Let’s talk about rock climbing.
In the last few months, I’ve found myself engaging in an activity I was once too afraid of: rock climbing. Actually — to be more specific — it’s indoor bouldering: no harnesses, no belays, no walls over 20 feet that make my stomach turn just thinking about them. Through what I’ve seen of indoor bouldering facilities, it’s just you, some chalk, a 10 to 15 foot wall, and all the strength you can muster to get up and down those walls.
My mental and physical strength are usually pretty on par with each other. I have very little upper body strength, which does not bode well for my mental strength’s capabilities in getting my hands to the top of some of the walls. I can usually get my hand to the top of the first few I do or the painfully easy ones later on in the session. But after a fairly short while (and a few failed attempts at some of the harder courses I try out of sheer curiosity as to how silly I can make myself look in front of a group of strangers), I’m usually pretty pooped. But boy do I always leave a happy albeit sore lady.
Growing up, heights were a constant source of unshakeable fear. I seldom would swing too high on the swing set, or climb to the top of the metal spider-web dome, or conquer the small kid-friendly rock wall at the elementary school a few blocks from my house (which subsequently was not my elementary school, and was still unconquerable as I went through junior high and high school).
Speaking of high school, I would dread set-building days when getting ready for my school plays because I was always afraid of getting delegated the task of set painter. I luckily only had that task once and spent a hair-raising, heart-pounding 30 minutes climbing up and down ladders in order to paint the ever-changing facades that created the various worlds I inhabited all throughout high school. And if that wasn’t bad enough (I still get nervous thinking about it), I also once had a role in a show that required me and my love interest to stand atop ladders while speaking to each other. The ladders would get us — at most — 6 feet off the ground. Knowing that did nothing to cure me of my trembling knees and sweaty palms. It was great.
My next big battle against heights gets us back to the topic at hand and happened a few years later in my first year of college: I went rock climbing on a date. I had met a guy on a trip to the Hollywood Sign and Griffith Observatory that a friend and I signed up for together through our school. The three of us spent the entirety of the day together, steadily dancing our way up the trail to the Hollywood Sign with Gangnam Style as our soundtrack then exploring the Griffith Observatory while reminiscing about our dance moves. Apparently my dance moves were pretty impressive because the guy and I ended up exchanging numbers, which is how a few days later saw me meeting him at our school’s rec center setting up to rock climb. I was shaking. I desperately wanted a way out, but he was cute and nice and I wanted to seem fun and adventurous. So he belayed me while I ascended a vertical wall well over 20 feet high. It was terrifying and mildly liberating. I would look down every few feet and see a sweet face looking up at me on my journey. For a brief moment, I did feel like I was unstoppable.
Then came the time when I had to get back down.
I’m also a mild control freak, just so we can get that out of the way now. So the fact that I was now pretty much at the top of this almost 30 foot wall with only one real way down sent a chill of terror down my spine. I kept hearing the voice of my steady belayer calling up to me saying “Just let go, I’ve got you”. That didn’t stop me from holding on to the holds on the wall for dear life for easily a full minute or so. Every part of my body resisted even the thought of letting go of the wall and letting my ENTIRE LIFE REST IN THE HANDS OF THIS GUY I HAD ONLY KNOWN FOR AN ACCUMULATIVE 24 HOURS OF TIME. I did eventually remember that I was in the middle of pretending I was fun and adventurous, so for everyone’s sake I did let go of the wall to be gently belayed back down to the solid ground of Earth. That was the end of the date for me because the guy had another friend there that he was going to climb with. We parted ways and that was that.
Conquering my fear of heights comes about in slow, steady spurts. When I was asked in October of last year to join some friends and their group in indoor bouldering, I almost told them that I was too afraid to do it. However, as I’ve gotten older and in light of recent regrets I have regarding my fears, I decided against it. I decided to not only face my fear of heights but to do so in front of a group of people I didn’t know. And it was terrifying. But it was revolutionary for my soul. It was revitalizing. It was something I didn’t even realize I needed as badly as I needed it. I was out of my comfort zone in so many ways that I was almost calm during my first attempt at climbing in years. It was a rush to be up on the wall with nothing helping me. It was also terrifying to realize that in order to get back down I either had to muster the strength to climb down or I had to launch myself from the wall and onto the mats below. And as we mentioned before, my upper body strength is abysmal, so I also learned the art form of screeching graciously as I fell onto the mats below, trying out different variations of my dismount. It was exhilarating.
Now I’ve only been climbing 2 or 3 other times since then, but every time I go gets me more and more excited. It’s a chance to explore what my body is capable of and break out of mental cages that fear tends to trap me in. It’s a great way to catch up with friends while rooting each other on to challenge ourselves (and then laughing hysterically when we fail miserably at a course). It’s a constant learning experience, especially when the place I go to changes the courses in different sections of the facility every week or two. Most importantly, it’s a reminder that I’m always growing, always improving, and always showing up for myself.
Here’s to many more blistered hands, chalky clothes, and moments surrounded by friends as I conquer my fears one foot hold at a time.
Heart Matters 