It was a few days into my first attempt at sobriety; before work was no longer consumed with hangovers and after work was no longer spent escaping. I had no idea how to be still or be with my feelings, which caused an unavoidable anxiety in my whole body. I was sitting on my couch when I received a call that triggered an anxiety attack. My first thought was take a pill (no longer an option). My second thought was to crack a beer (also not an option). My third thought, and the one that stuck, was to go for a run. My hands were so shaky that I could barely put on my shoes and my mind was so foggy, I was a few hundred feet out the door before I realized my laces weren’t tied. I ran well into the dark for more miles than I’d ever run at once. My goal was to run until I felt like my chest wasn’t going to explode with anxiety… and it worked! Somewhere on the rail trail that follows the Youghiogheny River, I found my stride. I started pushing my body faster and further, until it literally felt like I was soaring. In that moment I found confidence in my running ability to move me through any anxiety that may present itself in my newfound healing journey.

In an effort to ditch everything that didn’t support this journey, I sold most of my belongings and moved into my car. I know, a dramatic move, but hear me out; I worked at a resort spa and had access to showers + employee meals. I had a free and safe place to park my car with access to public restrooms, as well as a full camp kitchen, a -25 degree sleeping bag and a comfy bed set up. I’ve been car camping with my family for my entire life and for me, this was comfortable and felt like total freedom. I would wake up in the Ohiopyle park, go for a run, go to work and then go to yoga. This was my simple routine for months. I had no space for lounging on the couch, binge watching shows every night or avoiding my feelings by redecorating. On my days off I would travel to the Dolly Sods Wilderness area to camp and run.

The time I spent in the Sods was sacred, then for the beautiful wilderness, but looking back, for much different reasons. During those grueling, technical, steep, long runs, I started to come home to myself. I would pack my bag with lots of water, snacks and layers, take a picture of the map and just go. I didn’t focus on specific trails, I just went where my body told me. I walked when it was hard and sprinted when I needed to move through an emotion. I would stop when I was crying too hard to see and I noted every single thought I had in a healing journal. Once I knew I had depleted my physical and emotional energy for the day, I would look at the map and make my way back to the car, where I would make dinner, crawl into my sleeping bag and review all the crazy, weird, big, sad, alive thoughts that came up during my run. After months of living this way, I noticed that some of the same thoughts would arise. Some thoughts would continue and get deeper and some would taper off because they actually weren’t that important.

Once I was ready to move into a home, I still continued my running practices. Some days I would be too emotionally tired to muster up the motivation to run. On those days I would end up laying in bed, letting my mind spin around itself until I finally got my ass out of bed and went for a run at 2am.

Years later, I read a book by Colin O’Brady, the famous American explorer, called The 12 hour walk, that explains the science behind walking, running, biking, skiing, or generally moving to better process thoughts, feelings, stuck emotions and past trauma. I was shocked to hear that my desperate grasp for relief was incredibly similar to his suggested practices for realigning your life.

So, why am I telling you this story?

I once dated an alcoholic (actually, I’ve dated many, but I’m talking about one in particular) who decided to sober up to save our relationship. I was so sure that every struggle I overcame led me to this moment of supporting his journey into sobriety. I knew all about the best non alcoholic beverage options and how to “treat yo self” with something sweet to curb the sugar craving that comes with detoxing from booze. I was well practiced at handling the specific crankiness that sets in at week 2 and 3, and month 3, 6, 7 and 8. I would constantly check in with him, and was shocked when he said he felt fine; no panic attacks, fits of rage, hopeless uproars of tears, nothing that I had experienced in my early days. I naively assumed this meant he was far better equipped and committed than I was. Perhaps some struggling addicts effortlessly float through into sobriety. Nah, that wasn’t the case at all.

When you finally make the decision to stop numbing, all the shit that you’ve been pushing down will inevitably come to the surface. If you simply stop numbing without actually addressing that shit, the anxiety will eat at you until you absolutely cannot handle one more fucking second without a damn drink, and then you fall back into the hole that you once again need to crawl out of (eventually). However, if you stop numbing with the understanding that difficult emotions and unfelt feelings will 100% arise, you can create a plan to deal with them.

Maybe running isn’t your thing. So try biking, skiing, climbing or pole dancing. Walking is accessible to everyone everywhere. Yoga is movement + breathwork, which is a double whammy for calming your nervous system. The point is to move; intentionally and with finesse.