In January of 2020, I took a class at the museum that focused on editing vs. censorship, it looked at it through the lens of reductionism poetry and it has stuck with me. The thought is that you take a piece of writing and heavily edit it to give it entirely new meaning. During COVID I would edit, mince, and reduce my words because something wasn’t worth it in terms of engaging. It was like having an editor that took my words and slowly over time changed them, contorted them, that by the end it wasn’t even worth speaking because it wasn’t my words.

My parents have often edited my papers but for the better, making sure that sentences were complete (remember those early days, mom?) and even now I’ll send sections of my blog to my mom to make sure it’s okay or the paper I sent to my dad recently that he said was hilarious and then sent back with 127 edits. But never existing in the form of reducing my voice or my meaning. I’ve noticed that while I had many stories during COVID, I didn’t have the language to tell them —but in getting that language back I’m more forthcoming with the stories.

Last week I did Arctic Entries, which is modeled after The Moth by This American Life, each storyteller has 7 minutes to tell a story with no notes on stage. Language is a powerful tool, and influences how humans behave, how I behave. I thought about this especially going into Arctic Entries, how to tell the story. I think about this with writing but with writing I have so many chances to revise, revisit, and rethink. With speaking it’s a one-and-done kind of show.

I had submitted a story back in September, debating between two stories, one about Alvin, and the other about Chris (#IYKYK). And settled on the one about Alvin, I wrote a brief synopsis: How I lost my dog and found a community. They were intrigued so I met with them in October to tell them the story in detail, and they loved it. The timing didn’t work out for the October or the January show which meant at least more time in theory to practice. I went through another round of practice in mid-February and then finally had the date locked in for the March show. After that I started tweaking the dialogue. How to fit everything I wanted to say in 7 minutes. I started editing, the small details I remembered but didn’t move the plot along.

I was picky in who I would share with in the early stages which only really meant sharing with Tom, who would get on a zoom with me most nights to work through it. I would tell the story, he would sit there showing no emotion, and then provide feedback. It was almost comical because he would say things like, “make sure you pause after you deliver that line, it’ll be killer and they will laugh” without him ever laughing. Based on his feedback I reworked a few key things. Thankfully, Tom’s job is focused on interpretation (for a National Park) so if anyone was going to help me it was him, plus it’s debatable which one of us knows Alvin better at this point and since it was about Alvin figured he’d want to make sure I did Alvin justice too.

I felt like I had finally perfected it but back to the editor in my mind, there was one or two lines that I was worried about, how would they be received, would I get pushback. I spent most of my therapy and private yoga instruction on how to navigate this, both of them telling me not to change my story, do not diminish my experience or what I want to say, just say it. But still in all my preparation for speaking in front of 1,000 people I was more anxious about getting a message or statement of criticism from an individual. Because this was the space I had been in for 2 years, worried about how my words might come out and be twisted. The misunderstandings, only hearing what was wanted to be heard. It’s a lot when your voice gets weaponized against you in learning how to reclaim it. But I feel like that’s what I’ve been doing all these months, figuring out how to reclaim my story and my narrative, in that validating my experiences.

As the show got closer, I told the tale to a few others, even incorporating the suggestion that Brianna said I should let people know I named Alvin that because I didn’t want to waste a good dog name since I was only going to be fostering him. The day before I had yoga where we talked through a few things and did a chakra visualization, at the end we sat there and felt where the energy went and what color was associated with it all. I saw a deep hue of blue, with the energy resting in my throat and the feeling of being choked catching me off guard. As I sat up and digested this with her I told her of how often over the past few years I felt like I was being suffocated, my narrative having gotten cut off. She thought Arctic Entries would be a great platform to share my story and experience. After that I went to Vailferee’s (my old babysitter) and practiced with her and caught up on life in general. As always, she proved to be like a big sister showing up with words that helped to express my experience. Then one of the better surprises happened when two college friends were in town visiting one’s sister and I was able to spend time at the brewery with them, the last time Cady was in Alaska was January 2020 so we joked about that and hopefully they move up to Alaska soon…

The day of the show was pretty low-key. Jane, as always sent me money to go get a manicure (it seems to alternate between book money and nail money) and I went for a run before practicing once more with Tom. He left me with the ever-inspiring words of “don’t mess up” and then the only laugh he’s given me during any rehearsals. I went to the show and talked with the other performers beforehand, we’ve all had a glimpse into each other’s lives with the rehearsals. I found out I’d be going third, which was enough time to hopefully not forget my story. I sat through the first two, a four-day blind date that ended up in a marriage, and an incredible story about aging out of the foster system. I saw Vailferee in the front row before the lights went down and stepped into the spotlight, only being able to hear the audience. I started, “I have a background in pandemic preparedness and response, so I was a little stressed in March 2020…” instead of writing the entire story out, I’m going to wait until the recording is available to post it because writing probably won’t do it justice.

I finished and had an outrageous amount of fun being up on the stage sharing my story. It’s only the second time since my brain injury that I’ve presented without notes. After my brain injury, I had my speech impacted which has made me a bit more self-conscious of how I talk—and while I often present without referring too much to my notes, they serve as a nice safety blanket.

They say there is power in sharing your story, it is healing in some form. But it was validating to not mince my words, to not feel muted, to have no criticism or judgment from the editor. I wrote this shortly after, “Can I breathe now, is this how it feels when the breath finally expands through your chest, casting the dust off the previously constricted places, you are free to move, the claws have finally come out, the hand is off your throat, the day has come where you can fly, fly back to yourself, back home.”

In telling my story I realized I can be as honest as possible to my experience but people will only see the truth if it’s close enough to their reality — so reminding myself that my lived experience is mine alone and my humor is not for everyone (among other things). My experience doesn’t invalidate others and theirs does not invalidate mine but holding space for complex narratives that weave into a tangled web.

There is the cliché where you don’t rescue your dog, they rescue you. I never really thought that until now. In the process of prepping for this in October, I looked at my writing from when I first got Alvin (mostly unpublished). Shortly before I had gotten Alvin I starting dating my ex. In that writing were the words that my ex would not have dated me if I had Alvin when I met him, oof. That was about three weeks into the relationship, so sometimes I thought things would be different if I hadn’t gotten Alvin but then I realized all the times that I had used reductionist language on myself, if I hadn’t taken that job, if I had been able to race bikes, if I wasn’t working on COVID, if I loved Alaska more, if I was faster, if I didn’t eat chips so late, if I never wanted to leave the state, if I didn’t have to travel, if I had healed faster, if I didn’t maintain certain friendships, if I was happier, if I didn’t say certain things, if I didn’t burn my eggs, if I hadn’t had the panic attack. And then it hit me, we would have worked out perfectly if I had reduced who I was. Again, language is a pretty powerful tool. By focusing on my narrative now, not having to edit or censor, I can show up more authentically for the relationships in my life (like all of them). This isn’t to put this on him, it’s me working to not dim my light, my therapist reminds me that I was willing to be molded and contorted, to be adaptable. It was certainly a lot easier to see all of it staring back in writing at me like that. I realize that relationships certainly come with their fair share of compromise but at the end of the day they should contribute to your flame, not diminish it. And as I’ve said before it was kind of the perfect storm with COVID and work and everything else that put my light out. But in telling my story with Alvin, I realize how much Alvin has saved me over the past few years and now has helped to give me my voice back.

Anyways, I finished my story by saying that “when the border opened up and I thought I would be moving to DC but I couldn’t do it, just like Alvin and I both being forest feral creatures it turns out that just like when Alvin got lost and this community showed up to help find him, when I got lost and lost my way and sense of self, this community showed up to help bring me back home.” In a way I feel like my Arctic Entries was a love letter to this community, to the friends who showed up when Alvin was gone and who have continued to show up when I was missing parts of myself.

After the show I quickly grabbed a drink with a few friends and then caught a red eye back to DC to teach once more and moderate an event. I’m back in Alaska already and the whirlwind world tour is done for a bit. I have a few big ski objectives that I’m hoping to get in this spring and headed to Fairbanks in 2 weeks for my first 100 mile fatbike race (was suppose to do it in 2020). Team Couch is set to do it but unlike Ana and Grande my form will be truly off the couch with this one.

In somewhat slightly related news, I just finished a book on cults and realized I would be a prime candidate to end up in one so take that as you will– don’t worry Jane, didn’t use your book money on that book. Grateful to the family and friends who remain vigilant around me and help me get by with little street smarts.