Pinned, Flooded, and Finally Free: A Week in the Life of a Woman Who Just Needed to Let Go

Who knew these existed?????

Earlier this week, I found myself pinned on a rock in the middle of a rapid, clinging to the side of a raft while one of my fellow trainee screamed she didn’t want to die.

It was just the four of us—no instructor, just a Turkey boat (that’s rafting slang for a trainee crew flying solo) and a stretch of river that did not care how tired we were. Beth had gotten out to try to push us free and lost her footing, grabbing onto the chicken strap for dear life. I grabbed her. Craig grabbed me. The boat was taking on water like it had a death wish.

It was chaos. It was terrifying. It was kind of a metaphor.

Eventually, we humped the raft off the rock, beat to hell and soaked to the bone. The next day, the river flooded from days of heavy rain and washed out the interstate….Again. Everything around me felt unstable—roads, weather, my own nervous system.

Dennis had already left for Europe. I leave on the 27th to join him. I know I need the break. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already worrying about my animals at home. Hoping everyone stays healthy, fed, and in one piece until I’m back. That kind of worry doesn’t clock out when you go on vacation.

And on Friday, I closed another chapter: I said goodbye to the shelter for good.

After years of showing up for the animals, for the staff, for the broken system—I finally clocked out for the last time. You’d think I’d feel pure relief, but that’s not how endings work when you’ve given something this much of yourself.

Two people had just put in their notice. Two others had quit. The team left behind is stretched thin and still holding things together the best they can. And even in the middle of all that, they threw me a going-away party. I was gifted an astonishing assortment of pickle-flavored snacks—because apparently, that’s my legacy. (Not mad about it.)

I tried to stay lighthearted, but the tears were waiting. I held it together all day until I sat down to write a thank-you message to the staff who’d stayed through the worst of it. The ones who never gave up. That’s when I cracked.

The board president? She would’ve walked right past me without a word if I hadn’t stopped her to say goodbye. She acknowledged me only because I initiated it—and honestly, that says more than any farewell speech ever could.

It wasn’t the goodbye I hoped for. But it was the one I needed.

This week has been a whirlwind of rapids and reality checks, near-drownings and dry bags full of dill-flavored everything. It’s been about letting go of things that were never really holding me up in the first place.

And even though I’m sore, soggy, and more than a little emotionally frayed. I’m also free.

Next stop: Europe. I’ll be trading muddy rivers for cobblestone streets, and at least for a little while, my life may finally slow down enough to breathe it all in.