One month has passed since I walked in my bare feet on to the sand. I dove in to the Pacific Ocean that day. 3,163 miles on foot and 174 days from ocean to ocean. The symbolic end to the battle I have been fighting with my mind for the past 4 years.
I had gotten in to the habit of lying in bed at night and finally turning on my brain for the first time. It was the only time I could be honest with myself. I didn’t have it in me to share the pain I was feeling with anybody. I wasn’t worthy of unloading something like that on others. The thoughts in my head were scary. The scariest part of any battle being fought within yourself is feeling alone in it. The idea to walk across America was an idea I came up with one night as a way to prove to myself that I could accomplish anything I wanted. I couldn’t spend another year believing that my mind controlled me and nothing would ever change. My life would be marked by time and nothing else.
I like to look back on the last 7 months and think about how much I have grown. Have I grown? I think the phrase growing up just paints a negative picture in my head. I see a lot of people around me who have changed who they are to complete this seemingly important task of growing up. Each commitment and responsibility creates a wall around you. So eager to grow up until the walls surround you. In a place where there is now no escape and you would do anything to get back to before you decided to grow up. I think it is just the term “growing up” that scares me. I feel like I have grown up over the past 7 months but I am further from the picture of it in my head. My idea of growing up is being more like I was when I was a kid. Everything is new, everything is surprising. There are no expectations. There is no pressure, no complications. A constant curiosity and blind optimism. That is my idea of being grown up. Where it is okay to be selfish to yourself. To love yourself and to hate yourself. It’s funny how hating yourself is the easy part.
The last night of my journey I stayed in a hotel in the city of San Francisco. I had walked 28 miles that day. Here I was on the 17th floor of the Serrano Hotel surrounded by tall buildings and endless amounts of people moving throughout the city streets. This was definitely a new site to me. I have been in so many different settings across America. Looking out at the tall buildings backed by darkness in the distance. The darkness didn’t used to exist to me. I would see a city that was lit up and that was it. In this moment I focused on the darkness looking east. I didn’t have to wonder what was out there. I lived in that darkness for that past 173 days. The thought of that made me feel so strong. Looking out into that darkness made me feel proud. There were now only 21 miles between me and a walk across America. In 21 miles I would know what it was like to have a dream come true. Not because of luck or opportunity. I created this outcome for myself. I did this.
It was almost poetic to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. Its iconic architecture symbolized my arrival to the west coast. I could no longer say to myself “you don’t have to get there today”, a personal mantra I had used throughout the walk. I was now in a battle with my mind about how I felt and how I thought I would feel. I thought this moment would feel so emotional, so rewarding to accomplish this long awaited goal of mine. I had laid down in so many dark crevices of the United States, starring at the sky wondering what this moment would feel like. In reality, here I was and I could feel nothing. It was all too casual. I had gotten into the habit of never looking too far ahead. This was it. Everything was about to change once again. I just had to shut my mind off and just take in the last mile. Just exist. I no longer needed to trick myself or keep my mind occupied in order to keep going. I didn’t need to try and find the positive. I was here. Everything became simple. Everything was perfect.
The confident final bare foot steps toward the water were a far cry from the scared and conflicted steps out of the Atlantic and into South Carolina. I gathered my thoughts at water’s edge. The memories of the last 174 days shot through my head. The thoughts of how I accomplished more than I knew were possible. I would miss this life. I dove head first into the Pacific. Submerged in the freezing water. There was now silence. I had found peace.
This journey was for me. It was a very personal thing for me. I needed it for myself. I needed to find the value in myself. I think back to one of the lowest points in my life. Sitting outside crying alone. Something that had become a nightly routine for me. I knew I would no longer be playing baseball, the only thing I really wanted. I had gone out of my way to ignore all of the other aspects of my life. My dream was now gone. I had failed. I am a failure. I am incapable of anything. The injuries I had sustained to my brain had left me feeling hopeless. Irrational had become rational. I sat there that night thinking I should get a gun to kill myself. That would make me feel better. I wouldn’t have to burden anybody any longer. I then thought “how do you get a gun”? I am even incapable of a simple task such as this. It is amazing to see how far you can let yourself fall. How little you feel you can control. I am still amazed that I could ever feel the way I used to feel. After all, being negative is the easiest thing in the world to be. I am lucky that my mind no longer controls me. I control my mind. I control my life. Anything I want, I can have. At some point over the course of my life I had forgotten that I can experience joy.
I want to thank everyone who has supported this walk along the way. I am forever grateful.