Two hours in on a four-hour flight, and I’ve opened my laptop to write. The weeks have been fuller this year than I can remember. You all are probably getting tired of me using that term. But it’s true. I can’t think of a time in my life when I have had to prioritize more, reduce excess, and squeeze every ounce out of each day. It’s making me function at a higher level, but also asking for more grace and discernment from God. Sometimes I pause in my day when there’s more left to do than I can imagine and just ask, “Lord, what would you have me do?”

Before I started writing, I was scrolling through old photos in my phone, deleting and clearing memory. As I was scrolling, I was reminded of the years this mentality was my every moment and every day. It stemmed from a time I wasn’t really living authentic to who God needed me to be, and there was an obvious shift. 2017 was a pivotal moment in my life when authenticity challenged my ways of living.

I graduated college in 2015, starting my first job working for a large chemical company. I joke that God had a sense of humor when I interviewed. When asked where I wanted to live, I said “Don’t put me in New York or LA, but I want to experience agriculture outside of Nebraska.” I was offered a position in Dallas, TX, a city with more people than the state I grew up in. A few months later, a sales territory opened in the west, and I relocated to Colorado.

Habits followed me from college to my first job. I smoked cigarettes, and I never turned down the opportunity to drink a beer, or many of them. At the time, I didn’t think that much of it. It was just what I did and how I was social. I partied hard, but I worked hard, too. These habits didn’t get in the way of my work life, but I realized they were suffocating my authenticity and who I ultimately needed to be as a person.

There were times in 2017, that these layers started to peel away. And the first layer was a big peel. That summer was the first “real job summer,” as I was still a trainee the year before. The stress started to pile on. I wasn’t managing my finances well. I wasn’t really living my life well; merely checking the boxes. I remember everything coming to a screeching halt when I blacked out due to stress and was sent to the hospital. Even for days after, I was on the brink of panic attacks except when I was in church. Sometimes I would just sit and tear up in the pew, thankful for the peace I felt, but also heartbroken for where I was.

It was like my eyes were opened to how much in my life was being built around what I wanted others to think of me. I cared so much about appearance, striving to keep up this image that at the end of the day, I knew wasn’t authentic and it wasn’t who God wanted me to be. As I sat in my closet, tears streaming down my face, I called my mom. I told her, “I feel like I’ve built a house that I wanted other people to love, and now, the entire thing is demolished. I’m sitting in the basement on the foundation that God built, and I have no idea what this is supposed to look like.” I was lost.

I knew I needed to get back to counseling, as I was working through deep depression. Sue assured me, “I can help you, but I need to see you every week. If you don’t want any medication for chemical imbalances, I respect that, but you need to come see me every week.” There was history in my family of prescription pill addiction, and I didn’t want to go down that road. She told me about an all-natural supplement I could take, and I committed to sessions once a week.

The depression of knowing I needed to rebuild my life was daunting. How was I supposed to know what I wanted to do? I had spent so much time invested in what I thought other people wanted me to do, I didn’t know how to lead my life in the way God wanted to. Sue told me, “Every time you want to know, ask God. And every time you see him, thank God. If the stop light turns green, you thank Him. If you see a beautiful sunrise, thank Him. He is everywhere. You just need to see Him.”

As I scrolled through the pictures, I could visibly see the changes. I looked like a different person. I came to the pictures from a spray day in June of 2017, and I smiled recalling that day. The cool afternoon rain was coming in, and we had finished spraying for the day. I got in my truck and started to think to God, “I don’t want to stay in another hotel tonight.” I chuckle recalling the conversation. Asking God, “Lord what do I want to do?” As I sat in the front seat of my pickup, I knew I wasn’t going to a hotel. I was going to a campground. I stayed at a little KOA that night. I didn’t have any camping gear, yet, but I had enough to camp in my truck. I had started traveling with food, so I already had my cooler with me. I journaled and wrote as I laid across the front seat of my pickup truck. It was a really simple moment, but it was a sweet feeling of authenticity.

I had also started running, which was something I wasn’t historically very good at. But I could feel God when I ran, and I could hear him. I needed Him to keep me going physically, and it was a reminder when I wasn’t running that He was still with me. Always. Running in the rain was my favorite. I don’t know why, but the cool mountain showers made me feel his presence. I could feel Him. And I didn’t really care what I looked like; a feeling I had not remembered feeling since I was a little girl. And it felt authentic.

The end of 2017, my roommate wanted to move to the city, and I knew I needed to get out into wide open spaces. Wyoming was in my territory, and I remember knowing this was where I needed to go. And I wanted to go there. A friend helped me find an apartment in Buffalo, Wyoming, and my sister Grace flew in to help me move and keep me company on the drive. I had never driven a U-Haul trailer before, and it showed. All Grace could say directing me was, “Quit jackknifing it.” As I was failing miserably at backing into the driveway, all of a sudden, an older man appeared. I rolled down the window and he sweetly and confidently said, “Ma’am, my wife and I managed a campground for 32 years. You’re going to drive and I would love to help direct you.” An obvious “Thank you God” moment that Grace will never let me forget. The wilderness years of 2018 were about to begin.

Some opportunities I looked for, but others found me. Like in January when my boss told me he was going to take me elk hunting and I needed to get a bow. I took hunter’s safety with a bunch of kids, and learned I was left eye dominant. Or after a meeting in Salt Lake City, when one of my customers told me I should go get ski lessons on my way out of town, which led to becoming a black diamond skier. I cut off all of my hair, ran my 18 mile trail run that year, and many times, was unrecognizable to my hometown. I had quit smoking in 2017, just because I didn’t want to be a smoker anymore. I bought a backpacking tent and some camping supplies, going by myself into Yellowstone and Island Park. I started writing poetry again after my first hunting trip in Montana, which connected me to where I would move years later, and find team roping, my horse, and the inspiration for the blog I’m writing today. Little moments that gave me freedom to go and become who God wanted me to be.

I share all of this because I truly believe God needed to break off everything I wasn’t in order for me to find who I really was. The wilderness years weren’t lonely, though I spent a lot of time alone. I needed the time alone to sort through what was authentic and what wasn’t. I had this beautiful vision of my life as a shattered vase, and each day I was picking up pieces, discerning what was part of me, and what wasn’t. At the time, it felt fragile, but in looking back through the photos, it feels brave.

The wilderness years were built on the foundation of that basement I sat in, wondering what on earth God was trying to build. And before He could build, He needed my authenticity. The house I had built couldn’t stand, and I’m glad it didn’t. Authenticity doesn’t have to be a radical uprooting, like it was for me, but it does require honesty and humility. Sometimes it is a simple as asking, “God, who do you need me to be today?” Wherever you are on your walk, I pray you seek authenticity. It will come at a cost, but I can tell you the reward is far greater. With each day, we have choices to pick up authenticity, or sit on the fence, waiting for others to move around us. Dive in, the water is refreshing. And you, my friend, will have the journey of a lifetime once you plunge further into your authenticity.