© April Meads, 2020
It was a Sunday.
May 31st, 2015: a day I could never forget.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember everything. I remember sliding down the cliff, clawing at the dirt trying to save myself. I remember the look on Stacy’s face as I slid down and she watched from above, getting further and further away. I remember stopping briefly and looking around for a way to climb back up, only for the cliff side to crumble beneath me, allowing me to continue sliding… and sliding…
Most of you are probably reading this because you know the exact day I’m talking about, however if you’re new to this chapter of my life, I suggest catching up by clicking on the links provided throughout the story. So, if you’re new or just need a refresher, start here to read the first published story from May 31st, 2015. Then maybe go here to read about my experience when I returned to that same spot where I fell in August 2015.
Five years. FIVE YEARS. How is it that it feels like this just happened yesterday but at the same time feels like an eternity ago? The last five years have been far from easy. I would be lying if I said I don’t think about what happened at Horsetail Falls on May 31st, 2015 everyday, because I do. It’s always there, lingering in the back of my mind. It might sound like I’m being dramatic, but seriously, five years later and it still crosses my mind several times a day.
When Stacy and I arrived home on May 31st, 2015, we had to sit our parents down and tell them that I nearly died. The rest of the day I felt like I was on autopilot; like I was gliding rather than walking. I never thought I’d remember a shower so vividly, but I do. I couldn’t lift my arms to wash my hair. I sat on the floor of the bathtub and cried. I didn’t want to get out. The next day, I couldn’t get out of bed. I’m not exaggerating, I actually couldn’t get up, it was almost comical. It didn’t feel real. Despite feeling like I had been run over by a bus, it felt surreal.
Now, I’ll preface by saying that I’m glad my story got the attention it did because I hoped that it would bring awareness to other hikers out there. But if I’m being real, it was not easy seeing myself and my story literally everywhere for months. It felt like my story followed me everywhere I went and there was no escaping. Here are some examples:
The time I wrote a narrative for OregonLive:
https://www.oregonlive.com/pacific-northwest-news/2015/06/hurry_im_starting_to_slip_linf.html
The time I made it on almost every news station in the Portland-metro area:
https://komonews.com/news/local/oregon-hiker-clings-to-tree-root-after-falling-off-trail-edge
The time I was interviewed for a hiking magazine called Backpacker:
https://www.backpacker.com/survival/out-alive
The time a crew from CBS flew all the way from New York to interview me for their story: (fast forward to 23:00 to see me).
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/trail-of-tears-investigating-the-death-of-rhonda-casto/
Honestly, you can Google search my name and my story is everywhere. It was weird, to say the least, that for a couple of months I was known as the girl who fell off a cliff. I was waiting in line at a restaurant when a teenage boy leaned to his mom and said “Hey, that’s the girl from the news!”
I didn’t like it. This terrible experience was starting to define who I was in all aspects of my life. I had returned to campus at Linfield College for the fall 2015 term, and was greeted and hugged by people I had never spoken to before. “Thank God you’re alive,” “It’s so good to see you here,” “Wow you are a badass.” Sure, it was heartwarming to get so many well wishes from all these people, but it started consuming me. That’s when I started going to therapy.
I didn’t like that either. I’m supposed to sit down with a stranger and talk about my story and how it’s affecting me? My coping mechanism with my friends and family was to joke about it, so it was difficult to actually be real about what happened. I had pretty bad PTSD, depression and anxiety following my incident.
I had the same nightmare every night and woke up in a cold sweat. I spent my therapy sessions either telling my story with every detail over and over, or just crying. I gained weight because it was easier to use food as a coping mechanism. I developed insomnia and didn’t sleep for days or I slept for 15 hours at a time. I took antidepressants that made me lose my hair, but I continued to take them because those pills made me feel somewhat normal. I dropped out of college three months before graduation because mentally I just couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped going for hikes because the thought of confronting my fear of the trail sent chills through my body.
But despite the long list of challenges I faced, the hardest part was letting myself know these things were OK. I couldn’t go back and change what happened, the best I could do was process it if I ever wanted to heal. It was not an easy process. Sure, I joked about it and I still do (a lot), but behind the laughs was a broken me, for a long time. Living everyday completely emotionless for several years is miserable; nothing made me happy, nothing brought me joy and everything made me feel… meh.
It took years to start feeling OK. I wish I could pick a specific moment when I felt it for the first time. I wish I could remember the first genuine smile or the first laugh that made me cry. Even though I don’t know the exact moment, I can confidently say that when I smile, it is genuine and I often laugh till I cry. I am happy and have many things in my life that bring me joy.
Every year, on May 31st, I accidentally do something that celebrates that fact that I am alive and well. I say accidentally because the first couple years I didn’t plan to do any of these things, they just happened.
One year later…
I went skydiving in New Zealand. It was June 1st in NZ, but I count it because it was still May 31st in Oregon. I was on a tour and this was the only day we could go skydiving.
Two years later…
I brought home my new best friend, Tucker. I actually picked him out on May 31st and got to bring him home on June 1st. I had tried convincing my parents for months to let me get a puppy and they happened to approve on this day.
I received my acceptance letter to Portland State University to go back to school and finish my degree. I graduated in December 2019. I applied to PSU just a week before hand and got my letter fast.
Four years later…
Stacy and I took it easy and just went out to dinner. Actually, maybe we did breakfast or lunch, neither of us could remember. I don’t have a picture from that day, so here’s one of us from our first and only hike together.
Today, five years later…
Stacy and I started our day off the same way we did on May 31st, 2015: with Dutch Bros. But instead of heading for a hike, we sat in a small park with our coffee and breakfast burritos and talked for a few hours about what has happened in our lives over the last few years. Today was basically an excuse for us to hang out considering the current global pandemic.
I have been scared to go on hikes since that day, and the ones I’ve been on were tough for me. But I hope that one day, I will have the confidence to go back out there and enjoy nature like I used to. And although this day changed my life and brought me so many challenges, you bet I’ll be making jokes about it for many years to come.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I hope everyone stays safe and, like my brother said to me the day I fell, hang in there!
aprilmeads 