Check out this photo. See the teensy-weensy figure with arms outstretched? That was me this morning, flying through space on something called a zip line, on the campus of an all-boys camp in Maine.

What was I doing literally hanging around an all-boys camp? Have I completely lost it and started stalking pimply young lads in the woods? Oh, please.

Here’s the deal: I’ve got a two-week gig running a creative-writing program at Camp Move It, an all-girls arts camp here in Maine; this camp uses some of the facilities at the boys camp down the road, including the zip line. I arrived here a few days before the campers, in order to get the lay of the land and meet the rest of the staff, which consists mostly of lovely young women in their early 20s. (Never have I been so painfully aware of the fact that I am really, truly, not in my 20s anymore. Fortunately there aren’t a lot of mirrors in the great outdoors to help me confirm this.)

So, back to the zipline, which we were all invited to try, aided by a few of the staff at the boys camp. First, a counselor with the very summer-campish nickname “Crazy Dave” put me in a bright blue harness and clipped me to a rope; then I scaled a huge tree and was helped onto a tiny wooden platform that was at least 30 feet off the ground. On the platform was a reassuring English guy whose job it was to talk me off the ledge.

Here is what I learned: It is terrifying to throw yourself off the side of a very tall tree into open space. Terr. I. Fy. Ing. You have to trust that two little strings and a pulley are going to keep you from hitting the ground and busting open like a raw egg. But I did it and it was exhilarating and all day I’ve felt really cool and brave and like maybe I am still 22 years old.

But wait, this blog isn’t supposed to be about random events in my life; it’s about this very specific post-separation period. So watch as I tie it all together: As I was anticipating climbing the tree, I kept thinking: Metaphor alert! Metaphor alert!

Terror. Fear. Wishing you could turn back. A nice guy pushes you off the ledge. You think you will not survive. But you do. You put your faith in the two little strings and the pulley that are holding you up because you have to. You have no choice.

Get it??

Me, being talked off the ledge.