If you’re still here after this year, I want to say thank you. You’re one of the real ones who stuck around even when I didn’t, and I appreciate you!
2023 was one of those years where life happened, and life happened hard. Court and I got to travel on a whirlwind adventure literally around the world in February. I got to perform a principal role in the local ballet company’s production of Cinderella in April. We watched my sister get married and start a new chapter of her life in May. We even made it to Alaska for an incredible adventure in July.
But life happens.
In June, the water in the Laguna Madre went down to winter tides while the temperature went up to wild highs. The fish vanished and every trip down the laguna became just a little more demoralizing for me and Court. We watched weather reports, asked guide friends about the fishing, and nothing changed.
We went from fishing at least once every weekend in the summer to fishing maybe three times the entire summer. With prostaffer spots on the line, I started to panic; I have no content because nature is making it almost impossible for me to actually go fishing. I have no content, and I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked for.
With hunting season around the corner after we returned from our trip to Alaska, I started to feel more hopeful. We always had at least a couple of trips planned for hunting season, and I knew I could stretch out some content that I was able to generate from there.
But friends, life happens.
Nutcracker season started up with a promising balance for our hunting plans. The first weekend of rehearsals, we spent time away with family, so I wasn’t worried about missing rehearsals. The second weekend, I got knocked down with a nasty infection, so I missed again. But I still figured I could squeeze in one hunting weekend, and maybe I wouldn’t let my castmates down.
But. Life. Happens.
On November 1st, my grandfather passed away. My family came together in Eastern Oklahoma about two weeks before Thanksgiving to say goodbye and to be together for a few days. Being back at my grandparents’ farm for the first time since 2019, in the quiet of the Oklahoma countryside, it brought back a lot of memories.
Of fishing on the pond and squealing because I didn’t want to touch a fish. Of picking okra and asparagus from the garden to make for dinner that night with Grandma. Of talking about God with Grandpa. Of picking wildflowers over spring break and making a bouquet with my sister. Of sitting on their front porch with a book, feeling the breeze stir through the eaves while humming birds hovered around the feeder.
It was a simpler time, where we lived with nature because that was life, not because we had to make content for social media.
These memories lingered with me when we returned home and entered the final stretch of the Nutcracker, whitetail, and holiday season. It wasn’t easy to put deer hunting aside, but my castmates were depending on me at the ballet, and I was anxious to enjoy another show on stage after so many years of being denied the chance.
It wasn’t until I collapsed onto the couch on December 17th after completing my final Nutcracker show of 2023, that I finally admitted to myself that I didn’t know what to do anymore. I felt broken. My body was battered and hurting after battling injuries all fall. My mind raced for ideas on what I could possibly post when I hadn’t been outdoors in months. Hunting and fishing had become an important part of our lives; it sustained us physically and spiritually in so many ways. Dance had finally come back into my life, and I was going to continue dancing on borrowed time for as long as my body would allow.
My exhaustion mutated into anger. I am not a niche!!!!!
And that’s when it hit me; I’m not a niche. I’m not just an outdoorswoman. I’m not just a ballet dancer. I’m not just a blogger. I’m not just a reader. I’m not just a gym rat. I’m not just a helicopter dog mom. I’m not just a wife, sister, daughter, teacher, choreographer, marketer, etc.
I am all of those things.
And I’m tired of trying to fit all of those things into one, simple, tidy category that I can check off on Instagram’s “what kind of profile are you?” section.
So I won’t anymore.
The outdoors is a huge part of my life; we subsist off of the things we catch and harvest, and I want to do more! I live in a city, so I’m not able to hunt every single day during deer season, and that’s the way it is. I have a small backyard and live in a Coastal Plain climate for goodness sake; gardening probably isn’t going to be a thing for me. I’m an urban outdoorswoman that enjoys the fruits of her harvest in the food that she eats to fuel her body and provide for her family.
If you’re still here, this is basically my way of saying that I’m rebranding. I’m not Jess in the Outdoors anymore.
I am Jess and the Outdoors, living my life with as much nature as I can fit within my lifestyle in the city pursuing all of the things I love.
There’s going to be more cooking, more unusual ways of harvesting wild game (stay tuned, there’s some exotic hunting in the future this year!), attempts at growing and using something that actually thrives in South Texas (cacti, I guess?), some failed attemps at gardening (I have plans, y’all!), some annecdotes about being a buff ballerina, and lots of adventures centered around the life of an urban outdoorswoman.
For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling really excited and positive about sharing about my journey here and on social media. It won’t be perfect, and it’ll probably be messy at times, but I’m okay with it. If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that life happens, and sometimes it happens hard. But it’s not about how hard you get knocked down; it’s about getting back up.
So look out, y’all; the Camo-Wearing Ballerina is back.
Jess and the Outdoors 