Katy Scott Allen

In my last post, I talked about my deep love for the Romance genre. When things have been dark, I have taken comfort in the soft, fluffy, squishy, and sometimes sultry stories with glorious happy ever afters. However, I am equally drawn to and inspired by darker stories of survivalism. It’s fantastic when they succeed and thrive and all that, but really, I’m here for the hardship. Bring on the suffering. Maybe my misery loves company. When I’m in physical pain, I love watching Naked and Afraid. No matter how much my husband reminds me how unrealistic it is, I enjoy watching hungry people shiver naked in the rain and fight the urge to give up.

It’s probably because, if I’m honest, I want to give up all the time. I’m currently safe and in therapy consistently, so you don’t need to worry. But maintaining my mental health takes just as much effort as maintaining my physical health, as if they can even really be separated. For me, the desire to give up isn’t usually as extreme as not wanting to live, although I would be lying if I said that wasn’t a component. Usually, it’s choosing not to fight with insurance to get a prescription that I really need. It’s eating one of the hundreds of foods to which I have an allergy or intolerance because I’m too tired to find a Katy-safe alternative. It’s throwing myself into tasks that are outside of my scope instead of asking for help. It’s choosing not to see a friend because I don’t have any good news to report. It’s allowing self-blame, shame, and despair to take up residence in my mind.

Ok, ok. Back to stories of resiliency. I can probably trace my interest in this kind of thing back to The Hatchet, Swiss Family Robinson, and The Boxcar Children. But more recently, I got pulled into the niche by watching the show Alone. That was my gateway drug. It led me to Life Below Zero and all its spinoffs. From there, it was a straight shot to the homesteading shows like Mountain Men and Homestead Rescue. I enjoy pulling my family into my obsession, too. On road trips, we love listening to audiobooks. Two of our favorites have been My Side of the Mountain and Coyote Sunshine.

It’s gotten truly ridiculous. Here I am, a woman who stays indoors constantly. I can’t maintain a garden anymore. I’ve slept in a tent outdoors one time in my entire life. I can’t stand long enough to prepare myself a meal, and yet I am constantly saying things like, “Black bears: those are good eating bears.” Despite the fact that I subsist on coffee, bananas, and peanut butter, I’ll remind my husband that dandelion roots are edible. You just roast them up. I have opinions about primitive fire-starting techniques, which I have absolutely no right to.

This contradiction doesn’t really matter, though, because the lessons I’ve learned from Alone (and all the rest of them) are still some of the most powerful of my life. I depend on them every day for my personal resiliency. One. The most prepared and highly trained survivalists are often brought to their knees by isolation. Human relationships drive and sustain us. Feeding those intimacies is just as life-saving as food, water, shelter, and fire. Two. When you are in a position of suffering, it’s important to stay busy. You can whittle chess pieces and make up songs accompanied by homemade instruments. You can weave a gill net or build a mansion out of moss. It really doesn’t matter what you choose. I don’t think it even matters if you choose something that you do well. But we all require purpose. Engagement. Mental stimulation. Creativity.

So now, having run out of other ways to be productive, I am enjoying writing. I don’t even give f*ck if anyone reads what I write. No, that’s not true; it’s a lie. I do care. But it’s not what is driving me. So if this doesn’t serve you, don’t feel like you need to read it. I just need an occupation. And if I can’t do this anymore, then I guess I’ll move on to something else. I’m open to suggestions. Because I’m not alone. I have people in this life that I love and who love me, and I’m not willing to give up.