My Extended Experience

 If you asked me what my nightmare was, I would most definitely saying being hated by everyone in the world. Loneliness, rejection, and also random weird things like cats freak me out. But something I did not realize until this experience is that I have a huge fear of lack of control. It keeps me from a lot of things: memories, living in the moment, spontaneous adventures, late night talks with my sister when she knocks on my door…all because it is not what I had planned. Spending hours outdoors while I am stress-free sounds like a dream to me, something I yearn for yet out of reach, but during the school year, it might be one of the things I dread the most. An outdoor experience does not invoke thoughts of moments of magic in nature but rather anxiety from being away from my studies. I plan almost every second of my life to a T. I have google calendar, planner, daily planner, alarms, and phone reminders. Some might call me OCD, and I would respond by saying they are likely absolutely correct in that diagnosis. 

That is why I am grateful for classes like this one. Ones that force me to break from my schedule and really focus on all that I have right in front of me. I heard a quote the other day, “if you keep on dying to be in college, then dying to be married, then dying to be rich, you will never get to live.” 

With a free weekend in sight, and an MCAT schedule that did not yet embark, my family and I took a trip down the Brazos. This has always been something my dad has had on his bucket list. Growing up, my dad spent every weekend fishing, camping, hiking, and any other outdoor activity with his brothers and cousins. He has 13 brothers and sisters so growing up I have always had a huge tribe of cousins to play with. If anyone was upset at someone, you would just play with someone else. They instilled in us the love for nature and childlike fun through cub scouts, family trips to the lake, camping adventures, and screen time limits(probably the most potent force of all). 

Somewhere along the line, I lost site of that childlike fun and got consumed instead with productivity and perfectionism. But what is ironic about the strive for perfectionism is that you will never be enough to yourself. 

Being immersed in quiet allowed me a lot of time to think as we took steady strokes down the river. We had parked at the end and had some friends drive us up and drop us off with canoes and our tents. I ended up in the canoe with my parents while my siblings were all in the other canoe. At first I was bummed because I felt left out, but I ended up really enjoying the time with my parents. 

I found that as I continued to stroke through the water, what at first became a race with myself of how much longer I felt like I had to paddle to an enjoyment of playing with the water, feeling the gliding sensation of the water over the paddle. Tranquil monotony would be broken by fish snapping quickly out of the water and diving down again, the hum of bugs as we neared sunset, and floating dragonflies landing on the water sending ripples through the surface.

I don’t remember what I talked about with my parents, notes to myself along my arms had been washed off by the river, laughter of my sister’s cackle filled the air, and for once, I wasn’t freaking out about what I must have forgotten. 

My mind races thousands of miles and hour and that is why conversation is typically hard for me. I tell around 5 different stories then forget what my point was in the first place. I laugh it off but I do think it is something I should probably get checked out. As I focused on paddling instead of my busy thought, conversation was natural, it was easy, it was thoughtless. 

The lifted moods got even higher as we finally neared the site deemed our sleeping site for the night. It was a little terrifying hearing someone scream that they had been bitten by a snake and frantically paddle up the river, but we quickly distracted ourselves with splashing, sliding, and swimming in the river as our “shower.” The water was refreshingly cold and I felt like the child deep inside of me as I slid down our makeshift slide from miniature rapids as the sun was setting and the sky was glowing pink. We started a fire and roasted some marshmallows for smores as we told our favorite stories. I love picking my dad’s brain about his childhood because he came to the united states during the Vietnam war, so he always has a lot of cool stories he does not tell unless prompted to. As conversations ended, we gathered into our tent and stared up at the star filled sky. Our net had a mesh so we could all stare through. We all managed to see a shooting star except for my youngest brother, Duc who is neck and neck with me for being the least patient in the family. I felt bad as he got increasingly frustrated with every “Oh I saw another one!” from my older sister and dad. I don’t know if they were actually seeing them or just messing with Duc since that would be typical of them, the pranksters of the family. 

I don’t remember falling asleep but was not the most enthusiastic the next morning with the paddle ahead. I made us all some pb banana jelly sandwiches for breakfast as my sister cleaned up camp with my dad. My brothers loaded the canoes, and my mom went around cleaning because we have always been taught to leave it better than you found it. 

As we neared our end, instead of the usual faster paddling, I found myself sitting back and trying to soak up the last seconds. I felt the sun warm the skin on my face as we passed under bridges and past more trees. As we heard the congratulatory “you made it’s!” I knew my extended experience had come to an end for the time being. I hope to continue this extended experience approach to life as I continue on. Life is always going to be busy. But it doesn’t mean that I have to be as well.