USA Road Trip Part 2: The Border Crossing
Emotional Support Sunglasses, Anxiety, and Ribeyes
When we hit the border into Montana at the Roosville, BC crossing, I did something weird. I put my sunglasses on.
Not because it was sunny. But because a sudden wave of anxiety flooded through me.
Not because I thought we’d be detained, but because I was feeling the stir of a panic attack rising up in my system.
In my not-so-clear mind, I thought maybe if I hid my eyes, I’d be able to keep it at bay. In hindsight, it always fascinates me how my mind irrationally rationalizes things when it goes into survival mode, for no apparent reason.
I’ve been living with chronic panic attacks since the fall of 2023. Late reflections have made me recall similar experiences when I lived on the East coast when I’d get hit with a wave of dizziness and suddenly feel a sense of distrust in my body to keep me standing upright in crowded public places with offensive fluorescent lighting like Walmart. I mean fair — Walmartians can be terrifying. But the experience would jolt me, and I’d feel afraid enough to leave whatever place I was in and get back to the car as quickly as I could. Otherwise, my only reference point to serious anxiety stems from a visceral fear of heights. I discovered this fear as I drove across the Burlington skyway in Ontario for the first time when I was 21 years old, on my way to work in Hamilton. That was 19 years ago. If you know that bridge, then you know what a beast it is in both size and height. The wave of panic hit me about halfway up the bridge and I can distinctly remember feeling like I might pass out, but the terror of me losing consciousness behind the wheel and driving off the bridge and plunging into Lake Ontario below, pumped enough adrenaline through my system to keep me alert until I was finished crossing.
What. The fuck. Was that? Do I have a fear of heights all of a sudden? Where did that even come from? I grew up climbing trees and rocks and building bridges with logs over rivers and streams and freaking my mother out as I leaped around on the glass floor of the CN Tower. Why now?! What is this?!
My adrenaline dumped on the other side of the bridge and I began to shake as both the fear and the relief collided in my system. Heights have never been the same for me since. Whether I’m creeping across the hotel floor on all fours to peer out the window at Niagara Falls, riding up a ski lift in the Rocky Mountains, being the (absolute worst) passenger in a vehicle driving along a cliff-side road, or standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon itself - I lose my ever-loving mind. I disassociate from my body, and I enter into what my brain perceives as a fight for my life, even though I am perfectly safe in every one of those situations.
I digress, but the heights thing does play a role later in our travels as we encountered dicey mountain switchback roads and, well, the Grand Canyon. So hang in there for this weave.
On September 16, 2023 while I was on stage opening my first major event in Kananaskis, Alberta - I experienced a panic attack that would’ve registered a strong 7 on the Richter scale - inconveniently, as I was reading my opening statement, and setting the tone for the guests. Let’s set the example for what entrepreneurship gets to be for the next generation! Let’s heal! Let’s win! If you don’t mind though, I’ll just quietly prepare to die here in front of all of you.
At first I thought I may have tripped myself up because I was reading from our event newspaper, and not free-styling it with the mic like I usually do. That has definitely caused some stage nerves in the past. Nothing major, though. All those experiences did was lead me to just simply trust that whatever came flying out of my mouth during my talks, was exactly what was meant to. And it led me to be an incredibly powerful speaker that could command the attention of rooms full of hundreds of people. I LOVED speaking on stages at events.
This internal earthquake wasn’t that, though. This wasn’t stage fright or speaking jitters. My heart rate shot up so high, so fast, that it took my breath away. I had a flash visual enter my mind of me completely passing out, and having to be dragged off the stage by my team, praying that Mark Groves would know what to do and keep the event alive while I recovered. That didn’t happen though, I didn’t pass out. But as my heart rate soared, and my breath shallowed, my legs began to weaken.
Get closer to the floor, Sarah.
A cue I took from God knows where - probably actually God - but I listened. I knelt down on one knee and kept reading. Nope, it's still happening and it’s getting worse.
Get down on both knees, Sarah - you need the stability.
I listened. To me, it felt like my voice was trembling as I continued to speak, like I was trying to hold a live jackhammer and speak at the same time. The crowd didn't seem to notice, though.
You need to breathe, Sarah.
Breathe. Right! That thing that keeps us alive. Come on, lungs.
And so I let myself pause my reading, and I took a breath.
There you go. You’re going to be okay.
By slowing my breathing I sent a signal to my body that I wasn’t actually in danger, and that it could feel safe again. I finished my reading, somehow managed to stand back up, finish my talk and introduce our first speaker of the day - Alex Weber, my accidental American friend — you had to be there for that epic story — but I just adore him. I got off the stage and motioned for my husband to come to where I was sitting. I let him know what happened and he ran back to our room to whip me up a protein shake. Even he, the one who knows me the best, couldn’t tell from the audience’s perspective, what I had just endured. What a show I must’ve put on…I reflect on the strength I conjured up during those moments, and I continue to be wowed to this day. Still, I thought maybe I just needed food. I had been hydrating and eating well leading into the event though, but I was nonetheless hopeful that a good dose of protein and minerals would cure whatever nightmare that was.
Unfortunately, that was only the first of over 40 attacks I endured over the course of that weekend. It’s remarkable that I didn’t get carried out on a stretcher, but it’s a reminder of just how hard our bodies work for us, even when we’re doubting them so hard. But the real primal fear set in when they continued happening while I was in my home, at the grocery store, and behind the wheel of my vehicle - long after my event was done. My body had found its way into a perpetual state of survival mode, as my sympathetic nervous system took over my entire life.
But don't worry guys, I put emotional support sunglasses on for that border crossing and I stayed in my body, even when the officer kindly asked me to remove my sunglasses so he could compare me to my passport photo. Duh, of course he’d ask me to remove them. Dingus.
What they don’t tell you about panic attacks, is the fear you feel in your every-day life, as you worry about having a panic attack. Having them are bad enough, but then the rest of the time you’re living in total fear about having another one, so much so that you actually bring them on yourself, almost willfully. I’ve panicked so hard about panicking that I’ve literally given myself a panic attack. How embarrassing.
The last time I drive down this road I had a panic attack. Will I have one again?
The last time this cashier was working and asked me how my day was, I had a panic attack. Will I have one again?
The last time I sat down in this restaurant, I had a panic attack. Will I have one again?
The last time my family sat down at my dinner table, I had a panic attack. Will I have one again?
The last time I had a bath in the afternoon, I had a panic attack. Will I have one again?
Turns out the answer 9/10 times is YES, you will absolutely have a panic attack again if all you do is panic about panicking. Fuck.
For even deeper context behind the meaning of this road trip, three weeks before we left, I had an attack so bad that my husband took me to emerge. That was the first time I consented to western medical care, nearly 19 months after my dreadful event experience. We had a house full of people I love, and I couldn’t even come out of our bedroom. My legs wouldn’t hold me up every time I tried to be strong and make my way to the bedroom door to head down to our guests. You may read this and think “wtf is wrong with her?” Here’s what I can tell you. A panic attack isn’t anxiety. People joke about having panic attacks as a means to comically describe a stressful situation they were in. If only… True panic attacks are traumatic. It's a mental and nervous system response that is no different than if your life was actually under imminent threat. It's fight or flight. A gun to your head. A grizzly bear chasing you. Being trapped in a burning room. It produces the same response, very much like severe PTSD. An attack will trigger a sky rocketing heart rate that leads to a shortness of breath. This cues the panic because your nervous system now believes that your life is in danger. And when your body responds to a life threatening situation, it sends all of its resources to your center mass to protect your vital organs. This decreases blood flow in your arms and legs, which can lead to loss of feeling in, and control over your limbs. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to drag my body across our living room floor, because my legs went limp during an episode. Oh, and the adrenaline? A tsunami of it. Once it passes, you’re left with an adrenaline dump that leaves you shaking like a leaf, with purple hands and feet as you wait for your blood circulation to return to normal.
I cried in defeat the whole way to the hospital, after Rob cleared our house of our friends and sent them off to the neighbour’s for a bonfire with plates full of smoked ribs that had been on the Traeger all day. I kept saying “I just want my life back” between the sobs, and while I laid there in complete surrender on the hospital bed minutes after we arrived, as they triaged me immediately based on the state I entered in. They ran over 25 tests on me that took nearly two weeks to get all the results back from. Perfect physical health. Both an astonishing relief to see formal lab work which obliterated a growing belief that I was simply dying and wouldn’t even see my 40th birthday. And equally daunting because it meant that I had to face whatever it was that was wanting to make itself known, hiding somewhere in the abyss of my subconscious mind, using my body as its megaphone. A deeper share for another post. But at least I could go on our trip and turn 40, without the shadow of death lurking over my shoulder. That was worth celebrating.
Believe it or not, I’ve done some of the deepest work and healing of my life throughout these last 18 months. I’ve been in what has felt like a tornado of awakenings for the last 5 years. And I’ve gone through great periods where I have truly believed I’ve conquered the beast, only for it to awaken from its slumber from God only knows where inside myself. I'll share more on that process another day.
Side note: For you Astrology buffs out there that are chomping at the bit to inquire about my birth info, I’ll be sharing more on this another time as well. IYKYK.
Back to our border crossing.
We were the only vehicle coming in from Canada. If anyone is curious as to how powerful our Canadian government-funded media is — that should tell you everything you need to know. Yet after only about 90 seconds and a couple of questions, the officer was telling us to enjoy our trip - and just like that, we were in America. Just us, defying the imminent threat of American travel danger while the CBC warned Canadians of certain doom. It was reminiscent of Joe Biden’s threat of a long winter of severe illness and death for the unvaccinated in 2021. I’m so bored by their attempts to scare the shit out of us, in order to gain more control.
While I didn’t want to be in an anxiety-inducing position of having to unpack our entire supply of gear in the back of our Bronco to satisfy border security, part of me did want to show off my Lug-a-Loo — my fancy bucket with a toilet seat fit for places where even outhouses don’t exist. Maybe they’ll ask what’s in the bucket on the way back. Stay tuned in upcoming entries for a video demonstration of this genius invention. #notsponsored
When the Bronco hit American dirt I tossed my emotional support goggles back in the center console, and relaxed as we kicked off our adventure in the stunning state of Montana. Not today, panic. Not today.
Coming across the border in Roosville, BC popped us into a two-lane highway that led us through an hour of dense green, as we drove through the Kootenai and Flathead forests. It was a little surprising to be in such a heavily treed area when you anticipated rolling hills and mountain landscapes to just be everywhere. It's amazing what television and advertising does to our perception. Our first stop for the night was in Columbia Falls, just outside Whitefish. When we drove through Whitefish, I absolutely loved it. Clean. Fresh. A little Western chic. I thought for sure we’d find an epic restaurant on the lake but it turns out those are hard to come by at the end of April. As Albertans, we think anything over -5 is patio season so long as the sun is out. We were surprised that so many locations, campgrounds and park areas were still closed for the “winter season”, even though it was pushing 20C. Wimps. All kidding aside, Whitefish is on our list of places to return to.
Anyway, with no luck in the lakeside patio department, we meandered our way over to Columbia falls, only to find out most restaurants are closed on Monday. Is anyone even alive in Montana on a Monday in April? It was unclear. But like a sunlit temple, there stood a Mexican restaurant with a neon “open” sign. Vaqueros. Praise be. A quick search of customer reviews and off we went inside for tacos and a margarita for me, and a burrito and a Modelo for Rob. As usual when ordering tacos, my excitement is far greater than the size of my stomach, and I could only finish half my meal.
Our next big adventure that day was stocking up on the essentials: groceries, water, and beer, obviously. We found a grocery store and in we went. I’m a grocery store nerd. I love being in new stores and seeing different brands and foods. I was also eager to get a grasp on their grocery prices in contrast to Canadian prices after 10 years of a Liberal government in Canada. Turns out, 4 years of Dems will achieve the same thing. So much for cheap shopping in America. I think we spent $55+USD on 2 ribeyes. And when you're spoiled with Alberta beef, those steaks were nothing to write home about. Have no fear though, the beer was cheap. ‘Merica.🇺🇸
Alas, we arrived at our first destination for the night. Due to campgrounds being closed, and us not discovering the world of dispersed camping through the Bureau of Land Management just yet, Rob made sure we were secured with two Airbnbs for the first two nights of our trip to get us through the “Winter Season” area before heading into warmer climates. We pulled up to a sweet little Airbnb, campground-esque location with little cabins and treehouses. What a dream it would be to build a run a place like that! I mentally added it to the list of businesses I will build before I die.
Since it was Monday, and Montana was still dead-set on it being winter despite the warm temps, we were the only people on the entire property. We cleaned out the firewood bin, left the required cash in the honour system box and set up shop at the fire pit. It was election night, and as usual, I was set on covering the show.
Next up - The election results, my 40th birthday, the Dutton Ranch and a chuckwagon in Idaho.
Sarah
PS - Scroll down for links for accommodations, restaurants & reviews.
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Restaurants & Accommodations
The Cowboy Cabin. Look up the host’s other listings for a full scope of the property and its options for accommodations. This was a great place to stay. If we had of been venturing into Glacier National Park, this would have been a great location, too. Just aheads up though, there are porta-potties and a separate building for showers and flushing toilets. It’s simple, but sweet. The host was extremely responsive as well. The only thing that was a bit “off” about it, was that it’s not as remote as the pictures lead you to believe. From the Cowboy Cabin, we could see other people’s properties, and the main road was across the field and within our view. So the sight and sound of vehicles was quite constant. That could mean absolutely nothing for the average people, but we live an incredibly remote lifestyle so these things do tend to stand out for us.
Vaqueros Mexican restaurant in Columbia Falls. The service was…meh. The food was good, but not worth leaving a raving review for. If you need a fix of Mexican food, this will absolutely provide, but we’ve had better. However, it was OPEN and for that we were grateful.
Beautifully written, Sarah. I appreciate your willingness to share the scary reality of panic attacks. I know there are many of us that can relate to just how debilitating and horrendous they are. The panic about having another attack is the worst!! Your truth, courage, and honesty will help so many. Thank you 🙏🏻
i would have never guessed you've been suffering from debilitating panic attacks based on your presence. thanks for your vulnerability. kinda made my palms sweat!