[LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 8] Confronting OCD in Woljeong-ri

Tiny life on Jeju Island / Courtesy of Rachel Stine

By Rachel Stine

By June 2022, I had just a few Olle Trails stamps left to collect. In true perfectionist fashion, I was adamant about completing my passport on June 18 ― my first anniversary of starting the trails. In order to achieve that, I had to hike every Sunday.

That meant Saturday nights were for prep. Most evenings, I shoved a salad into Tupperware, tossed an apple in my bag and charged my camera battery. I double-checked all the bus schedules. Then, early Sunday morning, I would head to the northeast coast of Jeju Island.

Olle Trail Route 20 was no different from other trips. The only problem was, halfway there, it started pouring rain.

But I wasn't giving up. With all the stubbornness of an old bulldog, I slogged through the coastal course with no poncho and no umbrella. The rain was like watery needles stinging my eyes, and I had to pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my face to see.

Surprisingly, I wasn't the only hiker out in these conditions. There were several older Koreans as well, and although they were equipped with ponchos, they were still struggling to advance. Some eventually disappeared down random olle and abandoned the course.

By the time I reached the midpoint stamp, I was soaked to the bone. My fingernails had turned blue. I took out my Olle passport and realized further exposure to rain might disintegrate the entire document. It was only then that I admitted to myself, silently: "I can't let my passport get ruined…maybe I should go home."

The OCD banshee in my head shrieked.

"You can't split the trail into two days! Otherwise it…it won't count!"

But after almost a year in the woods, contemplating my limited time on this planet, I had recovered some fragment of common sense. I shut the stamp box door. I pulled out my phone and hailed a taxi.

This was the psychological equivalent of whispering to the OCD demon: "I decide what counts."

Soon, I was on the red 151 bus back home.

At my apartment, I peeled off my soaked clothes by the door. I took a hot shower, prepped apple cinnamon tea and ate jam cookies. I listened to old video essays by Contrapoints and took what was possibly the most satisfying nap of my life.

Then, on a Thursday morning, I returned to complete the remaining half of Trail 20.

That route, perhaps more than anything else, reminds me that discomfort is a critical ally to OCD sufferers. Discomfort comes when we resist compulsions. Discomfort comes when we say: "Actually, I don't need to check the stove again." If OCD is a dark forest, then discomfort is the lantern we hold while seeking a way out. It shows us that perfection is a human fever dream.

Because when we're on Route 6, staring at fern-covered waterfalls that pour into the ocean, we realize there is only one perfect force. It's the same force that created those waterfalls ― Mama Universe. OCD hijacks the very limited time we have to relish Her creation.

Mama Universe has two twins ― Life and Death. They are everywhere in the gotjawal (Jeju subtropical forest). Mushrooms grow on rotting trees. House sparrows crunch down squirming beetles. The soil churns.

Even when we exit a forest trail, Life and Death follow us. They watch our last job promotion, our last breakup, our last Twitter feud. Decades pass. Our life-road grows wild, like the gotjawal.

Only then do we finally return to their Mother. Every day spirals us closer to Her warm darkness.

While on the Olle Trails, I juxtaposed these matriarchal musings to my Roman Catholic upbringing. A CCD teacher once assured me that animals go to heaven because "they're untouched by original sin." It is only human beings ― who are broken and fallen and full of hubris, she said ― who can be sent to hell.

My hell was the OCD-fueled belief that I was in control. It was vomiting all morning and then trying to exercise at night. It was carefully reading and rereading every single Facebook comment as though it were a matter of Life and Death. (Here, the twins laughed.)

The Olle Trails helped me rediscover what animals already know?― that we have no control. That belongs solely to Mama Universe.

LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 1 How hiking Jeju's 437km of trails changed my life
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 2 Fighting agrarian anxiety attacks on Jeju's paths
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 3 Carrying a grandma through Yaksu Station
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 4 Going full white lady in the woods
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 5 Getting ice cream and umbrellas from strangers
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 6 Discovering deer carcasses at the tea museum
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 7 Healing perfectionism on Pyoseon Beach
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 8 Confronting OCD in Woljeong-ri
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 9 Reading a poem about death in the woods
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 10 Confronting the subconscious saboteur
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 11 Worrying about comments section chaos
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 12 Saying goodbye in Gueok-ri
LIFE'S OLLE TRAILS 13 Walking back, fast or slow

Rachel Stine has volunteered in the North Korean human rights sphere for over a decade. Her writing has appeared in The Huffington Post, The Korea Times and other major news outlets. You can view nature photography from her journeys around the world at flickr.com/photos/rachelstinewrites.