I’ve been thinking about identity lately. Having grown up with serious post traumatic stress and dissociated parts I had a hard time knowing who I was. I was teased a lot as a child, never feeling part of any group. I had no real friends and to protect my sanity, I learned to hide. I often felt I was a fraud. Sometimes I pretended to be strong and powerful. Other times I felt completely useless, broken and damaged.

Identity is a funny thing in long distance backpacking. Most thru hikers adopt a trail name that is bestowed upon them by other hikers. While hiking, they live life with a new trail identity. Sometimes hikers spend months eating and sleeping with people, becoming good friends but never knowing each other’s birth names.

I’m finding the concept of identity on the Florida trail to be even more interesting. It’s one of the few trails in this country that people do in the winter. As a result it seems to draw quite a few backpackers who have a lot of miles under their feet and are well known through their online content. Some of these people are quiet about it while others go to great lengths to advertise their online presence to fellow hikers.

I fall somewhere between these extremes. My online presence is minuscule through these blogs and on Instagram @theMaryBadass. Despite the fact that I’ve recently reached 20,000 miles of backpacking under my feet, I’m not well known. In an interview I took part in by the Trek for a Backpacker Radio podcast ( https://backpackerradio.libsyn.com/mary-badass-anderson-an-at-winter-sobo-in-the-80s-and-hiking-the-national-scenic-trails-as-an-older-solo-female) I was introduced as the most badass hiker you’ve probably never heard of. Yet I’m not completely unknown on the trails. It’s unusual for a woman my age to be hiking the way I am, and that has given me some notoriety. Certain stories I’ve shared with other hikers, such as killing and eating a rattlesnake on my Pacific Crest Trail thru hike in the 1980s, thru hiking the Appalachian Trail in a 1980s winter and hiking over 400 miles of the Fla Trail on crutches have increased my fame. As a result I do sometimes meet people who have heard of me.

I’ve been thinking about this since I’ve gotten more recognition on the Florida Trail because of hiking on crutches. As I try to wean off the crutches, I’m aware I go from being a hiker that gets recognized to just another person with a backpack. This has been interesting for me and caused me to recognize my hesitancy at letting go of the crutches.

To be fair my foot doesn’t feel quite ready to be walking without some help, but as my back or hip have started to bother me I’ve begun to hike the trail with just my hiking poles in my regular hiking boots. I was appalled when I found myself wanting to tell people I met on the trail that I have a broken foot and am just starting to hike without crutches. Even though when I first started hiking on crutches, my only reason for doing so was to be able to keep hiking, it was as if I now wanted the special recognition I got when hikers saw me on crutches.

As I’ve been contemplating this, and trying to shift the old pain I’ve carried about not being seen by those such as my mother or ex husband who were supposed to love me, I’ve been grateful to be surrounded by some beautiful prairies and forests to help me heal. Even though there were some long unpleasantly busy road walks and straight tedious walks along canals, there was a lot of beautiful forest and prairie in these more southern sections. In fact, I think some of the most beautiful forest I’ve seen yet on the Florida Trail has been between mile 150 to 250. As a bonus for me the trail has been dry enough this year that I haven’t had to get wet feet in a while.

Besides hooking back up with Steve Brindle in the lower section, I was helped out by Kate Adams, the Waterboy, and Anne Pick who drove over 2 1/2 hours to meet up with me, shuttle me and hike with me on the trail. I also spent a few days with Trail Angel Tammy Morton who helped me complete some of the more southern sections I needed to fill in.

Another part of my identity emerged at Tammy’s. She has a dress to wear to her son’s wedding in a few weeks. For a few months she has been desperately praying for someone to do some embroidery on the dress. When she heard I was a weaver, she asked if I would be able to embroider the dress. I gladly took on the job as a way to give back to this woman who had been so kind to me. I spent close to 12 hours the next day embroidering over 70 flowers onto her dress. It reminded me that I can identify with many different aspects of what I do such as hiking, weaving, skiing, writing, paddling, farming, and teaching, but in the end none of them are really who I am. I’ve tried to get away from having identity be connected to what I do and I no longer ask people I meet what they do for a living. Instead I try to discover something about them by asking what they enjoy doing in life.

I’m working hard not to have a big ego, thinking I’m special on the trail. Yet I also recognize the wounded parts of me who crave recognition as a way to feel valuable. I’m trying to find the balance between not needing other people’s recognition, with what I see as a human need for connection. I think recognition and feeling important is part of what helps me heal, as long as I don’t go overboard craving recognition. I do believe that acknowledging myself is what’s most important.

I’m still feel lost in life, with no sense of direction (until on a hiking trail when I know what direction to hike in 😀 ) but I no longer aspire to become well known in the world. I want to find a way to share my skills and knowledge with as many people as possible. But over these last few days as I’ve worked to wean myself off crutches, I reminded myself that being a celebrity is fleeting. The whole world can seem to love you and yet no one might be there when you really need them. This is helping me let go of my desire to have a bigger online presence and instead to seek quiet ways to share my knowledge and skills. I’m trying to leave behind the crutch of recognition and instead dig deeper inside myself to identify with the hidden child I was born to be.

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