A few weeks ago, when I was back home, I knew I needed to get outside but had absolutely zero motivation. Walking Chastain Park is my absolute favorite thing to do when I’m home, but I just couldn’t get myself to leave the house. Every single time I walk that park, I feel an instant rush of happiness and appreciation for my surroundings. It’s that classic therapy dilemma: I know I don’t want to do it, but I know I will feel so much better afterward. It is equally helpful and deeply frustrating.

Eventually, I forced myself out the door. I knew there were only so many days left for me to walk the park before my next chapter, and I knew I would be happy I did it no matter what.

Which really got me thinking. It’s super cliché, but as Miley Cyrus (via Hannah Montana) once sang:

“There’s always going to be another mountain / I’m always gonna wanna make it move / Always gonna be an uphill battle / Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose… / Ain’t about how fast I get there / Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side / It’s the climb.”

That’s awkward—I really thought there was a lyric in there about going the extra mile, but you get the gist.

Actually, hold on. I just had to look up the word “gist” because my spellcheck told me I spelled it wrong (jist), and my entire world is rocked. I feel lied to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in writing before, but seeing it with a ‘G’ just doesn’t feel right.

Anyway, back to the story. I was walking the park listening to Binchtopia, per usual, when it finally clicked. Everyone is right: you are never going to regret going the extra mile. Yes, I already knew this conceptually, but this was a genuine eureka moment for me.

Fast forward to yesterday at 10 p.m. I had just gotten back to my apartment—which is already rare for me—and I was completely exhausted. As I turned the corner, I spotted a dog leash hanging over a storage locker’s door handle. It immediately caught my eye. You don’t normally see dog collars just lying around; they are usually attached to a dog. And while no one really panics over a lost leash, this specific setup felt odd.

At first, my brain went to the normal response: Aw, that sucks. I hate losing things. That was so nice of someone to hang it there so the owner can find it.

Then, the immediate anxiety spiral kicked in: Wait, am I about to get sex trafficked? Why is the collar pink? Is someone using this to lure a girl in? Did I just walk directly into a trap? Should I call the number on the tag, or is that incredibly dangerous?

Recently, I have been actively choosing to be bold, honest, and candid to overcome my anxiety—to feel comfortable and confident being my unapologetic self. So, I picked up the phone and dialed the number on Billie’s collar.

It rang for a bit, but there was no answer. Honestly, completely valid; I am a random person calling from an unknown number, and I would have done the exact same thing. But I decided that since I had already gone through the trouble of calling, I might as well leave a voicemail.

Exactly four minutes later, I got a notification. I didn’t actually see the missed call or the voicemail until much later, but I feel like that tiny four-minute window is incredibly important.

I’ve attached the audio below. I really hope this isn’t a massive invasion of privacy, but since my blog is pretty much publicly private anyway, I think we’re okay.