Harnessing the Happiness
It’s been five months now since I set off on my life-changing journey to New Zealand, and thanks to all the complications life has thrown at me ever since, it’s been hard to bring back the kind of euphoria I felt to finally be taking my dream trip and having the time of my life.
In a Hallmark movie, now would be the time when I would discover long-lost tickets to New Zealand and fly out to remember everything in the place where it all happened. But in the real world, this isn’t feasible--although I do have a pretty nice option in the meantime.
A couple of weeks after Nana first got sick, The Conqueror Challenges released a new walking challenge in their global collection, giving an option to walk the length of New Zealand in a timeframe you get to pick. Along the way, you get virtual postcards, photos, and videos as if you are at each of these places, and thanks to Google Maps Street View, you can see exactly where you would be if you were really there.
As someone who struggles to connect with my usually overactive imagination when things go wrong in life, I jumped at the opportunity to have a semi-immersive way of pretending I was back in my happy place. I set myself an ambitious goal of walking the 1,974 miles in a year--which averages to a little over 5 miles a day--and hit the road.
My therapist understood right away that this was a way for me to control things in my life at a time when I felt like so many things--from little things to the bigger concepts of life and death--were out of my control.
She supported me starting this journey, and I’m proud to say that I’ve officially hit 25% of the way--and in only 20% of the time! If I keep this up, I’ll finish in 9 months instead of a year; if I’m more lenient and allow myself some days off, I should still be able to finish in the timeframe of my original goal.
Even though it’s not the same thing walking in Chicago as in New Zealand, there are many ways this has helped me.
When Nana was sick, and home seemed like a place where all I did was get bad news, I could leave and be outside and remember that there was still sunshine. There could still be nice days in the world even when it felt like everything was falling apart.
After she died, it helped me avoid the impulse to wallow in my apartment and read endless books about grief. It helped me to immerse myself in learning about the grieving process, Jewish customs, and how to journal through feelings, but my therapist emphasized how important it was to set a limit on how long I did these things so I wouldn’t get too upset. Slotting time for a walk after this helped me clear my head and return to my current life.
Walking is also recommended in some of these books as a way to stay physically active and create healthy habits. As someone who hit 10,000 steps maybe a third of the time before I started this challenge, walking the 11,000+ steps required to hit 5 miles every single day has been an engaging challenge that’s absolutely boosting my muscles and stamina.
Lately, as I’ve walked, I’ve been able to get absorbed in some of my favorite memories from New Zealand. As my steps pound on the sidewalk, I remember the pitter-patter of seal paws as I watched the babies in the New Zealand fur seal colony flop to their mothers for feeding. Anytime I see a shorter building, I remember Hobbiton and how amazing it felt to be on all the sets for the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies. I even don’t mind the gnats that sometimes follow as I walk, since they’re a far cry from the New Zealand sand flies that gave me a horrible allergic reaction.
Just imagining myself walking in New Zealand makes my days feel better and helps me get closer to that ridiculously high level of happiness I felt there that I wonder if I’ll be able to feel again… on this continent, at least.
It may not be my usual coping mechanism of choice, but so far, this first quarter of the virtual Te Araroa trail has helped me realize that, even though grief and anxiety may sometimes make me feel like there isn’t any happiness to go around, it’s still there. It may be buried deep somewhere inside, but it didn’t go away--all it takes is some seeking, even if that means walking a lot every day to find it.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.