I'm Only Happy When I'm Miserable
I’m only happy when I’m miserable. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but let me explain. A while back, after returning from a few crazy photography expeditions, I couldn’t help but smile. The glow lasted for weeks afterwards. Each time I’d think about the cold drizzly rain in Eastern NC as I photographed bears; or the nearly frozen Western NC rivers inducing a hypothermic state while I was filming hellbender salamanders; or my dying flashlight sweeping across the snake infested everglades, my heart would leap for joy. I couldn’t help but realize that I’m only truly happy when the scenario is often adverse. I’m never this happy when sitting safely in a temperature-controlled cubicle collecting a steady paycheck. Where’s the adventure in that? The purpose? I am coming to believe that happiness is a trap. I don’t want happiness; I want the joy that comes from exploration and adversity.
This past week I decided to take a chance and drive through a monsoon rain storm to a spot I had heard had a species of snake I needed a photograph of. As I drove, I would hit walls of rain and then at times it seemed I was outpacing the storm. I have to admit this was kind of exciting. I love storms. I love their unpredictability, the stray from the norm just does something for me. I pulled into a little boat launch. I felt that tingle of excitement as I threw my truck into park. The storm I’d been racing had yet to hit this particular spot along the Uwharrie River. The river was around sixty miles southeast of where I set off from, so the storm was on its way but not quite here yet. It was coming though. As I hopped out of my truck, a light rain began falling. The river hadn’t swollen yet, and my heart was racing with excitement.
I threw on my old Army poncho and grabbed a snake hook and a net. I have been photographing the reptiles and amphibians of the North Carolina on white backgrounds for a poster project for some local parks and I was in desperate need of a queen snake photo. This was the spot people suggested, and the people were correct. Queen snakes aren’t uncommon here, but most people don’t know they exist. They’re a midsized aquatic snake that primarily exists by eating freshly molted crayfish. They’re typically found in the piedmont and areas west, preferring rocky mountain creeks and the surrounding shrubs.
As if by providence a queen snake dove into the water in the first five minutes I was out of my truck. Now my blood was really pumping. Game on. Seeing the first snake dive into the river and disappear didn’t deter me. I knew that if there was one, this was good habitat and likely there would be more. I dropped down into the river and thankfully it was only around 8-10 inches deep in most spots, due to some rocky sandbars I could easily hop to. I searched the shrub line skirting the bank where I saw the first queen snake dive in from. Nothing.
I saw an island in the middle of the river and it was as if it was calling to me. I leap frogged across the sandbars and as soon as I got to the shrubby island, I saw her. Sitting coiled in a textbook pose on top of a shrub was a gorgeous queen snake. I didn’t hesitate. I put my net underneath where she was coiled and coaxed her into my net with the snake hook. I practically ran back to my truck. I was elated. This was the fastest I’d ever been able to acquire a target species, and after striking out for weeks I was glad to finally have the snake in hand to photograph. The conditions outside were horrible but that’s what makes it memorable. Adventures worth remembering seldom happen on easy days.
The mundane boredom of my daily security seems to only elicit restlessness and wanderlust, and on my worst days, severe depression. I’m only happy when I’m miserable. Chances are you’re probably in the same boat. The things we recount from our escapades rarely hinge on what went well, and all too often the most remarkable parts of our stories are the things that went wrong. The blown engine, the run in with the cops, the missed photos because your lens was foggy, the bickering and arguments that ensued when you were tired and hungry. Conflict and adversity seem to provide the best backdrops for memorable stories, and yet we spend the majority of our lives trying to reduce those moments in an effort to control our outcome. We chase safety and often the only thing we end up catching is the mundane. I’m tired of playing it safe, it’s time to live adventurously again.
An old Army saying I remember all too well from my service is “embrace the suck.” Instead of worrying about how deep the swamp is, dive in and uppercut an alligator, figuratively. It’s time I take my own advice and stop planning for the perfect moments that never come. The examples I wrote above were all real adventures I have been on. The sad part is that many of them were a couple years ago, with the queen snake being a recent event that helped me snap out of my funk. I’m not embracing the suck, I’m creating it. This sucks! It’s so easy to get stuck in routine and for days to turn to weeks, months, and then years all while we are waiting on the “right” time to leap.
The best time to start an adventure is now. Are the conditions perfect? Probably not. Go anyway. Are you out of shape? Cool! Tell your body who’s the boss and get after it. One step at a time. What are you waiting for? I, for one, am tired of making excuses and I want you to hold me accountable. It’s time to hit the woods and start taking risks again, all in the pursuit of new stories. We’ve got to take more opportunities to get out and get dirty, expect things to fail and be content that the story is simply gaining a flavor of its own as things go wrong. Embrace the suck. Let things get spicy. It’s time to get miserable. It’s time to live.
Phenomenal piece Stan! Real satisfaction comes from doing things that suck.
Love your passion, your call to nature and your amazing communication skills!! I felt the adrenalin that "called" you to the island!