KATELYN SCHMISSEUR
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Day twenty-three of being stuck in the middle of nowhere. Like every morning, I lay in my sleeping bag, cross my fingers and hope that staff won’t say—
“GOOD MORNING LADIES! WE ARE HIKING TODAY, SO PACK UP EVERYTHING!”
Great. Now, I have to take down my shelter (which might I add, has an amazing ridge line thanks to my sublime clover-hitch-knot tying abilities). Then, I have the pleasure of stuffing my sleeping bag—along with my bow-drill set, laundry, weekly rations, etcetera—into my already-cramped (but seventy pound) backpack. During this process, getting cactus spines stuck in every inch of open skin is inevitable. Additionally, I have to come to terms that the bananas in my rations will be undeniably bruised upon arrival to the new campsite.
It goes without saying that hiking is an arduous task. At least, that’s what I thought during my early days of wilderness therapy.
Welcome to the Entrada Desert, home of a therapy program devoted to helping clients heal through the power of the great outdoors. At first, I couldn’t comprehend how hiking, making my own fire, or living without plumbing could possibly treat my eating disorder—the most pressing issue in my life. I thought I just needed to gain a few pounds to magically become cured. Little did I know that eating disorders are addictions: that they are mental rather than simply physical. It wasn’t until I spent more time in the backcountry until I realized that my lack of eating did not stem from a desire to be skinny. Rather, starving was my method to gain control over my life when everything else was out of equilibrium.
As the weeks progressed, I fell in love with hiking. The more I hiked, the more energy I needed. The more energy I needed, the more I ate. I began to realize that my body was not a piece of clay I could manipulate. Rather, it is a fortress. My legs carried me to see cascading valleys created by stunning red-rock mountains and the muscles in my arms allowed me to carry the food I needed to nourish my body. I began to worry less about the calories in my trail mix and more about how I could acquire more stamina to explore the desert around me. I learned that life was too short to be worrying about the number on the scale—there are far too many places to explore to be trapped in a prison of your own bones. This program opened my mind and helped me to realize that I was not engaging in unhealthy behaviors simply because I wanted to be thin. I learned that my eating disorder was a physical manifestation of my own insecurity and feelings of powerlessness. I realized that by not eating, I was only feeding my then-insatiable hunger for complete control of my life. By my last week in the field, I was fully committed to recovery. I owed it to not only myself, but to my loved ones. I was determined to become something great once I returned to the front country and imbued with motivation to inspire other people suffering from addiction.
Day 477 back home in Honolulu. Every morning, I make myself a strawberry smoothie and curl up on the hammock outside with my cat. I seldom diet anymore and I smashed my scale with a hammer months ago. Instead of counting calories, I count my blessings. Since being home, I have developed a great love for the island I live on. The lush Ko’olau mountains and the white-sand beaches on the north shore offer me serenity, something my eating disorder never did. I no longer crave complete control. I crave adventure, I crave peace, and I crave inspiration. Now, I am hungrier than ever. Not for food, but for fulfillment.
Mark my words: I will feast.