Wild

I was born in comfort and serenity of unfathomable love and in an anxiety-free post-war stretch that left behind a thousand years of conflict. In love and peace, I had spent my whole life, still agonizing over the idea that I was inexperienced, as my mom always said. To be a mature man should not go without being experienced; I was trying to wrap my head around this idea. I hate being called so. I wanted to be recognized as “experienced.”

Cheryl’s memoir is precisely what reminds me of my being, of my inexperienced-ness. Her book is the reason why I love hearing stories from people born without love, peace, or whatever I had. It must be madness to seek more turmoils in life that I sometimes just want to complain, but without those, I know that I would hardly see values in things I am surrounded with.

Planet Heroin, a place where there is no pain and essentially okay that her mother was dead, that her father was unknown and that she could not stay married with a man she loves, Cheryl admitted in the days she found locked in heaven of drugs. The darkest moment of her life was narrated in raw words that only experienced Cheryl could bring into her writing.

Either from getting swollen toes in the middle of nowhere or facing deadly bed-ridden pains, self-realization comes when we have suffered so much to realize how much meaning in being. Cheryl’s hiking journey is so motivational because she actively sought pains and suffers to find her way back to a normal life ultimately. Maybe we don’t have to wait till it turns late.

Cheryl’s trip on the Pacific Crest Trail is not surprising in an absolute sense, but at a personal level. Her story is of an impactful journey of finding hopes in the world of broken pieces.