From Martyrdom to Goblin Girl

For years I’ve worked to build trails - not by laying stone or swinging tools, but by raising the money, pulling together volunteers, and holding the long vision for what these paths can become. Trails feel like lifelines to me: ways for people to breathe, to heal, to gather.

But lately, my own trail has been disappearing under the brush. I’ve cared for my mother for five years, but in the past two months, her needs have grown heavy. She is blind, has Parkinson’s, and struggles with hypoglycemia. My help is not optional. It is fecking required.

And here’s the raw truth: I’ve fallen into martyrdom these past few weeks. Martyrdom, turns out, breeds resentment toward her, toward myself, toward the very role I’ve taken on. And yet the work must be done. The paradox has been grinding me down.

Then, a little spark lit up my screen on social media: a meme about “Goblin Girl Walks.” Forget hot girl walks, it said. Goblin girl walks are where you leave the house looking like a feral swamp creature, and the fresh air and scenic views help you rediscover your will to live.

I laughed out loud, and then I felt a little saved.

Because what if this is part of how I cut through the tangle? Not by pretending everything is noble sacrifice, not by polishing myself into some ideal, but by stumbling outside half-wild, into the air and trees and mud. By remembering that trails don’t care what you look like — they just want your feet on them.

So this October, Resilient Trails Network is hosting Goblin Girl Hikes every Saturday. Casual hikes for chaotic souls. No need to be graceful. No need to be anything but human, breathing, walking, alive.

Maybe that’s how I learn to navigate out of martyrdom: one goblin step at a time.

This is my signal fire. The trail is still here. And maybe, together, we can clear it.