Running Scared

7.10.2006 11:00 AM 11 2009 Melanie
This weekend Peter and I went camping again. We camped next to a beautiful stream and spent Saturday hiking to the Lost Twin Lakes. It was amazing. It's about a 16km hike total, with about 1500 feet elevation gain, so not completely insane, but tough. We ate a picnic lunch next to the lakes and had a wonderful day. The cliffs coming out of the lakes are about 1500 feet high or so, and the view, as you can see in the pictures below, was spectacular, and well worth the blistered feet and sunburn.When we got back on Saturday, we napped in our tent nursing our sore feet, and it started to rain, so we just hid out.

A really beautiful trip, and again, I can't get over how much I just love hanging out with him. We spent Friday night driving there, and setting up camp, and then I made some steak and we drank a bottle of wine next to our huge fire, and he played the guitar and we worshipped and relaxed. It was wonderful. Why then, the reason for this title? Let me explain:

Sunday morning, before we were to leave, Peter wanted to get a little fly fishing in. Sounds good. He was going to go for just over an hour. I was going to pack up camp for him, and because he knows my tendancy to worry, he told me he'd be back by about noon, and that I could start worrying about him at 12:15. He's pretty understanding of my silly worries, and insecurities. I packed up, took a quick "bath" in the stream, and settled on a log to wait the last 15 minutes or so. Half an hour later, he still wasn't there, and I wasn't worried, just annoyed that he wasn't looking at his cell phone clock, and getting bored and sore from my post on the tree. Half an hour after that, I was done being mad at him and getting a little worried. He was nearly an hour late, and now I was panicked. I couldn't figure out any reason for him to be late, barring bodily harm, while he had a clock. An hour late when you're leaving for six hours, is something. Being an hour late when you're only going for an hour, out in the wilderness alone, is quite another.

Now, I've read "Wild at Heart". I agree with it. I know I need to let him be a man, do boy things, be alone sometimes. We weren't camping in a campground, just up in the mountains. But Peter knows me. He knows after a certain amount of time, I'm unable to not worry. And then the fear hits, and your brain goes insane, and nothing rational makes the slightest bit of sense. I was terrified. I thought he'd slipped and fell in the stream and hit his head, or broken his leg. I contempated him being mauled by a bear, or a moose (thanks Becky) or bitten by a snake (this is Wyoming after all). I couldn't stand it anymore. I used my fallen tree to cross the stream and headed off in the direction I knew he'd gone. He was fishing, so I figured I could stay close to the stream and hopefully I would find him. I wanted to yell for him, so that we wouldn't pass each other in the woods, but the act of calling for him with no answer freaked me out more, and as any woman can imagine, within a couple of minutes, I was pretty upset. I was running through the trees crying, calling for him, not finding him and not getting a response. Then I turned around and saw his backpack laying there, with no one around it. It felt like a scene in a bad movie. This is when my last bit of rationale left me completely. I lost it. I was shaking so hard I couldn't think, and couldn't see him anywhere, and couldn't figure out why his backpack would be there and not him. I was screaming for him and bawling and running though the trees and all of a sudden, I came out of the trees, and he was across a meadow, chasing "the biggest fish he'd ever seen" up the stream. I screamed for him, and just collapsed. I've never been so scared, or so relieved in my life. He ran up, thinking I was hurt, and almost died when I told him what time it was. It took a few minutes, but I calmed down, and quit shaking, and nearly threw up (my way of dealing with stress it seems).

I have severe issues with fear, especially fear of being abandoned. I have trouble enjoying things becuase I know they can't stay good forever, meaning, to me, something bad is usually about to happen. I had every reason to be worried, even scared, but this reaction was a little much. That's the problem with fear, and with all sin I guess. It escalates. I'm never just a little worried. I'm a little worried, then I'm scared, then I'm terrified, then I'm wondering what it will be like to be widowed at the age of 24 and how I will live alone the rest of my life. I'm working on this. This morning, I looked up some verses on fear and came to this conclusion: Fear is a distrust of who God says he is. Man, and I thought I just had occasional panic attacks. Nope, I don't trust God in some areas. I allow my past experiences to shape my view of God. It's wrong - it's blatant sin. I'm working on it, and will continue to do so, likely for a long long time. I don't think God is going to "quick fix" anything for me in this area. I'm learning way too much the slow way.

In Peter's defense, he has promised me never to leave on his own again without a watch strapped to his arm. He had his cell with him, though totally out of service range, it had a clock on it, but the backpack it was in, was red, and "scaring the fish away". He left it, tried to judge the passing time, got distracted. He felt terrible, especially holding his mess of a wife shaking in the grass. We drove home, I had a long bath, and he took me out to a nice dinner, and then we got some strawberries and came home and watched the food network. I'm a lucky girl. Anyway, here are some pictures of the trip for you all, now that I've documented my total insanity.












7 Response to "Running Scared"

  1. Unknown Says:

    Yeah, the title definitely threw me off for the moment, too. I'm glad that, other than your terrifying hour or so, your trip was fabulous.

    I know how you feel with fear, I'm the same way. When Kyle goes out and says he'll be back at a certain time, and he's late, and he hasn't called, and I he won't answer his cell phone, I get worried. I just sit there wondering if he got into a car crash, maybe he's hurt and bleeding and lost, and I feel horrible sitting comfortably in my home. He usually understands how I feel, because he's the same way. My brother even understands. He calls me if he's going to work late, or going some where after work, because he knows that I'll worry when it's 5:30 and he's still not home. I'm not sure why I do. But apparently I also need to learn to trust God with everything, and not worry so much.

  2. Carol Says:

    I used to be the same way also. Although time and getting used to how your partner is definately helps. I used to think the same thing when Art would be late....but I have come to know that he's not really great at calling if he's going to be late, but the worry is still there, although not as strong.

  3. Melanie Says:

    That is fantastic news, that this does fade with time...sigh. I'm such a spaz sometimes, I tire myself out.

  4. Kathy Says:

    Wow Mel! This brings back memories of Disneyland. Remember? I was so scared that I would never find you or Shawn again. Then when I did finally see you I burst into tears. Although your story sounds a little more dramatic. It's amazing what fear can do to you. I am glad to hear you found Peter and everything was okay. Sounds like a fun camping trip aside from the panic attack :) I love the pictures!!

  5. nadinebug Says:

    Oh my gosh...those are some amazing pic's. U look like a real mountain lady....heheh...
    I really wish that you could move to Fl...don't ya think that would be nice...coffee and cake it is..haha
    Miss you lots too...U R a great person, and cuzzie... ;-)

  6. Margaret Says:

    I can totally relate. I can't imagine what that must have been like.
    The pictures are amazing! I would love to do the things you do. All I can say is, do it often while you can. It becomes a little more challenging once you have children.

  7. Carol Says:

    Yep, and even more challenging when yo get old like Auntie Margaret. LOL