When I met Cry Baby, she was unapologetically sure about her new nickname. On First Descents trips, everyone gets a nickname, but she owned it. Cry Baby cried out of sadness, cried in moments of joy, and cried when we could all feel this closeness and love within the group. She was so real about her emotions that it was contagious, and soon enough all of us were sharing in some tears.
Old me swallowed my tears, and avoided difficult or vulnerable conversations, but Cry Baby made me realize that some of my fondest memories are anchored in the conversations and experiences I wasn't able to avoid. There was an overwhelming amount of these conversations with this group, and that is in part what made our time together so memorable. Cry Baby thought us to let go of the tears, and welcome the difficult conversations and moments, because they are opportunities to connect to feel connected, heard, and truly alive.
On our way back to the airport, there was a conversation in the shuttle van about keeping conversations deep and real when we go back to real life after leaving the container we created on the trip. The container held space for a vast amount of vulnerability and heartfelt interactions, and we knew that the average conversation in the outside world can hold a lot of bitching, whining, and negativity. We talked about ways to steer away from these, and Midas suggested a great alternative conversation prompt: "on a scale of 1 to 10, how good is this guacamole?"
What I didn't know yet is how abundant such precious moments are and how close at reach they are. With this new awareness, I started noticing these gems here, there and everywhere. It was the smile I got from a kid boarding his first flight ever, or from the lady in line behind me who caught me dancing to Kait's playlist, or the conversations with old friends I was able to have before catching the last leg of my way home. I noticed my conversations and interactions being significantly more meaningful since. There are times when asking about the guacamole is moderately appropriate, but keeping this prompt in the back of my mind serves as a reminder to be present and genuine in the conversations I choose to have.
"Cry Baby made crying cool again," said Rutroh, and that really resonated with me. I want to welcome this Cry Baby lens, and set an intention to feel this kind of love in my life on a regular basis. Love is everywhere, and as Rutroh also said "love has to win, it just has to."
I participated in a week-long kayaking trip along the Wild and Scenic Rogue River in Oregon with First Descent's Caregiver group in August 2024. As a caregiver for a young adult with cancer, the river taught me lessons about fear, control, and surrender that have deeply meaningful. It also allowed me to foster connections with an incredible community of caregivers that continues to provide support for one another.
