Towards Grace
As my father has said many times, “Good thing we didn't call you Grace.” As well as never knowing quite what to do with my lanky body I have also found it hard to find grace in other ways. “Grant me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” I have never been too good at the first part. I have spent most of my life learning to be strong and tough, which as it turns out can both be a strength and a weakness. This has carried over into my climbing. My determination to never complain, be the most enthusiastic, be cheerful at 2 am, remain level-headed no matter what the situation, prove to myself and the male-dominated climbing community that I was good enough, and make people want to climb with me. It seems to have worked – I am seldom without a climbing partner! This level of determination and energy has gone into everything I do, from my school work to my relationships. To always be in control. To always be self-reliant. A couple of years back I hurt my back climbing and could barely walk. One day I was in an op-shop in Wanaka and sat down on a couch while a friend was shopping. When I tried to stand up I was in such pain that I was unable to rise. An older gentleman saw me and helped me up, calling me “Flower”. I was mortified – I was a tough and independent woman, not a delicate flower! Later when I had recovered from the injury somewhat but was still unable to climb or carry a pack I walked up onto Fox Glacier with some friends who were going ice climbing. I felt highly embarrassed that I was not carrying a pack or climbing. I was desperately hoping to not be spotted by any climbers! I did not want to be seen as the 'useless' girl who made her boyfriend carry her stuff. Over the past year, I have been suffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and have been struggling to care for myself on a day-to-day basis let alone climb. A month or so ago I was having a sifting (relaxing) weekend in Arthur's Pass with a friend. I decided I was up to a short walk and we chose to go to Punchbowl Falls. After multiple breaks, I got to the top of the first small set of stairs and knew that was as far as I would make it. My friend offered to piggy-back me the rest of the way and I enthusiastically agreed. I did not even think about what other people would think if they saw us. I just enjoyed the ride. It appears that Grace may be slowly sneaking up on me.
I am not a climber
I am not a climber, though I really, really enjoy climbing. I am not an ecologist though I study ecology. Being sick for the past year and thus being unable to climb, and now unable to study, has highlighted this important distinction for me. I have found these limited definitions of myself to be quite damaging and constricting. It has led me to feel inadequate and a lesser person for being unable to fulfill the criteria to realize these identities. I have spent many months just waiting to get well so that I can go back to my old way of life instead of enjoying the present moment. I read recently in an old Climber magazine an article by a woman who had injured herself climbing and seriously struggled with being incapable of climbing to the point of depression. I have similarly seen myself and others become lost when unable to fit into a specific identity. Parents feel lost when their children leave home, and retired people become depressed after quitting their jobs. I have friends who have told me they would rather die than no longer be able to climb. It scares me. What am I? I am a living being composed of millions of other beings, histories, and happenings that took a whole universe, 14+ billion years of history, to come out just the way I am. Isn't that enough? I think so. Of course, I miss climbing. And I very much hope to climb again! I have routes planned for when I get well. But I also know I am able and will continue to be able to live a happy, fulfilled, and meaningful life even if for some reason I never climb again. So, what are you?
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