Risking it all to find happiness

By Brianna Dean

Thanksgiving Day, 2009: I gazed out the window at the glare from snow-capped mountains and thought to myself, “Wow, it’s a great day to ski”. While sipping coffee, I threw on my usual ski gear and grabbed the twin-tip’s for a nice day of carving powder. The ride up the gondola to the base of Breckenridge Mountain was quieter than usual, but it didn’t seem to bother me. The view was remarkable. I adjusted my goggles and couldn’t think of a place I’d rather be at that moment. Let me take you back a few years…

Early April, 2007: It was a gloomy Sunday evening in Kansas City, Missouri and I had just walked in the door from my typical grocery store purchase: water, turkey, bread, saltine crackers, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. The sun set behind overcast skies accentuating the already dreary day. After putting away the groceries I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was 6:00pm. I had no roommate to converse with, no cable to fall asleep to. I could hear the clock ticking. Every tick was another wasted moment. It was almost time to crack open the wine and drink myself into a slumber.

I was dreading work the next day. 8 hours of staring out my office window toward the West hoping that if I tried hard enough, I would eventually see what I knew was on the other side of the Flint Hills of Kansas. On the other side sat the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Canyon, the San Marcos Mountains…even the beautiful Pacific Ocean that I once took advantage of while growing up in Southern California. I knew it was all there. So why wasn’t I? Why do I only visit these places and not live there, I thought? Why do I still live in a city that leaves me depressed and uncomfortable? What am I still doing here?

My mind started to wander and soon I found myself flooded with thoughts. I was mentally beating myself up for not making the proper changes in order to be happy. I was obviously depressed. Every Sunday was the same, every day of work was the same, every evening, morning, and minute was the same: lonely and repetitive. I started to feel anxiety take over when I asked myself one final question: “Am I so comfortable that I will do this the rest of my life?”. Tears started to flow.

I mustered up the guts to call a friend. I needed company and something to occupy my mind so that it wouldn’t consume me. I arrived at their house, still riddled with anxiety. My stomach was in knots, eyes were darting, and I was sweating more than I should have been. My mind wouldn’t shut up. “Are you going to spend the rest of your life here?” My breaths were deep but seemed to lack oxygen. I became dizzy and adrenaline shot through my veins like someone had drugged me. My friend asked “Are you okay? You look a little nerve-wrecked”. All of a sudden I felt extremely uncomfortable. I couldn’t drag my friend in this. I immediately grabbed my things and left the house. I couldn’t ask for shelter from my own thoughts. I was a ticking time bomb of self-mutilated emotion that was about to blow. Where was I to go if I couldn’t go to my friends?

Mostly cloudy mind with a chance of anxiety storms

I could feel my body start to break down as I ran to my car. An overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety took over as I drove myself to the only place of safety I could think of: the Emergency Room. By the time I ran through the double glass doors of the hospital my face was as red as a fire extinguisher and the knots in my stomach were tearing up my insides. The doctors could hear the difficulty in my breathing and took me to the back right away. I woke up 20 minutes later laying in a hospital bed with an IV stuck in my right arm. Unaccompanied in a curtained room, I heard only the voices of nurses fluttering by. There I was, alone again. Unsure what they gave me, the doctors released me after handing me various prescriptions for anxiety.

It was about 2:00am when I got home, my eyes were red and puffy and I climbed into my bed. Was this going to happen again next Sunday?

Monday Morning: I slipped into my office without anyone noticing and kept my sunglasses on so that no one would see my severely swollen eyes. I knew I couldn’t hide it for long. My boss peeked his head in and said, “Hey, ding-dong, take your sunglasses off. You look ridiculous”. I pulled them off and tried desperately not to look up, but it wasn’t enough to keep my boss quiet. 

As soon as he asked the dreaded question, “What’s wrong?”, I verbally blasted every thought that was on my mind at that moment. My god, I had no idea how depressed I was until it all started to pour out. My boss just stared at me, shocked. He phoned in the President and the three of us discussed my situation for almost 2 hours. My employers were like family and wanted me to be happy. The President announced he would give me 3 months pay up front to go and find happiness. The catch? I couldn’t come back. I’ll never forget the words from my boss that day. He said, “Brianna, you gotta go find what makes you happy because it’s obviously not here. Go to France! Maybe that makes you happy. You won’t know what it is until you go find it”.

I was given the afternoon off and went back the next day to get my big, generous check. What to do now? I drove home and stared at the ceiling again. What do you do when someone gives you time and money, the two things that no one ever has? I had no idea. I spent the afternoon at a coffee shop looking at job listings in Kansas City. It hadn’t hit me yet. I wandered in to a book store and found a spiral-bound book of driving maps for the United States. Suddenly it hit me. I bought the book and ran out of the store. I realized that I was given time, and I didn’t want to waste it. My money would run out eventually and I didn’t want to blow it staying where I started. I then went over to a sports equipment store and bought an expensive backpack. I didn’t know what the hell for, but I needed it. I planned to fill the backpack with some essentials and explore in search of enlightenment. 

The next week was spent planning amazing trips! I contacted friends in other states and reserved couches and spare beds. My sister was planning out her internship in Kansas City and offered to pay my rent while I was away in exchange for use of my apartment. Everything was falling into place. Over the next few months I ventured off to Chicago, St. Louis, Colorado Springs, Phoenix, Denver, Los Angeles and Santa Monica. Every day was spent exploring and seeking what excited me. I started to realize my flexibility: I was not on a lease, I had no boyfriend, no pets, no job. Now was the time to change things!

Denver Skyline - Grass Is Always Greener

Denver won my heart after spending a few days with some friends downtown. I headed back to Kansas City and applied for jobs near the Rocky Mountains. I was still on a rush of excitement that I was really going to change things. I got a phone call from a potential employer in Denver and asked if I could come in for an interview that Thursday. I panicked a little thinking that a last minute plane ticket would affect my funds so I decided to drive out for the interview instead. It was a time consuming and expensive risk that I was willing to take. Sure enough, that Wednesday night I drove 8 hours to get to Denver for that fateful interview. He offered me the job on the spot. I accepted.

I anxiously boxed up my belonging and moved with great anticipation of starting fresh in Colorado. I’ve been living happily in Denver for almost three years now. My anxiety quickly disappeared and a sense of calmness has came over me. I’m finally in a place I can call home, found new activities that I love, and have met friends that will last a lifetime. I look back on my situation years ago and wonder what would have happened to me had I not listened to my own warning signs (and my boss’s advice).

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.

I have found that this proverb is often spoken to make people think that, in reality, other circumstances are often not as desirable as they may appear. People who are afraid of change try to discourage others from changing by explaining that the grass is not greener; it’s the same dull grass. Maybe they are comfortable and like their grass just the way it is. I am happy for those that can be content in any situation. I am, however, not one of those people. The point is, I don’t want to live my life trusting that all the grass in the world is the same color. I want to experience it myself. Maybe the grass is the same color, but what if the other side of the fence has grass covered in snow, or kittens chasing bugs, or a beautiful pond surrounded by wildflowers. Despite what people say, you may never know until you jump the fence.

Brianna Dean is an outdoor enthusiast with a passion for skiing. She grew up in Southern California and frequently moved as a child until she and her family settled in Kansas, much to her dismay. Feeling trapped and unfulfilled in a comfortable, mundane life, she packed up and moved to Colorado. Although she now calls Denver home, Brianna is currently spending the winter at the base of a mountain while working for a ski company. She enjoys biking, hiking, rock climbing, camping, and playing with her dog, Pali (who is named after a ski lift at Arapahoe Basin). When not working you will find her mastering a 360 at the terrain park, cooking vegetarian dinners, or discussing epic powder days at a dive bar.

By Chris Mc Loone

Lessons Learned While Slaying Dragons With My Son

I’ve found that walks in the woods provide me with more knowledge of dragons than I ever thought possible. Today, as my son Owen and I made our way through his favorite woods, he discovered a rusted caulk gun. He asked me what it was, and I told him, and followed it up with my attempt at an explanation of what it was and how it works, and I failed at it. Turns out I’m not a very good explainer. It kind of bothers me at times, especially when he asks me what words mean. He stumps me every time, and they are simple words. I guess I’ll just live with not being a good explainer at the moment. Maybe I’ll lead by example or something.

So we’re walking through the woods and Owen’s got a hold of the caulk gun, and, to him, it’s treasure. And you never know when you might need something like a caulk gun to take care of some serious business—like finishing off a dragon.

We found the dragon, disguised as a fallen, rotten tree, in the middle of the woods. Owen saw through the disguise immediately and began gutting the dragon straight away. He made quick work of it all with his newfound caulk gun. It’s astounding how handy a caulk gun can be when you’re finishing off a dragon. Now, I’ve fought dragons in the woods with Owen before. The last one was already dead, and I did not know I was reslaying an already slain dragon. Today though, when I told him I thought the dragon was already dead, he exclaimed, “Dragons don’t die unless you take them apart.” And take this one apart he did. At one point he told me he found the dragon’s heart. He took it out and showed it to me. He also found its brain. “Hard as a rock,” he reported. Then he found another heart later. I told him he had already found one, but he informed me this particular dead dragon disguised as a fallen, rotten tree that really wasn’t dead yet since it was in one piece has two hearts. “You touched them with your bare hands,” I said. “That’s gross.” Owen looked up at me, a little winded from all the hard work of disemboweling a dragon with a rusted caulk gun and said, “I’m a man. I have to be gross.” I had no idea grossology was part of manhood. The things you’ll learn in the woods slaying dragons that are not dead yet since they are still in one piece, disguised as fallen, rotten trees.

Dragons from memories past.

I went to my high school recently, for an alumni day celebration. I went to a seminary for high school, and I lived away from home, and it was probably, short of getting married and becoming a father, the richest experience of my life. It has nothing to do with seminary studies or God or anything. I’ve often thought that when I finally sit down and write a story, it’s going to be about St. Joe’s. I don’t think anything has impacted my life the way it has. The memories I have of the place are clear and many. I saw people I have not seen in many, many years yesterday, and as cliché as it sounds, it was as if not a day had gone by. Sure, there was catching up to do, but there was no loss for words like you have so many times with people you’ve not seen in years. It’s the bond we all have from that place. We slept in dormitories of 40 beds and lockers. So, basically we slept together, we ate together, we took classes, and we got into mischief together. It’s an odd bond that I can’t quite explain, but even the men who traveled to Princeton who weren’t from my era shared that bond with me, though theirs was more from a bygone era.

I got to show my kids that place yesterday. But it wasn’t the same place. One wing (we referred to it as “the other side…” but really, “the other side” meant the opposite side of wherever you were) was completely closed off. They could have unlocked it for us, just so we could wander around. It’s not like we’re going to steal anything. The student lounge, once one large room has been made into two. The senior study hall, the size of the student lounge, also has been divided into two rooms. The dining room (or refectory) has the same smell. The same exact smell, and it’s 18 years later for me. The vestibules also, the same smells, and indeed, the gym (which we sneaked into) smelled exactly the same. I showed my wife the gouge in the floor in front of the foul line I used to use to set myself up for foul shots. I’m not quite sure what I did when we switched ends of the court or went to away games. I suppose my free throw percentage went into the toilet at those times.

When you return to a place that has a special place in your heart the way St. Joe’s does for me, it takes you back to a different time. It was a simpler time for me, and I long for it.

Believe me there’s a point to all this, and I do plan to get to it soon, but one more anecdote if you’ll indulge me.

Dragons from friendships past.

I am a volunteer fireman. I’m supposed to say firefighter, but I’m a fireman. In any event, for the past five years I’ve been a Lieutenant, holding two separate positions–2nd Lt., and 1st Lt. This year I’ve been nominated for captain (this is a volunteer fire company, and officers are nominated and elected) and I was nominated to run against my friend. Well, I suppose he’s a friend. He was a mentor to me very early in my career as a vollie. He was in my wedding. I would say that in recent years, as he moved up through the ranks, eventually to assistant chief, we have grown apart as firefighters, which has stressed our friendship. We rarely see eye to eye on policies, procedures, etc. Originally I told Wally I would not run against him for captain. I figured I wasn’t going to run against my friend, and while I disagreed with his moving down from assistant chief to captain, thus not allowing me to move up to captain from lieutenant, I thought was a nice gesture to let him ride out his time as he saw fit.

But then quite honestly, he did several things which made me reconsider that notion, and ultimately, my feeling is the crew would like a choice and so I told him I was going to run for captain, he got up and walked away without a word, save for “OK,” and proceeded to call me a hypocrite via his Facebook status and then defriended me—for real. Seriously, we’re adults.

I suppose I knew this was coming for quite some time, given his personality.

So what is the tie-in? Let me take a sip of my PBR and I promise to get to it.

We all have dragons, whether they are our pasts creeping up on us from time to time to remind us how easy things were or difficult decisions today that remind us just how hard things get as we all get older. I’m a Roman Catholic, which is not exactly a popular thing to be these days given the abuse scandals, and today I was at Church. I don’t pretend to be particularly religious or spiritual, even with my seminary background, but at Church today, the homilist said to the congregation to be grateful for today, because tomorrow, you can’t get today back.

“Be grateful for today, because tomorrow, you can’t get today back.”

Kill your dragons. We all have them. And make sure they are dead. Because a dragon’s not dead until you take it apart. It’s amazing how a dragon can creep up on you after you thought you slayed it. I know I sit there and think, “Damn, I’m sure I killed it. I know I did. It was dead.” Be a man and be gross—kill the dragon. Because when you don’t take the dragons apart, you end up losing days upon days when they creep up, making it impossible for you to be grateful for today.

So I’m going to wake up tomorrow, and, although a 16 year friendship appears to be in the toilet, I’m going to be grateful for it. Why? Well, because I’m a hypochondriac and any day I wake up is a bonus for me.

By Robert J. Ottaviani

Years have a way of washing away a lot of memories but some stay firmly ensconced
and are close to the heart for recall.

When I was a young pre teen little guy looking for adventure I found myself outdoors quite often. There was a kind elderly man in the neighborhood they called “Kangy” who gathered a handful of us every Saturday morning for our sojourn to the woods.
“Kangy” was a short man of Italian descent who had a zest for life and and an interest in our well being. He led our troop with a five foot walking stick which we thought had some kind of magical power. Years later after watching the movie the ten commandments my suspicions were confirmed watching Moses part the red sea with his crooked staph. Our day consisted of watching the deer run up red clay mountain, startling the leopard frogs at leopard frog pond and walking the long winding path while being reminded to stay on the trail to keep out of danger that led us to the caves all the while listening to “Kangy” explaining all the different trees to us.

The caves were always our final destination and it was there right before entering we would pick what seemed like tootsie roll sized blackberries from a huge thicket.We entered cautiously with “kangy” in the lead with his flashlight all the while telling us where to step.We always saved the icebox cave for last as this was your test of manhood because you had to crawl in the small opening and withstand the much colder temperatures inside.All of us emerged feeling a little older and a lot more accomplished.

It was wonderful. My connection with nature was cemented for a lifetime. Now I find myself with my own meager plot of land and doing everything I can to replicate nature as I so fondly remembered it as a child. I’ve planted many trees and shrubs as well as crooked paths that meander throughout. My passion for gardening has taught me life lessons that have served me well in the parenting game. It occurs to me that there are definite parallels between the two. A young seed is planted and is nurtured with love and nourished accordingly.

We watch as it grows and blossoms into something beautiful. No two plants grow the same yet we appreciate each for their individuality. We give them plenty of space to grow and at times when they get rambunctious we clip them to keep them in bounds and manageable. We are forever moving things around until we get a good fit and achieve symmetry.

And so it is with parenting. It’s always about the love. Our legacy isn’t just about us but about our children and their children. So to reap what you sow do your soul a favor and plant a garden of love. Maybe just maybe that’s what “Kangy” was really teaching.

Robert J.Ottaviani (Bert) is a cusp born Aries the ram who has lived through summer
of love in the late sixties and the hippie culture that bled into the seventies. He
has a passion for music,gardening and all things nature … and laffy taffy. He is
freakishly aware of music trivia to absurd levels.Most days you can find him playing
his guitar or jotting down lyrics.He was so impacted from the moment he first heard
the Beatles that he has Beatlemanianized his life,been to Liverpool, England and
remains convinced he is the fifth Beatle.He is married to a gentle and lovely vibe
of a woman with three wonderful children.He currently lives and resides in
strawberry fields forever.