So, at times, you have to admit you're an idiot.

As I tried to figure out how to stand up just to use the restroom, the sharp pain from my side, my leg, my face...kept me from being able to stand on my own.

I felt very much like the idiot I was.

I had to ask Tony to help me stand so I could use the restroom—not in the tent, but beside a tree—instead of the portapotty that was less than 20 feet away.

It was too far to walk.

Maybe I should've gone to the hospital after all.


But we should probably back up a little.

I had wanted to try floating down the river in a cow trough because apparently that's something Nebraska is known for. But my bipolar disorder was giving me a major depressive day, and Ash and John had decided they weren't going to join us.

We decided to try a waterpark.

I didn't want the waterpark.

I did want water, though, and somehow, through all my crazy, Tony was trying to make me feel better.

We found a reservoir in some small town, but it didn't look as though anyone was swimming, so we continued on.

A lot of crying happens when I go into my manic depressed stages, and I find myself not wanting to do anything. I'll have anxiety over things, and my mind goes into stages that I just can't cope with.

So here's the thing.

I had started partaking in the best calm-down medication legal in certain states. Unfortunately, not the one I reside in—or Nebraska.

But Colorado is a border state.

And we knew Colorado had lots of water, as well as campsites.

So we took a very long drive to the first open dispensary we could find in Colorado. After Tony spent what seemed like hours in the shop, he asked where the nearest open camping was.

That's how we ended up as the ONLY campers at Jumbo Lake Reservoir that night.

It was slightly depressing.

I'd kind of hoped to meet some people, but the only two people I managed to meet were some fishermen down by the dock.

My mood drastically changed for the better when I looked over the ravine and was rewarded with a 180-degree view of the entire lake.

It was so beautiful.

I wish I had taken pictures.

We never really ate dinner that night, other than what was left of our backpacking snacks—jerky, tuna, trail mix.

No fruits. No vegetables.

I had a gummy.

And I had LOTS of alcohol.

Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the best idea.

It was great, though.

We spent what was left of the daylight searching for twigs because we hadn't bought any firewood. There weren't any large logs nearby, so we had to use whatever we could find.

And that was very little.

Luckily, alcohol warms me up pretty well, and Tony was becoming a survival firestarter.

We watched the fire, listened to music, and just laughed and had a great time. We even decided to stream with our internet pals on Paltalk.

The drinking, the tent, the music...

It reminded me of the SCA—the Society for Creative Anachronism—and made me want to wander.

So I asked Tony if he would wander with me.

Off we went into the dark, with a phone playing music, just roaming the rocky terrain along the water bank.

We couldn't find anywhere to sit, so we decided to go back up to the ledge where we could look out over the water with the moon as our light.

I'm not sure if I had my glasses on.

My guess is no, seeing as how they didn't break.

I remember looking at the ground earlier that day, debating how to get from the ledge down to the bank and telling myself:

"No safe way to do that."

At night, it's apparently harder for me to see that ledge.

At least I didn't die.

I'm very aware of how lucky I am, even if I still don't think it was the 30-foot fall Tony claims it was.

I do know that it hurt.

When the alcohol wore off, I couldn't take it anymore.

I ended up in the E.R. getting X-rays of my wrist, my side, and my leg.

A few permanent scars now mark my body—two on my leg and one on my face.

I was given crutches that day and told to stay off my leg.

Four days into our Nebraska hiking adventure.

Sitting there in a hospital gown, I made the decision not to go home.

I wasn't sure what we were going to be able to do now, but we had planned this trip, and I wanted to finish it.

No changing my plane ticket.




I slept through most of that day.

Tony drove us by the two Nebraska parks whose trails I couldn't make it onto. We drove up to a scenic spot, and with a Band-Aid on my face and a lovely swollen lip, I took some selfies.

They aren't my favorite pictures to look at.

I'm definitely never printing them out.

But I have them.

I also have a best friend who's willing to go out of his way for me, and that's kind of nice.


When I woke up from my 12th nap of that day's road trip, I asked:

"Where are we going now?"

His response was:

"Mount Rushmore."

We were now in South Dakota.

The boulders of that state were absolute beauties, and I kept thinking that I needed a rock for my collection.

Tony stopped on the side of the road, walked across the street, and grabbed one for me.

Without being asked.

I watched as he stubbed his toe doing it.

I treasure that rock and the others I've collected throughout our adventures.

As I reflect upon the decisions I've made in my life, several of them I regret.

I could've stayed away from the edge when Tony told me I was too close. I could've listened to my other best friend when she told me something was off with a certain person.

I could've continued just being a mama bear.

But growth only happens when you learn.

If I hadn't fallen, we wouldn't have ridden on the 1880 Train between Hill City and Keystone.

If I hadn't made the decision to take a road trip to Roswell with Tony in the spring of what is now last year, I wouldn't be sitting here writing about all of our adventures in a blog for whoever happens to stumble upon it.

I feel torn when I'm away from my stepson.

I talk to him every night. I hear about his latest Rocket League adventure or Sonic the Hedgehog knowledge. I listen to what went on with the dogs.

And I miss him like crazy.

He's growing up, though.

We're headed into the preteen stages, and Mama Bear needs to let him grow.

So instead of going home, I'm growing with him and giving myself the opportunity to make my own mistakes.

I doubt I'll be able to fall off a cliff again anytime soon due to one slightly traumatized man.

But it's not going to stop me from climbing.