Birthday Escape

The last several years, my birthday has been terrible. Every year, I promise myself next year will be better but it never is. Repeatedly, I go to bed the night of my birthday disappointed. But disappointment follows me everywhere. Even when things start to look better, as if I might actually experience a major change of fortune, it’s just the universe toying with me. Last year, while my birthday was bad, I thought I was finally getting my life on a decent track. I had a new job that I was excited about and I was finally going to have a published book. Now, a year later, the universe is having a laugh at my expense. The job rejected me and the book…well, some of you bought it—thank you—but that’s about it. With the new school year starting, and not being able to find a job, the jaws of depression have opened wide and are threatening to swallow me whole. Not wanting this birthday to be another bad one, especially with all the surrounding anger and sadness, I did what I do best. I packed up my camping gear, tossed it in the car, and hit the road. I know, I am poor and unemployed. How can I have money to travel? Well, I don’t. So, I found a super cheap campsite and I brought along the dehydrated food we didn’t eat over the summer. Getting away doesn’t have to be costly.

Where did I go? My happy place is the beach. In the time before Dad died and Mom sold the Mattituck house that was my sanctuary. It’s where I went when I hated life and needed to escape. And it always healed me, at least partially, but Mom no longer owns it. As a result, Long Island is no longer my safe place. But I still wanted a beach. I considered Cape Cod, but it was too far for a two day trip. Plus the National Seashore doesn’t have camping so the campsites would have been more costly. However, Assateague National Seashore does have a campground. Plus they have the added bonus of having wild horses. It’s also a bit closer than Cape Cod, so I decided to go there. With my Access Pass—a disabled pass that I was able to get after being diagnosed with autism—my entrance fee was free and the campsites are half price.

I left on Thursday morning—the day before my birthday—after G3 left for school. The cats, especially Dante, were not happy. They saw the bags knew what the meant. The drive down wasn’t bad, but I did hit some traffic going through Philadelphia. Still I arrived just after noon. It was hot and the campground is on the beach so I burned my feet—yes, I was wearing flip-flops—while I set up the tent. Once the tent was up, I headed down to the water. The ocean was lovely. I do love this beach. The water was only mildly rough but the temperature was perfect. I remember to bring a beach umbrella, so after swimming, I sat on a towel in the shade and read. I’ve been here before and when we come we always see the horses, but today I saw them on the beach for the first time. Several of them took a walk along the shore, but three of them decided to wade into the waves. They stood in the water, letting the waves break on their backs. I suppose even horses need to cool off on a hot day. Watching the horses brought me a great deal of joy. I actually felt like a kid, I was so excited when I first noticed them strolling by.

Sunset was beautiful. I drove over to the marsh and watched as the sun sank through the clouds and painted the sky pink and orange. The water reflected both the colors and clouds giving the landscape a sense of symmetry.

I have traveled around the world—much of that traveling solo—and I have camped throughout much of the United States, but this is the first time I am camping alone. The night symphony is spectacular. Not only can I hear the waves crashing in the distance, the cicadas are exceptionally loud. I should sleep really well this evening. But first, I will read.

I can’t remember the last time I went to the beach on my birthday. Actually, this might be the first time. My birthday technically falls in the summer, but it doesn’t feel that way because school is always back in session. Often my birthday falls either the first week of school or the second. I always hated that. I hated going back to school and somehow that always zapped some of the pleasure out of my birthday.

This morning, I was up early enough for the sunrise. I got out of my tent, wandered down to the water, and took a sunrise walk along the ocean. The orange sky and sun were reflected off the water and wet sand as the waves crashed near the shore. It was gorgeous. I enjoyed watching the tiny plovers eat and run away from the waves on the shoreline.

I spent the entire day at the National Seashore. You definitely get a different experience in a park when you spend an entire day—including a night. After, my walk along the water, I had breakfast and then headed over to the marsh trail. It’s a short elevated boardwalk trail that takes you through the marsh so you can see the wildlife that lives there. I saw lots of birds: cormorants, snowy egrets, herons, and others I couldn’t identify. In the water were crabs and fish, turtles too but I didn’t see any.

After my own walk around the marsh, I joined a ranger tour. I was a bit disappointed in it. Usually, I learn cool and interesting things from the ranger, but not this time. I guess I’ve just spent too much time at the beach learning things.

This afternoon, I went swimming and when the wind picked up and I got chilly I read on the beach. I can always count on books for company. It was a quiet peaceful day with enough walking and exploring to keep me busy. The day was what I wanted. What I needed.

But I dread going back to New Jersey tomorrow where my life feels as if it is falling apart. The school year has started. I have no idea where I will find work. No one even wants me as a tutor. I would say the universe is speaking to me, telling me I need to do something drastically different, but doesn’t the universe realize I’m stuck in New Jersey.

This evening, I watched the sunset over the bay. It was pretty. Oranges and reds bouncing off the clouds. Another birthday over—at least no disappointments this year. No dealing with crap associated with every day life. Another year older, which just makes me feel OLD and useless.

I am now sitting on the beach. The wind is doing a fabulous job of keeping the bugs away. I can hear the waves crashing but it’s too dark to see them. For the moment, I am surrounded by a sense of peace.

Saturday morning I was up for the sunrise again and I took a long walk along the shore. The cloud coverage was thick, but the sun, blazing hot pink, poked through a crack, and some color—pinks and oranges—spread across the horizon. It was pretty. The water calming. I was happy and content as I walked, the waves roaring beside me.

When I got back to my campsite, I broke camp and made a cup of coffee. While I was drinking, horses, including a colt, wandered by, grazing. They kept me company while I finished my coffee. Before leaving the park I stopped at the marsh trail. There were no horses in the marsh, but a blue heron and a snowy egret came to say goodbye.

While I was alone at the park, walking, or swimming I gave a great deal of thought to what I wanted to do when I returned home. I’ve wanted to write children’s books for years. Before I considered writing memoir or novels, it was picture books I wanted to write. And I did write a few, years ago, back when G3 was a toddler. But no agent ever had any interest in them. Lately, after a conversation with my cousin’s husband, I’ve considered revisiting the idea of writing picture books and then self publishing them. I’ve heard Amazon makes the process cheap and easy. The problem, of course, is that I can’t draw. I have no artistic skills at all. So if I was going to do self publish, I’d need to find someone willing to draw and collaborate with me. That seems about as likely as finding an agent. Alternatively, I could use my own pictures and try to manipulate them to fit the text. It’s not ideal, but it’s an option.

While I was alone at Asseteague, ideas for three different books took root. I was excited about them and started to draft them in my head. But then I got on the road, and reality returned, slowly chipping away at any optimism and excitement I had. Even if I were to self publish books, what good is publishing them if no one buys them. Without a major publisher backing me, who would pay attention to anything I put on the market. Also, even if I could manipulate my pictures to match my text, my graphic design skills are poor. Any book I tried to create would look amateurish. As for the quality of the writing, perhaps it’s all just in my head that it would be half way decent. If what I wrote was good, surely, it would have sold by now, right? Needless to say, by the time my car crossed back in New Jersey, I’d practically given up the idea. It almost seems silly now.

I’m glad I went away. I’m glad, I went somewhere I like, somewhere I could experience some happiness and peace, because now that I’m home, and my job prospects feel non-existent, I’m once again feeling pulled under by a sense of hopelessness.