Leaning Down the Mountain, and Into My Relationship with Fear

I started learning how to ski this year. I was motivated out of restlessness and fueled by my resentments.

I turned towards the slopes to get some of this trauma response energy moving through and out of my body. 

I go every other Monday as a part of a dedicated movement and inner child practice. Today, as I usually do, I went on my own with new gear in hand and uncomfortable new boots on my feet.

My first run was frustrating. I felt unsteady and overly cautious. I texted one of my mentors to tell her I didn’t think I wanted to stay but I felt that I would feel guilty if I were to leave. In a “let me prove this to myself" mood, I went for another run. Runs two through eight were some of my most proud runs yet. I could feel the control and sense of grounding that comes from having my body stacked over itself.

I learned that with a little bit of trust and speed, I could have more say over what choices were available to me while cruising down the mountain. 

After several laps, I was still motivated + content, but had sore toes and a hungry belly.

I was ready to head home,

but I tend to always want “just one more.”

It’s an anxious trait that I come by quite honestly.

However, it's a known practice amongst the skiers that you never ‘call your last run.’ Unbeknownst to me, I did exactly that. After my “last run,” I approached the gondola only to be told that it was not in service due to high wind speeds.

I was advised that if I wanted to leave the mountain I would need to ski down it. 

Expressing my concern about my skill level, they told me that if I could ski the trail I was just on that I’d be fine with the trail to my car. 

Long story short, this trail was not in my scope of practice, it was steep as f*** and went on forever. I was scared, filled with adrenaline, and a considerable amount of self-doubt. Without thinking about it too much, I found myself saying yes to what I did not know.

There was no way to go up and I had no idea how I was going to get down.

I was able to rally for about one-half of the significantly long run. After a while, I made the compassionate choice to walk some of the steepest parts. On my hike, a kind ski patrol approached me, asking if I needed help. With frustrated and hormonal tears in my eyes, I said “yes - I do not know where I am going, nor do I know how to ski this area.”

“I do in fact need help.”

 He coached me down the mountain, guiding me through the terrain and gave me tips on how to navigate this new environment with strange flat objects strapped to my feet. He was non-judgmental and he even praised me for my positive attitude. We made it to our destination where I would be shuttled back to my car. Before parting ways he shared with me “someone is having a harder time than you.” I looked over and a person with a broken leg was being loaded into an emergency vehicle. 

While I don’t like to compare stressors, I will count my blessings for being a 30 year old with no history of broken bones (although there have been many broken hearts that I will save for another time).

There was something very relieving about making a choice that was not so calculated. Pointing my skis down the incline and saying “okay, here goes nothing” is a practice that I’ve largely only been able to tolerate while under the influence of substances for most of my life. 

Today felt a lot different. I believe I was able to face this big unknown with a ‘positive attitude’ because of my recent run-ins with heartbreak and healing (IYKYK). 

This is not to say I want to invite any more non-consensual life lessons for the foreseeable future.

I DO, however, want to explore more opportunities to have CHOICE about facing fears.

I imagine this looks like naming my fears, turning towards them, and engaging with them (rather than trying to make them go away).

Fears are not for fixing, they seem to be more for following and finding out.

I followed my fear down that mountain and saw it through to a place that felt solid

Do I love it? No. 

Did I learn more about my fear? Yes. 

Am I feeling more curious about these fears? Absolutely. 

I got home and checked out my co-star only to read:

“Chase a thrill, take the long view.” Followed by: “You feel comfortable enough to take risks today. It’s always better to launch you into the unknown from a solid platform. You don’t have to be perfect.”

“Just be you.”

And, I was - fears and all.

In all my messy moments, I know that I can still feel safe and aligned.

Happy New Moon in Aquarius to all of those who are feeling ambiguous about their big fears and curious about what that could mean.