In the August of 2015 I moved to Charleston to go to college. I didn’t stay for very long but that 17 month period had a bigger impact on me than I ever would’ve imagined. It transitioned me out of childhood and molded me into the person I am today.
Ever since then I’ve returned to Charleston at least once a year to experience the city again. I took my yearly pilgrimage earlier this week and was faced with not what I was hoping for, but what I needed.
As soon as I unpacked my stuff at the Notso Hostel, I set off on foot to see all my favorite sights and get lost down memory lane. I took in King Street in all its glory. Some guy drove by blaring a song I used to listen to when I lived there. I caught up to him after he rear-ended another car. So it goes. I heard bits and pieces of conversations from the gorgeous people obsessed with spending money. All the usual stuff.
But by the time I circled back to walk through campus, I was overcome with a deep sadness. I wanted to call it loneliness and keep it moving but it was something much more than that. It was the reluctant realization that the version of Charleston I hold so dear isn’t real anymore.
For several years I’d come back to the city and hear someone yell my name or I’d run into old friends somewhere. It made me feel like things hadn’t changed. But as I walked through campus at 27 years old, it became glaringly obvious that the Charleston I remember only exists in my mind. The high of nostalgia wore off and I was forced to reckon with the present moment.
It was an unexpected lesson in impermanence (one of my least favorite things). Sure everything about the city is roughly the same. The bridge is still gorgeous, the sunsets are still the best at the battery, Gilroy’s still stays open til 3 AM. But the year is 2024 and nothing’s the same. All the people I loved have come and gone and I’m now a stranger in one of the most familiar places to me. And that’s okay; that’s actually how it’s supposed to go.
Realizing this sparked an immense sense of freedom that allowed me to be 27 year old Hunter in 2024, not 19 year old Hunter in 2016. It made it glaringly obvious that clinging to the past, even through fond memories, was robbing me of all the joy the present moment has to offer. Just like it says over the door of Bert’s Market in Folly (pictured above), what I almost wrote off as just feeling lonely was a potent reminder to be here now.
Since writing my first post on here, I’ve started and not finished several new posts. I’ve gotten inspired to write but after some time my inner critic will pick up his megaphone and start cutting deep.
What makes you qualified to write about this? Sure you can regurgitate information for a college essay, but you can’t come up with original works. You’ll be the biggest hypocrite when you eventually fail and don’t live up to your words. This idea sucks, you should delete it and start over. No one cares what you have to say. You’re not good enough.
These same thoughts made me spend days rereading and reworking my first post until I felt that it was perfect. While the content of these harsh thoughts are unique to writing this blog, the theme is nothing new. They are just the latest manifestations of my deepest and oldest insecurity of not being good enough.
Now I don’t blame my parents for this insecurity, they were doing the best they could with the expectations of parenting in our culture. But at some point along the way, I (as well as most people, I imagine) internalized a message that there are things about me in my natural state that are unacceptable. This resulted in feelings of unworthiness/inadequacy and the belief that I have to do good in order to be good enough.
I developed a general negative feeling toward myself that I tried to disprove through my experiences, interactions, achievements, etc. An example given by Ram Dass demonstrates my experience perfectly: You try hard, you get an A, and you feel good. But if you don’t quite get the A, it’s not like you feel nothing… you feel bad. The baseline has become negative, not zero. If I existed in any state outside of the ideal (the A) I felt bad about myself. I felt unacceptable, unworthy, unlovable, not good enough. My mind was devoid of self-compassionate thoughts and only felt satisfied when meeting an ideal.
A form of perfectionism emerged as a defense mechanism. I only want to put myself out there if I can “get the A.” If I can’t for whatever reason, I self-sabotage and don’t even try to avoid the feelings of not being good enough. For me, this shows up as not wanting to go to the gym until I feel like I’m in good enough shape to be seen in the gym, getting the urge to drop a class if I don’t think I’m going to make an A, not wanting to date if I don’t feel like I’m currently the perfect version of myself, or wanting to scrap a post if it doesn’t feel perfect. If I don’t feel like my worth will be directly or indirectly validated by others, I don’t even want to put myself out there.
I still struggle with this insecurity but I’ve gotten glimpses of freedom through therapy and spiritual practices. Undoing a lifetime of programming is a slow process, but today I’m on the path of acceptance. The teachings of Ram Dass have been invaluable to my growth in this area.
I always thought the way out of disliking myself was learning to love myself. Unfortunately, I’ve found that as long as I’m operating in the pendulum of polarities, things will always swing back towards feeling not good enough. So the answer seems to be to move beyond the polarities of love and hate to first reach a place of merely acknowledging myself. I must look at my own good, bad, and ugly without judging, just acknowledging. Removing judgment helps me see how poignant this insecurity is and invokes feelings of self-compassion.
Once I’m able to accept and see my own truth with some compassion, the next step is to share it. As long as I’m stuck in negative judgment towards myself, I can only assume others will judge me in a similar light; so vulnerability is terrifying. This fear of vulnerability only reinforces feelings of inadequacy. But a pinch of self-compassion makes it seem possible that someone else may see my truth without judgment and opens the door for vulnerability. I got my first ever glimpse of this in therapy and can distinctly remember the sense of freedom I felt after sharing my truth with someone and not receiving judgment in return. It began to erode years of reinforcement of the belief that I’m not good enough.
Today, I strive to acknowledge and appreciate myself as I am in the present moment. I often fall short of this on my own so I have supports in my life that help me reach acceptance through vulnerability. I see my therapist on a regular basis, I’ve developed some close bonds with people who help me see myself in a compassionate light (shout out M.H. and J.B.), and I share parts of myself through these posts.
In 2018 I dropped out of college at 21 and entered treatment for a severe addiction I couldn’t beat on my own. Early in my recovery process I made a bunch of unlikely friends that I never would’ve naturally encountered had I not gone through such a traumatic experience. The unlikeliest (and my favorite) of them all was an at the time 44 year-old strip club DJ. He had a unique way of looking at the world that made sense to me at a time in my life where nothing else did. Being around him so much altered my perspective on many things, but one stands out to this day. He showed me the river I grew up by in an entirely new light. Instead of seeing the Saluda River simply as a recreational location, I began to see her as a spiritual teacher. From that day on she has been continuously teaching me.
The kinds of messages I have received directly or indirectly from the Saluda River have always been both what I needed to hear and what I was capable of hearing. I’m gonna list some of the most important lessons I’ve learned to give you a better idea of what I mean.
Surrender to the Flow
Towards the end of my time attempting to control an addiction that had reached its final stage, it truly felt like every day was spent swimming against a current. Each day was an exhausting effort that left me further from where I wanted to go. The moment I surrendered and sought help, I experienced the relief of allowing the flow to take me. As a spiritual practice during the early parts of my healing process, I would get into the Saluda and swim upriver for as long I could before giving up and allowing the current to carry me back to safety. It was my reminder to stop fighting.
Today this message is still important as ever even though it no longer pertains to recovery from addiction. Now when I’m reminded to surrender to the flow, it’s because I’m clinging to something/someone, fearing change/impermanence, or (and) thinking I have a better plan than the Universe. Surrendering to the Universal Flow has been a practice in acceptance and letting go.
Create an Environment Where Others Can Flourish Just From Your Presence
A side effect of spending time floating down the Saluda River in a tube is an immense feeling of gratitude. Seeing the sunning turtles, vibrant mimosa flowers, skittish rabbits, deep green vegetation, and undeniably cute river otters leaves me incredibly grateful for the Saluda for making this symphony of nature possible. She isn’t doing anything special, just being present.
I received this message at a time when I was doing peer support work in an addiction treatment center. As someone without a college degree working alongside licensed counselors and social workers, I felt very out of place and unqualified to be doing any kind of work similar to them. When I would run a group, I felt immense pressure to do the same things my LPC and MSW counterparts would do without anywhere near the amount of formal training they had. I felt like I had to run the perfect group every time and I always came prepared with the perfect plan that would solve everyone’s issues. Things obviously didn’t work out the way I wanted. There would always be the “resistant” group member that threw a wrench in my plans or an unengaged group that didn’t want to do the perfect worksheet I prepared.
It wasn’t until I received this message that I realized I was the issue. All the anxiety and planning took me out of the present moment. I was unable to hold space for people to grow at their own pace because I was too busy trying to fix everyone. From then on I went into groups with one goal: to create an environment with my presence that allowed people to come up for air if they wanted to. The Saluda doesn’t actively work to save turtles, she simply allows them to dip into her waters if they want to elude danger. So I too ditched the mindset of needing to save anyone. I listened with empathy and offered my presence and knowledge to anyone who wished to utilize it. As soon as my focus shifted to fostering an environment that allowed for change instead of shoving change down peoples’ throats, my groups became more productive than ever. And what a relief this revelation was – I’m not responsible for fixing or saving anyone!
This lesson is by no means exclusive to running therapeutic groups. Today I utilize this lesson to be present when spending time with friends or loved ones. I also use it while waiting tables. I don’t set out with a goal of being anyone’s favorite server. I simply approach tables presently and allow the customer(s) to join me or not. Sometimes tables want me to shut up and bring them their food – and that’s okay. Sometimes tables want to tell me what’s going on in their lives and hear about mine – and that’s okay too.
Feel Your Fear Then Trust You’ll Be Taken Care Of
Every time I swim out into the river, I’m immediately overcome with panic. As my body is immersed in the cold water, my mind floods with the fear that every bad thing that could happen will happen. This is the time the river monster finally gets me.
For a while I thought the solution was to be brave and ignore my fear; to overcome it with sheer willpower. Unfortunately this never worked – and believe me, I tried. I ended up finding the answer in a simple new approach: feel my fear fully, acknowledge it as being valid, then trust that it will all be okay. So now, as always, I take that first step into the mud and swim out in a state of pure fear. But instead of attempting to conquer my fear, I trust that my intentions are pure and because of that the river will take care of me. That may sound a little kooky but I don’t care – it works. When I do that, I stop feeling the cold. A warm comfort comes over me as I feel Mother Saluda’s love for me. I lose my sense of separateness and feel that everything’s gonna be okay. I have very little say in what happens in the middle of the river, so instead of trying to gain control, I choose to trust I’ll be cared for.
This lesson is transferable to any fears I may have. Because of my anxious attachment style, a common fear of mine is that partners will leave me. As a result of ridicule from some (most likely avoidant) friends, I tried for a while to ignore this fear or work to eliminate it. It didn’t go away. The more I tried to overcome it through willpower, the more pervasive it became. Through insight gained from therapy, I now acknowledge that yes, people might leave me… but I will be taken care of no matter what. This shift in perspective makes each interaction feel special and minimizes distress caused by the idea that I won’t be okay if someone isn’t in my life anymore.
Create Your Own Path In Pursuit of What Calls You
The Saluda River follows the pull of the Atlantic Ocean. Her path back to the source isn’t at all linear; she twists, turns, and adapts to both pre-existing obstacles and new ones as they arise. But no matter how unconventional her path is, she’s always conscious of where she’s heading.
This is the most recent message I’ve received from the Saluda. I interpret this as first needing to be aware of what’s calling me. This can (and will) change, so my commitment needs to be with truth, not consistency (shout out Gandhi). Continuing to pursue something that no longer calls me for consistency’s sake is in service of my ego, not my soul. Next, I need to embrace the inevitable non-linearity of the path I’m creating by maintaining momentum regardless of how many times I’m redirected by life’s obstacles.
I realized I finally internalized this message when an old high school friend was sat at one of my tables last week. I’ve always been embarrassed to catch up with old friends who followed the traditional path because I saw my unconventional journey as proof that I was failing/falling behind. But this time, with no shame or embarrassment, I told a guy the same age as me with a college degree, girlfriend, home, and good paying job that I’m still working on my undergraduate, single, living with my dad, and waiting tables. I found peace in knowing I’m right where I need to be on my own unique path towards what’s calling me.
Final Thoughts
Thinking like a river is an ongoing process of spiritual and emotional growth that I strive towards. I’m working on being open to new messages and continuing to integrate old ones into my life. If you’re feeling stuck, lost, or in need of guidance, I highly recommend spending some time in or near your local river and seeing what comes up. It just might change your life.
