July 2, 2022

One full day of trauma and drama. Still, my heart won't slow. It was high noon and i was down to a gallon of water, so I headed into my hour long drive to Laramie. I'd been in the habit of taking screen shots of the weather for the upcoming three days knowing it could change, but according to three days earlier, I was to expect rain with accompanying winds this afternoon and on through the night.The pings sounded as my phone picked up cell service. It opens up to grassy fields where the road parts through a stunning display of periwinkle hues of flax blossoms. Deer, antelope and cattle mingle as I pulled off and stopped to check my messages. This existence is hard and expensive. My stomach drops. I am humiliated by my life of chaos and delirium. I feel lucky to be standing upright. My statement reflects a slew of hotels because i had not yet found land in which my body could tolerate. After driving miles and miles over days and days, scouting state parks and BLM land, i was assaulted by scorched trees extinguished by fire retardants or cyanobacteria from standing water in reservoirs. The sites near the city were riddled with the burning toxins of industrial waste. I feel raw to the core. I can't halt my reactions to these toxins, I can only avoid them.

It will improve with time, but i have no control of the time-line. By days end, I'm running on empty. Remember those week-long camping trips when you re-entered your lovely relaxing home and all you desired was to be clean and to get into your very own bed?

I look into the rearview mirror adjusting it to my face. I hadn't seen me in awhile. My skin is drawn, chapped, red and wrinkled from the wind and exposure. My eyes are weary. My emotions are shot from on-going anxiety.This is my ride, and mine alone. Somehow, i must take this wheel and steer it on course. I feel the anxiety welling up again. Guilt hovers over this constant pain. Driving is the chore for someone else today. I don't feel safe. My focus is off kilter. I close my eyes. I'm all I've got. "Buck up" i say out loud with a smack on the steering wheel. Just this once, i want someone else to take charge, but the road is my home now. I so wish I had a partner.

Grocery store trips magnify the normal. I hear chatter of barbecue parties, boat rides and parades. My family is once again headed to Ocracoke. I consulted my phone for the date.Time is measured by rations of water and ice. I see the 4th is but 4 days from now. Another celebratory occasion gone by the wayside. I embrace survival once again with less determination than i need. I am paying penance, i think to myself, for every evil i have done. I fill my cart with so much water it troubles the wheels. I round to the front and choose to pull instead. Lettuce, apples and oatmeal. Paper towels and garbage bags. It's always the same few things. I drain the coolers in the parking lot, fill them with fresh food and ice. Spoiled food and accumulated trash goes into the giant garbage can by the chute where carts are stored.

I eat way too fast in the parking lot as the skies darken in the distance. My priority is to call a fellow who is best mates with my nephew, Dave and to return to camp before the rain. A few days back, he texted me information regarding his friend whose wife suffers my same fate. My support group is fine, but there will be a voice on the other end...a link to someone who actually is family. Someone who understands and cares. Today, of all days, i need this. We connect and in seconds are speaking the same language. This illness is so abstract, the normal can't possibly wrap their heads around it. I remember the first time i came across someone who did not roll her eyes at me, or suggest they were "worried about me", code for, "i think you're crazy."

I was in Ocracoke on my first experience of mold avoidance. A woman I did not know engaged in a conversation.. She fixed her eyes onto mine."Are you one of those people that had to get rid of everything you own?" Wow! Just wow! There really are folks out here with this mind bending disease. Can you even imagine having to say goodby to every single thing you have collected in your near 60 years of living? The pretty things, the practical things but most painful of all, the sentimental things.The final dagger is that i am still living and those "things" remain inside the house the way i left them. All of it. My ashes of a life that used to be. Folks entering my old home are traipsing over my living grave. Years of hand selected treasures collecting dust of a time that is no more. I have carried this burden for three years now pleading with my husband to give it away, throw it away, to simply get rid of it all. At one of my sickest moments, i asked him to burn that house to the ground.

Once again, i pull off into the flax lined roadside. The phone rings once, then twice and again..i nearly hang up when i hear the breathless, yet comforting words of a strangers voice. This is the voice of a man whose wife took ill after they started renovating their dream home. An all too familiar scenario, realizing that nearly every wall had been ripped out within our own home. He too did not want to believe the severity and complications of his wife's illness, but in the end chose to leave their home, buy a camper, and hit the road... and with children in the mix as well.

Since my first facebook post, all kinds of folks are messaging me telling me their stories. I am not alone.This family and i will keep in touch. They will share their healing locations. This will be their fifth year on the road. His wife is remarkably better..Hope is welcomed, though the curse of a five year battle sounds implausible. If i stop to measure, i have been in avoidance for three years. Everytime, my health became compromised by a challenging environment, i moved on. Perhaps two years is a more digestable sum.

"Every step to wellness has a price," he informs me. His words are echoing in my mind as i am headed back to camp. A price i know not how to pay.The skies are now a deep puple blending to black. Bold lightning plays over the skyline. I am heading into the storm, just nineteen miles away. Will my tent be standing? Big drops hit my windshield making spitball thuds. Please no hail, i silently pray. My tent will be tatterd, my blankets awash.

I make it into the park and turn onto my own drive locking in the 4 wheel drive. I am sliding out of control. The wheels have a mind of their own...and at that moment, i recall the nature of desert dust. It is like silt on the river bottom and does not respond to four wheel drive with water in the mix. Rain is an infrequent visiting foreigner so they've yet to iron out their relationship. It is volatile by nature. Nothing can save you but pure luck. I push the only memory i have of this situation out of my mind. Focus. It feels like i am steering a boat on a luge trail, barreling on...in a rental. Oh god, a rental? There are rocks bordering the high sides of the road. I use the wheel treating the path as if it were snow or ice and somehow crest the hill and ever so slowly make my way down the steep slope. I try to round my circle drive, but the car has gone as far as it will, wheels spinning in refusal. I turn the ignition to off and sit through the storm. I have made it. Close enough. The giant plops turn to a steady rain.

I need to bathe. I cannot get into my tent carrying these toxins. My car is compromised. The rain subsides and finally quits. I know this is but a break in the cycle as i collect my thoughts. Realizing i had forgotten propane, sends me into a momentary fury. Maybe it's for the best that i not take the extra time to heat my water. I need to be clean and inside my tent before it begins again.

I gather all that i need and undress relinquishing myself from any previous plan. My sandals are caked with about an inch of mud. I brush my teeth and pour the gallon jug over my hair easing into the shock, lather and rinse.Then for my body.The wind whips and the rain is soon in its wake. I shriek as chill bumps rise on my forearms, dash to the tent and grab for my towel, panting. I dry my head and rake the towel over my limbs stooping to crawl inside.

The tent creates a vacuum. Both sides swell toward my cot in the center. I pull the blankets up into a sheath around me, keeping them from touching the sides. I will be doomed for the night should i spoil the sides. I lay down to catch my breath, blankets enveloping me in warmth. "I am badass," i say to myself. "You've got this, for now."

The rain had finally ceased as a calm settled. It was around seven-thirty when i heard the unmistakable sound of dancing hooves. I quietly unzipped the front and crouched low to exit. A pair of antelopes were grazing a few feet away. This was the first up close, glimpse I'd had to witness these mythical looking creatures. Their appearance stunned me. I spoke softly greeting them.Taking note of my presence, they timidly leapt away. I looked beyond them catching site of a rainbow headed upward into the clouds. Another day put to rest and I'm still here.