Never Enough
/By Paul Barach, produced by Out There Podcast
Released on April 28, 2022
Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
WILLOW BELDEN: So, to start things off today, I want to share a recording that my colleague Jessica made while she was on a road trip in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
To set the scene — she made this recording from her travel trailer, and she was looking out at the highest peak east of the Mississippi, Mount Mitchell.
JESSICA TAYLOR: I wanted to make this recording actually on the day I hiked Mt. Mitchell. But it was 18 degrees — and mind you, this is the end of April — it was 18 degrees, and the wind was so terrible, there was no way I was going to be able to get a good recording. But I wanted to share with you, as I’m on this trip, I’ve really been loving using the app PeakVisor, which allows me to pull up my phone, use AR (augmented reality) to be able to see what the title is of all the peaks, what their height is. There’s a free option, you can use one location a day, and it will show you things about mountains in the area you’re in that you never knew.
WILLOW: PeakVisor is one of our sponsors. Their app is like your own personal mountain guide.
If you’re a map lover like Jessica and I are, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There theme music begins)
Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
I have some wonderful news! Out There received three awards from the Rocky Mountain chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists.
We took first place for best podcast in our division. We got first place for mental health reporting, for an episode called “Outskating Your Demons,” which was about this woman who goes on a long-distance skateboard trip. And our episode about exclusion in sports took second place for social justice reporting. That episode was called “In the Name of Fairness.”
In case you missed any of these award-winning episodes, I have links to them in the show notes at outtherepodcast.com.
(theme music ends)
It’s hard to believe, but the current season of Out There is almost over. So I want to give you a sneak peak at our plans for the future.
After this season wraps up in May, we’re going to take a little break for a few weeks (because everyone needs a break — even podcasters). And THEN we’re going to give you a special summer treat.
I know a lot of you are relatively new to Out There. And I want to do something nice to welcome you. So I thought I’d share some of our favorite stories from the early days of Out There.
We have a whole bunch of episodes that have won awards, or that resonated especially strongly with listeners. But many of those episodes are too old to show up in your podcast feed anymore.
So, I’m going to remedy that problem.
Starting on June 16, we’re launching a “season of favorites,” where we share Out There oldies that you otherwise probably wouldn’t get to hear.
If you’re new to the show, it’ll be a great introduction to Out There. If you’ve been listening for a long time, it’ll be a wonderful trip down memory lane.
Even better — I’d like to invite you to weigh in on which stories we include in the season!
I put together a quick poll, where you can vote on what you’d like to hear. And you can join in the fun regardless of whether you’re a longtime fan, or a brand new listener.
To vote, just click the link in the episode description. The poll is super short, so it’ll be really quick. In fact, why don’t you pause the episode and vote right now?
Or, if you’re driving or something, and you can’t take the poll right now, just make sure to vote before May 15.
Thank you so much! I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.
(calm music begins)
This season, we’re exploring the theme “Things I Thought I Knew.” Each episode we’re sharing a story about an outdoor experience that changed someone’s understanding.
Today’s story is about love, and loss.
When we lose someone we love, a lot of us have this instinct to escape to nature. We seek out healing from the outdoors — whether it’s a mountaintop vista, a desert sunset, or a quiet seashore.
But what happens when nature doesn’t cooperate — when the weather is bad and your happy place is miserable? What can we learn about grief and acceptance, when nature is at its ugliest?
Paul Barach has the story.
And just to let you know: this story gets into some really heavy topics. We’re going to talk about depression, suicide, and substance use. So, be a little gentle with yourself.
(music fades out)
PAUL BARACH: I’ll never forget Meredith’s face the first time that I saw her on stage.
(whimsical music begins)
It was beaming, full of that excitement that drew people like us into amateur stand-up comedy. She had this strawberry blond hair and this voice like a cartoon mouse, and this inability to not say everything she was thinking.
It wasn’t love at first sight. There weren’t butterflies or stars exploding. I didn’t even realize what was happening, which was gravity doing what gravity does best: pulling two bodies together.
By the time I finally got up the courage to ask her out, she said no, because she was dating someone else. When she asked if we could still be friends, I said no, because that never works.
Within a week, we were texting every day. And within a month, she was one of my best friends.
She just had that way with people. You couldn’t not love her, despite all her contradictions.
(music fades out)
Meredith was incredibly self-centered, but she was also one of the most supportive friends you could ever want. She had this joyous belly laugh, punctuated by these bear-like snorts that would spread grins across a room. But she also quietly dealt with a lot of painful health issues that she couldn’t afford to get diagnosed, let alone treated.
Onstage, her jokes were mostly upbeat. She saved her dark, blunt sense of humor for her closest friends.
At every moment, Meredith was uncontrollably herself. I loved that most about her. Because it meant I could stop pretending to be normal too.
(relaxed music begins)
We finally started dating, and for a year Meredith was the one. We spent our days texting jokes back and forth, trying to out-do each other, and nights performing at the same open mics. We produced storytelling shows together featuring our friends from the stand-up scene. She was ambitious and capable. The sex was fun and adventurous. She was everything I wanted.
(music ends)
Then I hit this wall that I always hit after a year in a relationship. I started asking myself: ‘Is this enough? Could there be someone better?’
I always needed something bright and shiny to look forward to, and with Meredith things were becoming repetitive. I didn’t know how to talk about it, let alone fix it.
So we broke up, but neither of us could break that gravity between us. So we spent the next two years in orbit: texting every day, failing to date other people, falling into bed whenever we could, and pushing each other away again. Until finally, after a long phone call, we both agreed to stop fighting gravity. Who else beside our best friend did we want to end up with?
(light, airy music begins)
I grinned for days after that conversation.
There was still a lot that we had to work on, and a lot of growing up to do. I wasn’t sure if it would be enough in the end, but after all that time we’d wasted, we had our whole future together to try and get it right.Eleven days later…
(music ends abruptly)
…Meredith killed herself.
(somber music begins)
For a week, the sun didn’t shine in Seattle.
I spent that gray, rainy week laughing at my friends’ dark jokes, sobbing at everything else, and trying my best to cause an alcohol shortage in Seattle. The world didn’t seem real anymore. Everything around me looked like stage props, and food tasted like dead wood.
When I was alone, I’d think about those three years, and everything that should have gone differently between us.
(music fades out)
The only thing that got me through that week was Shi Shi beach.
I’d been planning to take Meredith there once the weather cleared up, because it was the most beautiful beach in Washington state.
And I knew that, because I’d Googled “most beautiful beach in Washington state” and then read nothing about it.
But the photos I’d seen looked incredible: there were these ocean-carved towers of basalt called sea stacks that rose above a pristine shore and a glassy ocean. Massive, free-standing ramparts and shipwrecks of stone bathed in warm skies and gemstone sunsets.
(melancholic music begins)
Those bright skies and majestic sea stacks I’d seen online were my refuge, and I held on to them tightly at Meredith’s viewing.
I’ll never forget her face. It had always been so animated, sharing everything that was going on beneath. Now it was just a mask.
They’d covered up her neck with a scarf, but they couldn’t do anything about her lips. The belt had turned them purple.
(music fades out)
She’d left a note. She’d had blinding migraines the past couple days, her joints were swelling, her stomach had twisted up, her back had gone out, and she couldn’t see a life where she wasn’t always hurting. But it was depression too.
I knew she wasn’t thinking clearly, because in shaky handwriting the note ended with the truly insane idea that one day, the people who loved her the most would “get over it.”
(subdued music begins)
Her family asked me why, just like our friends had all week. They wanted to know if it’d been about money, or some recent disappointment, or a terminal diagnosis. They just wanted to know what they’d missed.
Suicide is an American epidemic. And most people don’t understand it, because we don’t talk about it enough. I didn’t know how to tell them at the time what I knew, having lived with a lifetime of depression.
(music ends)
When someone commits suicide, you want to believe it was an accident, as if they’d gotten too close to an open window without realizing and carelessly stumbled backwards. You want to believe that if you’d just seen them struggling and reached out in time, you could have pulled them to safety.
But sometimes, they’re not reaching out to you at all.
Meredith walked away quietly from a party full of supportive, loving friends to hang herself alone in her apartment.
(somber music begins)
Each suicide is as individual and complex as the person you’ve lost.
The way I saw it, Meredith didn’t choose to die. Her brain killed her, the same as if it was a stroke.
Or at least that’s what I told myself then, and now. And I still wonder if there was something I could have said, some magic combination of words that when put together the right way at the right time, could have kept her in this world.
My only hope, then and now, is that she didn’t regret it in the end.
I hope that just before it went dark, there was a moment without pain. And I hope she lived in that moment forever.
(music fades out)
But I couldn’t say any of that at Meredith’s viewing. I could barely get the words out to tell Meredith how much I’d miss her.
That’s the worst part about saying goodbye. Feeling that sudden weight in your chest of all the words that you wish you were saying instead of goodbye.
(soft music begins)
Friends had invited me into their homes that weekend, but I couldn’t just sit in this dark world without Meredith. I needed more if I was going to get through this. I needed to know that there was still sunshine and beauty somewhere. I needed to get to Shi Shi beach.
(music ends)
WILLOW: Hey, it’s Willow. We’ll hear the rest of the story in a moment. But first, I want to tell you about another podcast series you might like.
It’s called [Un] Natural Selection, and it’s about the benefits and pitfalls of humans tinkering with the environment.
The show looks at Indigenous practices of burning the landscape, how human emotions affect wolf management, and the possible link between conservation and genetically engineered animals.
MORGAN SPRINGER: It’s definitely motivating.
WILLOW: That’s Morgan Springer, the show’s co-host.
MORGAN: When I listen to these stories, I aspire to do better.
WILLOW: [Un] Natural Selection is one of our sponsors. It’s a special season of the podcast Points North from Interlochen Public Radio.
Listen wherever you get your podcasts or visit pointsnorthradio.org.
And now, back to the story.
PAUL: That night, I was at my friend Tyler’s apartment telling him about my plans, and unexpectedly he said, “Sounds dope man! I’ll come with you.”
(more upbeat music begins)
What Tyler secretly meant was, ‘I don’t like nature, but all of us are worried about you.’
And I said, “Sure, let’s invite Xung too.” Because what I secretly meant was, ‘I need a buffer, because you are loud and blunt.’
Both Tyler and Xung liked my plan: camp in the Hoh rainforest, then drive north to spend the day at Shi Shi beach. It was going to be an easy road trip to a gorgeous, sunny spot. Just what we all needed.
(music fades out and sound of steady rain begins)
The night after Meredith’s wake, rain was hammering down as we pulled into the Hoh rainforest parking lot.
(sound of car keys jangling and engine shutting off)
We waited it out for a half hour with some vodka and grapefruit juice until the car got claustrophobic.
(sound of car door opening, and rummaging around with gear)
Xung grabbed the sleeping bags, Tyler got the tents, and I led them down the slatted boardwalk with my iPhone lighting the way.
(music begins)
Halfway to the campsite, on the edge of that white halo of rain, I saw the emerald eyes of a cougar staring back at me. Which, if you've never had the pleasure, is like staring down the barrel of a gun covered in fur.
It slid behind a bushy tree, and I turned back and said, “Bad news, guys. There’s a cougar.”
And they did not believe me, because literally a moment before I’d said, with great confidence, “Don’t worry, guys. I’ve never seen a cougar out here!”
But they did believe me when the whole cougar emerged on the other side, circled between us and our campsite, then hunched down behind an embankment.
The worst thing you can do is run, so I turned and said, “Don’t run.” Which Tyler didn’t hear, because he’d already sprinted back to the car, where Xung and I quickly joined him.
(music fades and sound of rain begins again)
And in the rain, we smoked and cracked jokes, and soon we all broke down. Tyler pulled us together under his umbrella and we mourned for Meredith and all the other people in our lives that we’d lost to suicide, and cancer, and every other horrible thing the world will do to those that you love the most.
And at every snap of branches we’d whip around in a panic, and shine our phones at the surrounding woods for that cougar that was still out there somewhere.
(rain ends)
By the time we pulled into the Shi Shi Beach parking lot the next afternoon, both Tyler and Xung had had enough of the trip. I’d gotten us lost all morning, and we were tired, hungover, and cramped from sleeping in the car.
Tyler shut off the ignition and said, “So, the beach is just behind this stand of trees, right?”
And I replied, “Yes.” Because I had read nothing about it.
Then I walked up to the trail sign which read, “SHI SHI BEACH - 2 MILES.” Then I walked back and said, “Bad news, guys. We’re hiking.”
And neither of them were dressed for that, since I had also said yesterday, with great confidence, that we would not be hiking.
(mercurial music begins)
It was drizzling, so I asked a retired couple coming out of the woods how the trail looked. Mostly for Tyler’s sake, since he was wearing his favorite pair of fire-engine red Chuck Taylors. They said, “It’s fine, just a little muddy.”
But it was not “a little muddy.” It was a two-mile swamp.
And I was now dragging my friends through that swamp. Mud poured into our shoes and we were all shivering in the haze. I could hear my friends complaining and slipping into the muck. Tyler’s umbrella was tearing on the low branches, and soaking his leather jacket.
Everything seemed terrible, but I knew that Shi Shi Beach was going to make up for all of it.
(music ends)
Suddenly, the path dead ended, right at the edge of a 150-foot bluff. And there was no real “trail” down to the bottom.
Instead, there was this nylon rope that was looped back and forth around some trees that clearly no engineer had ever signed off on. The only footholds were the rocks and roots sticking out from the soil. So you kind of had to hold onto this rope, work your way down backwards, and hope that your shoes had good traction. Unlike, say, a pair of Chuck Taylors.
(music begins)
So I turned down trail to say, “Guys, bad news…”
But they were already looking down the bluff, and shaking their heads to say, “Paul…there is no way.”
And I agreed, then grabbed the rope, and started down. I was getting to Shi Shi Beach, whether I rappelled or fell down there. And my friends followed, choosing me over personal safety, because it was the theme of the weekend.
The descent was somehow even sketchier than it looked, but the closer I got to the bottom, the faster my heart pounded, until my feet touched flat ground. I’d made it.
(music ends)
There was nothing left between me and this refuge I’d been waiting to reach all week. With tears flowing in anticipation, I finally stepped out onto the sands of Shi Shi Beach.
And it was the ugliest beach that I have ever seen.
(sound of waves crashing on sand)
Both the sky and the ocean were gray as wet concrete. And the shore was covered with these quivering, yellow mounds of phlegmy seafoam, like the ocean had the flu.
And the sea stacks that I’d seen in all the photos were dim shadows, miles away beneath the high tide that trapped us where we stood.
I wandered down to a driftwood log, where the rolling waves coughed up more of this ocean mucus speckled with shards of plastic. My shoulders shook. I didn’t know what to do.
Tyler joined me on the log, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Paul, this beach is disgusting.”
And I said nothing, because he was right. But then Xung sat on my other side, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Nah, man. I’m glad we came here. I think it’s pretty nice.”
And moments after saying that, this rogue wave crashed against the log, slapping a huge load of sea phlegm right across Xung’s face, as Tyler and I sprinted away just in time.
Further up the beach, Tyler lit up a joint, and started scraping the mud out of his socks. Xung passed me a cigarette out of a soggy pack, saying much less than usual.
We’d have to head back soon. Sundown was coming and we had a whole swamp to return through. I looked down the beach at the distant sea stacks we’d never get to. After all the driving, the cougar, the cramped night, the swamp, all we’d done is find another dark part of this world without Meredith.
(quiet music begins)
I glanced over to where the tideline met the bluff. A shaft of sunlight cut through the clouds, lighting up a wet patch of sand. It was the only sun that any of us had seen in this cold, dark week.
I said, “Guys, there’s sunlight. Do you want to come with me?”
And they said “No,” because they were not following me another step at that point.
Which was fine. They weren’t supposed to be here. Meredith was, when the tide was low, and the sky was blue, and we finally had more time.
More time to make each other laugh. More time to say we loved each other. More time to say we were sorry. More time with our best friend, to try to get it right, because we weren’t ready to let go yet.
But at the end of the worst week of my life, and the worst camping trip of my friends’ lives, that is what I had instead:
(music fades out)
Three years where Meredith and I loved each other the best that we could, and a warm little sunbreak on the ugliest stretch of beach in Washington State.
And in that moment, I understood that it all had to be enough. Even if it never would be.
(waves fade out and soft guitar music begins)
And as we walked back through the swamp, to return to that dimmer world, I understood something else. If I was ever lucky enough to feel a love like that again, if that gravity ever pulled me as close to another person as I’d been to Meredith, I’d make certain that it was enough.
(music continues on its own a few moments)
WILLOW: That was Paul Barach. He’s a writer living in Washington State. And he wanted me to let you know that he has found another love as deep as his love for Meredith. Or, maybe even deeper. And he has made sure that that love is enough. He’s now happily married.
(music fades out)
Also, Paul has been on Out There twice before. He did a story about returning back to the real world after doing a thru-hike, and he did another piece about what happens when the adventure of a lifetime turns out to be pretty miserable. I have links to those episodes in the show notes at outtherepodcast.com.
(Out There Favorites music begins)
It’s time now for Out There Favorites. This is the part of the show where we share some of our favorite resources. Favorite apps, favorite books, favorite podcasts, gear…
These are not ads — we’re not getting any money from the things we recommend. It’s just a chance for us to spread the love.
STACIA BENNETT: Hello! My name is Stacia Bennett, and I’m on the Out There Podcast ambassador team. I’m so excited to be sharing with you three of my top favorite resources today.
To start with I’m going to share with you one of my current favorite podcasts, The Hiker Podcast, featuring host Andy Neal. Where he interviews a variety of people that are involved in the hiking community, whether that’s day-hiking or thru-hiking. I’m personally not usually a fan of interview-style podcasts, but Andy’s enthusiasm — as well as the interesting stories of the people that he interviews — really make this one a pleasure to listen to.
The second resource that I’d like to mention with you is one that I use, and open on my phone, almost every single day, and that is the Gaia GPS app. While not as immediately user-friendly as some other apps on the market, I find this to be an invaluable tool whenever I’m trying to plan a trip, map out routes, compare distances and elevation profiles, as well as navigating in the backcountry. Most especially whenever I’m hiking off-trail, or on trails that are poorly marked.
The final resource that I wanted to mention to you today is a really cool company that you may have not have heard of before, and that is LightHeart Gear. It’s a women-owned company based out of Asheville, North Carolina. The company makes a lot of different types of gear, everything from tents to rain gear to clothing. And a couple of pieces that I find myself wearing and using on almost evehike that I go on, are my women’s backpacking dress, which has an incredible fit, awesome fabric, quick-drying, extremely comfortable, and can be purchased both with and without pockets. And then their micro grid fleece hoodie, which is super soft, and is just one of most versatile layering pieces that I personally have in my repertoire.
So those are my top three resources that I wanted to mention to you on today’s episode. Thanks!
WILLOW: Again, that was Stacia Bennett. She’s one of Out There’s ambassadors.
(music ends)
I have links to all the things she recommended in the show notes at outtherepodcast.com. And you can follow Stacia on Instagram @adventurelikeagirl.
(laid back music begins)
Coming up next time on Out There, what if something happened that made you rethink who you are?
BO JENSEN: I was surprised at my own reaction. I mean, in my mind, oceans were for luxury cruises and island vacations, bikini babes and long-haired surfers. How was a mountain person like me so drawn to the sea? More than drawn — I felt a connection to it, somehow felt at home there.
WILLOW: Tune in on May 12 for our final episode of the season. It’s a story that takes us from the Gulf of Mexico to the Camino de Santiago, and explores why it can be good to stop defining yourself too rigidly.
(music fades out)
Before you go, don’t forget to take the poll about our upcoming season. We make Out There for you, and because of you, and we want the episodes to REALLY resonate. So, take a minute and vote for the stories you most want to hear. Just click the link in the episode description to take the poll.
(sound of cars passing in the background)
JESSICA: Hi, I’m Jessica Taylor, and I’m the advertising manager at Out There Podcast. I am a total map geek, so I love being able to identify and look at what’s around me.
WILLOW: Jessica made this recording when she was in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
If you’re a map geek like she is, you probably like to know what mountains you’re looking at when you’re out on a hike or some other adventure.
That’s where an app called PeakVisor comes in handy. Peak Visor is one of our sponsors. Their app is like your own personal mountain guide.
They have intricate 3D maps to help you plan out your adventures. And when you’re out on those adventures, it helps you figure out what you’re looking at.
Check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
(Out There theme music begins)
You can support Out There by leaving us a review on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you’re listening right now. Heart-felt reviews from listeners like you will help other people discover this podcast. And the more people who listen, the better we can grow and thrive.
You can also help us out financially by becoming a patron. Patrons are listeners who make monthly contributions to Out There through a crowd-funding platform called Patreon. Go to patreon.com/outtherepodcast, or just click the link in the episode description, to become a patron today.
This episode was written by Paul Barach. Story editing by Forrest Wood and me, Willow Belden. Out There’s advertising manager is Jessica Taylor. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Cara Schaefer is our print content coordinator. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
(theme music ends)
Have a beautiful day, and we’ll see you in two weeks.
