A Message of Gratitude and Mourning to My Hosts
Sitting here in the Redwoods of Northern California, I am thinking of each of you who hosted me and supported me to get here on this long walk down the coast. Today is day 75 and I have walked 674 of the ~1,600 miles to Los Angeles. That is over one million steps and I can honestly say that I don’t know if I’d be here without you.
I wasn’t really looking for a grand adventure. I just wanted to walk about 15 miles each day, at an average rate of three miles per hour and leisurely make my way to Los Angeles.
Barely a dozen miles from the Peace Arch at the Canada border where I began, I realized that this was going to be a lot more challenging than I planned. My legs ached, my back ached and within a week, I was questioning how I was even going to make it.
Suffice it to say, when I started this walk, I was unprepared. I jumped right into this journey with the basic possessions I already owned for the most part, nothing much especially prepared.
But I had an even bigger problem laying ahead that I was not quite aware of. My workload for the first month was generally in the 40+ hours on the computer, in addition to the walk. This was largely due to my Food Freedom book finally coming out in the midst of my walk and the huge amount of logistics that go with self-publishing a book for the first time and having an order of 5,000 of them delivered to Port Townsend, along the route. With that, I was managing a nonprofit and a team of people as well as my social media pages and trying to share my message via writing and videos. It would have been a whole lot easier if it wasn’t for the seemingly never-ending technical difficulties with the website and book distribution that plagued my first nearly two months of the walk.
All this is to say that many of the times when I arrived at your homes, I was exhausted, overwhelmed and anxious. Many days I was experiencing substantial anxiety and stress, having taken on more than I could handle. I was sleeping poorly, waking up and working for multiple hours before beginning the day and squeezing in as many hours of work as I could before bed. I was lacking in autonomy, being so attached to finding WiFi every day and having little control over my surroundings, constantly overstimulated by the sounds of traffic. I could see how off balance I was by the amount of cravings I was having for comforts. There were just so many of my basic needs that were not being met very sufficiently. And this was all my own doing. I take full responsibility for my struggles.
Simply put, I was often arriving on an empty tank mentally and physically.
And there you were to welcome me with open arms. To share your life and your home. A place to relax my tired body. Food to nourish me. A comfortable place to sleep. WiFi and a place to sit to do my work. I am so grateful to each of you for your support. I am holding each of you dearly in my mind and heart. You helped to meet so many of my basic needs for community, connection, nourishment, stability, warmth, relaxation, rest, focus, power in my world, self-care and so many more. I feel so grateful, warm and joyful thinking of you and your support for me. I am so happy for our connection.
At the same time, I am mourning. While you were there for me, I was not fully there for each of you. For some of us, the timing aligned and we had the utmost of joyous and connected times. But for others, I look back and I also feel heavyhearted, disappointed, grief and, to be honest, just embarrassed.
I was often too busy with my own life to be present with yours. On multiple occasions, I did not manage to give as much as I received and there was an imbalance in the relationship there.
One of my hosts shared feedback that I was rude. Another said that they did not feel connected to me, and rather felt a disconnection. This was not an incredible surprise to me, but when I did hear this, I felt substantial despair. I felt deflated and worn out. Because I knew it was true.
I’ve heard this from others before. Some experience me to be short and sharp. Some say I’m “kind of an asshole” or a “dick.” Some receive my communication as condescending or as if I am putting them down. I’ve gotten this feedback many times over the last handful of years.
The reason I’m disheartened now is that I’ve put in so much work and I thought I was further along. I never wanted anyone to feel disempowered, insecure, disconnected or withdrawn in my presence. But it does happen and it has happened on this trip.
I have been practicing Nonviolent Communication/Compassionate communication for the last three years and I have come a long way. But it is obvious I still have much work to do to speak compassionately and with warmth, care and loving energy. This does not come easily to me and only comes through many hours of reprogramming of the mind.
I can’t change the past. But I can acknowledge that your feelings are valid. I can hope that reflecting what you’ve felt might help you to be understood and seen and heard and to meet your needs for acknowledgement. I love you and care for you, even if my actions did not fully show it during our time together. If I had the capacity, I’d walk back to each of your homes to hear everything that is alive in you from our time together.
I’ve learned through the practice of NVC that empathy is one of the greatest medicines that exists and can heal most, if not all, relationships and struggles. This note is my way of sharing my empathy for you.
At the same time, I am also seeking to be understood and to receive empathy as well. If you care to understand me, I invite you to read a little more.
Communication has long been a struggle for me. Although some see me as an excellent communicator, I also have great struggles and they are fairly frequent.
I have two brothers with Asperger’s and when I communicate, I often see myself in them. When I read the description of Asperger’s, I was reading a description of my own mind.
I really struggle with over stimulation. I need a lot of alone time and even small amounts of stimulation when I’m already overstimulated can be extremely painful for me inside. Lights and sounds are something I struggle with. So staying in people’s homes can be difficult when I’m on an empty tank, especially with lights at night or even some basic sounds like the hum of a fridge. In my life when I’m alone, I try not to speak for my last few hours before bed and until a few hours after I awaken. This brings me a great sense of calm and charges me up. When I don’t have this quiet time, I am often running on empty.
I really struggle with communicating on basic logistics as well as repeating myself. This is something deep within me from childhood. It is my natural state to just take action and go with the flow of my movements. Thus, having conversations of planning logistics such as what to cook, what time to do this and that, where the light switches are, etc., can all result in my feeling anxious or overwhelmed. It is my natural state to operate autonomously.
Being on the road and staying with others when I’m not charged up is a recipe for stressful communication.
I find that my relationships are strongest when I am able to understand people’s communication styles and they are able to understand mine. This is rarely possible in such a short time. For the last couple years, I have minimized my intimate interactions with others in order to minimize the types of communications I struggle with, with people whose communication style is not yet clear to me.
I really struggle to communicate compassionately when I’m trying to maximize efficiency. I have a very hard time mentally multi-tasking socialization and productivity. And on this trip I have been trying to use almost every minute that I had, to unbury myself and break free from the hole I had dug myself into. When I was staying with you, and I was working on my computer, it was very hard to pull myself away from it. Even when I do pull myself away from it, it often takes time to rest my mind. And jumping from my tasks directly into communication can be just as challenging for me.
What I’ve learned is that it is in the best interest of others and myself for me to only stay with people when I can be present with them and I have a relatively full tank. When I met many of you, I was in a vulnerable position. I was in need of support and I took the risk with your heart and mine. For this, I mourn greatly when I did not manage to be present and compassionate with you. I may not have been giving to you in the moment, but I certainly am trying to give everything that I have to give to our fellow humanity and Earth.
Since leaving Florence two weeks ago, I have been making a home almost every night in my tent, usually in the woods. I am grateful to have had a lot of solitude and silence, to sleep with the stars overhead and minimal stimulation. (But I still hear the highway all night long on many nights.) My tank is being refilled and I am existing much more in the present state, with mindfulness and gratitude. My empathy tank is still on low, but it is filling up.
There is much more I could say, but that is it for now. I love each of you and I am grateful for you.
Love,
Robin
I share my gratitude with the Dear Friends who hosted me in Washington: Gretel in Blaine, Carter in Bellingham, Mark in Edison, Mark and Sofia in Greenbank, Richard in Port Ludlow, Judy, Greg, Mark, Alba and Village Seed in Port Townsend, Sarah in Olympia and Tais and Carson in Elma.
I share my gratitude with the Dear Friends who hosted me in Oregon: Merm in Portland, Lisa in Astoria, Jessi in Wheeler, Hollyjo in Rockaway Beach, Andrea and Dennis in Bay City, Duncan in Otis, Priscilla in Eugene, Angel in Depoe Bay, Dede and Bob in Florence, Erica and Matt in North Bend, Jacquie and Dave in Bandon.
I share my gratitude with the Dear Friends who supported me with transportation and supplies. Bobby, Heather, Libby, Phoenix and Eric in Washington and Lisa, Leslie, Shannon and Eddie in Oregon.
I share my gratitude with the Port Townsend and Olympic Peninsula Community; especially Judy Alexander, Greg Sachs, Mark Cooper, Libby Landes, Rebecca Richards, Ashley Kehl, Delylah Ove, Denise Joy and Daniel and Rachel Shyles.
Further Reading:
My Experience with Nonviolent Communication
A Letter of Mourning: