a day wandering around the trails of Hot Springs National Park, which isn’t very many.  I loaded up my backpack with water and snacks, and stepped foot on the first trail.  When I finished one, I hopped onto the next.  I went back and forth, covering almost every inch of trail in the park and covering some twice.  I felt a bit like Forrest Gump, I hiked and hiked until at some point I decided I was ready to go home.  It was therapeutic for me to be out there.  There wasn’t a ton of scenery to take in, but I let my mind work through all my emotions and thoughts while I was out there.  I hiked fast, I hiked slow, I stopped on a bench for an hour and just watched the hawks flying overhead.  I worked through a lot on those trails and was thankful to be tired when I got back to my campsite to try and get a good night of sleep. 

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The next day I got my bike out and checked out the trails that I had been sleeping next to.  I met the guy who managed the park and he was incredibly welcoming.  He told me to stay as long as I’d like, recommended some great trails to check out, and encouraged me to stay through the weekend to see the mountain bike event they were hosting.  I only planned to stay one more night, but I appreciated his hospitality!  Dakota and I set off on the trail and did two loops to ensure she’d be well worn out.  We hung out back at the van, talked with the park manager a bit, and then got ready to head into town so I could get myself a souvenir patch for my collection. 

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I left Dakota in the van while I went downtown since she couldn’t go into the park building.  Before I left the van, I grabbed something from the back.  She always sticks her head out the back door if I open it.  She stuck her head out and I felt a big drip of slobber drop from her mouth right onto my arm!  She never drools so I was surprised to see her drip on me, but I closed the door and headed into town.  I got my patch, chatted with the park employee about cool things to do in the area, wandered around town while on the phone, and window shopped a bit.  When I finally got back to the van, I opened the door and saw Dakota was drooling excessively.  I was shocked and grabbed her some water, thinking maybe she was thirsty.  She drank a bunch of water and then immediately threw it up all over the dog bed.  I got her down off the bed and she threw up again, all over the floor.  My first instinct was to open the van door and send her outside, but I was in the middle of downtown and couldn’t just let her loose.  I climbed over her puke to grab her leash and opened the door to get her out.  On her way out, she kicked the dog bowl, sent it flying out the door and rolling into traffic.  I dragged my sick dog into the middle of the street to grab the bowl and then took her to the nearest patch of grass, closing the van door on the puke mess that was inside.  As soon as we got to the grass, she got sick again, this time from the other end.  She had eaten something while we were mountain biking, but that’s not unusual for Dakota.  I was frantically looking up local vets as she was getting sick in the grass.  I called the closest one and asked if they could get us in, convinced my dog had eaten something toxic.  They closed in 20 minutes and said they could see me if I could be there in 10.  3 minutes later we pulled into their parking lot. 

Dakota was still drooling an incredible amount.  I’ve never seen drool like that before.  Everything was soaked, either from puke or from drool.  I was covered in all sorts of bodily fluids at that point.  And Dakota looked really, really sick.  They saw us quickly and immediately took her for blood tests.  They came back and told me it was probably pancreatitis, but they needed to run one more test that takes about 10-20 minutes to get results from.  Within 5 minutes they had a diagnosis because her pancreatitis was so severe.  She was also extremely dehydrated.  The vet came in to talk to me.  She told me she was really worried about Dakota’s condition and that pancreatitis can be fatal.  She said many dogs recover just fine, but with the state Dakota was in, she was concerned.  She recommended that Dakota stay overnight so that she could stay on an IV and get the fluids she needed.  The only problem was that they didn’t have any overnight staff, so they would be hooking her to the IV and kenneling her.  I was in such shock that I basically said, “yes, whatever you think is best,” in my terrified trance.

Dakota and I have been together since she was 8 weeks old.  She’ll be turning 7 this year.  She has been with me through more than anyone else has.  In the ups and downs of the last 7 years of my life, Dakota has been a constant.  She has been across the country with me twice now.  She has lived in 6 different homes with me and was my rock while we were temporarily homeless this summer.  Most days I think I’m more in-tune with Dakota than I am with myself.  If you’ve spent any amount of time with us, you know she’s my whole world.  To sit down with someone who is telling me my dog might not survive this, it all felt unreal.  Until I had to leave without her.

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The vet and vet techs were incredible.  They brought me back to show me where she’d be staying and show me all the results of her bloodwork and what it all meant.  In the meantime, they were trying to hold my terrified dog still enough to shave her arm for the IV.  I knew I was making it worse by being in the room, so I quickly got out of there to pay the giant deposit and leave my baby overnight.  I had managed to not cry until I got to the receptionist and then I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I started sobbing.  I left the vet and walked back to the van to spend my first night there truly alone.  I hadn’t had time to assess the damage in the van yet so when I got back in, I opened the door and was immediately hit with the smell of Dakota getting sick all over our tiny home.  I hadn’t realized it earlier, but she had gotten sick on the bed too and it had been sitting there for a couple hours by this point.  I started stripping the sheets and planned to just ball them all up on the ground and deal with it in the morning because I was so distraught, and I knew I had a sleeping bag in the back.  I was on the phone with my mom, still in a daze, and she suggested/ordered I go to the laundromat to wash my things.  I knew deep down that I’d feel better sleeping in my bed like normal, so I drove to the closest laundromat and went inside. 

I don’t know how much time you’ve spent at a laundromat, but I had never really been to one outside of college and in college it’s just a bunch of college kids, so it isn’t too bad.  But in the real world, a laundromat is the most awful, depressing place ever.  It doesn’t matter which city or state it’s in, it’s a horrible, horrible place.  Well, this one happened to be extra awful.  There was a family inside, which was half the reason I stopped there, but there was also a whole slew of shady characters.  There were several guys there just hanging out, not doing laundry.  There were 3 people who kept going to the bathroom for long periods of time, and there were no attendants working, just a big sign posted that said, “In an emergency, call 911.”  I was already too far in to back out at this point, but this was the most scared I had been so far on this journey.  At the same time though, my eyes were bloodshot from crying and I felt like a complete zombie.  I just stared down anyone who I thought was creepy, with my hair a mess and my empty eyes looking straight into their souls.  I knew I looked tough because they’d look away if I looked long enough.  So as scared as I was, I had never felt more capable of destroying anyone in my life.  It would have been the wrong night to mess with Jenny.

I made it out unscathed and with clean sheets.  I drove back to my campsite and struggled to keep it together.  If you have a dog, you know how empty it feels if you suddenly must be without them.  I was starving and at the same time I was too upset to eat, but I forced myself to cook anyways.  As I was cooking, I looked over to see Dakota laying on the bed and just saw the empty bed instead.  I fell apart.  I’m not sure I’ve ever cried so hard.  And as much as I wanted to let my ex-boyfriend know what happened, I knew I couldn’t.  Luckily, I’ve got some amazing people in my life who checked in on me and kept me company that night.  My community rallied around my pup and I could feel the prayers, good thoughts, and love sent her way.  That night was unbearable.  I was exhausted and scared to sleep.  I had to keep my mind busy or else it went to all the darkest places.  I had yet to watch TV on this journey but that night I watched as many episodes of Parks and Rec as I possibly could.  As soon as I stopped, my brain went through every horrible outcome.  I feared that I had just washed the last dirty paw prints off my sheets.  I imagined Dakota, alone in a scary new place, cone on her head and IV in her arm.  What if she pulled it out?  I thought of every question I should have asked.  I realized I never said goodbye to her.  What if I never got to say goodbye and she didn’t make it through the night?  I couldn’t stop myself from thinking these things.  I should have stayed in the parking lot.  I should have asked if I could keep her in the van with the IV, so she would be supervised.  So I could be there with her if she didn’t make it.  I know I did everything I could.  I know I got her to the vet extremely quickly and I was lucky I acted as quick as I did, but I couldn’t help feeling a tremendous amount of regret.

I barely slept that night.  I woke up early and got to the vet as soon as it opened.  I walked in, tears in my eyes, expecting the worst.  I got to the counter and there was a receptionist that hadn’t been working the night before.  She was on the phone and I had to wait for what felt like an eternity. When she was ready to help me, I explained through tears that my dog had stayed overnight and I was there to check on her.  Another receptionist overheard me and came over to tell me that Dakota was doing great and she looked a million times better than the night before.  I nearly collapsed.

They took me back into a room and I felt the greatest sense of relief I have ever felt.  My pup was going to be ok.  I looked out the window and saw her outside with the vet tech.  Another vet tech popped her head in to give me a quick update.  She had pulled the IV out overnight but had gotten enough fluids so that she was doing much better.  She had stopped drooling (which had been caused by the nausea), had her normal energy back, and had an appetite.  It wasn’t too long before they brought her in to see me.  I don’t think I stopped crying the entire time I was there.  To see her tail wag again is something I’ll never forget.  The vet was pleased with how well she was doing but wanted to keep her throughout the day to give her more fluids and monitor her to make sure everything stayed stable.  I was happy to do whatever the vet suggested but was sad to be leaving Dakota again. 

I tried to make the most of my alone time by mountain biking some trails that I was hesitant to take Dakota on because of the distance.  At first I struggled, I felt like I was bound to dislocate a shoulder or something tragic because bad things come in threes.  Something bad was right around the corner.  It was hard to be out there without Dakota and I missed her terribly even though I knew she was doing alright.  Eventually I got some endorphins flowing and it became just what I needed.  I even squeezed in a shower before I was reunited with my dog again.  I picked her up from the vet, handed over a good chunk of my savings, and left with a very expensive bag of new dog food.  Pancreatitis can be caused by dogs eating fatty foods (like table scraps), which Dakota NEVER gets, but she does pick up all sorts of strange things on the trails, so there’s really no telling what she ate that caused it.  It will be something we manage the rest of her life because she’ll be susceptible to it again now that she’s had it.  She’ll be on low-fat food and strictly no treats the rest of her life.  I’d say, “poor Dakota,” but she has the best life ever, so I don’t feel too bad for her.

That evening I walked her around for a bit and just soaked up every second that I could get with my pup by my side again.  I’ve snuggled her closer every night since then.

I was thankful for Hot Springs.  I did a lot of healing on the trails there.  I had a safe, welcoming place to sleep each night, which brought me a bit of peace as I spent my first night truly alone in the van.  I am forever grateful for the vet staff at Hot Springs Animal Hospital and for the caring park manager who kept me company during a tough time in my life.  It was nice to see his familiar face each day and I’m thankful for another friend in another part of the country. 

It was time to start heading towards home and now Thanksgiving was just a few days away.  I had never been more ready to see my family and take a little break from vanlife.

“I know my heart will never be the same, but I’m telling myself I’ll be okay. Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger.” -Sara Evans, A Little Bit Stronger