I first started climbing about two years ago. Duck introduced me to it. It was (still is) a passion of his and the first time I went with him was not only a baptism of something he loved so much, but also, so I could meet his friends. I was scared out of my mind.

Not just because I was meeting my beau’s best friends, but because I was scared of heights. It seems silly to admit now, two years later as I’m scaling 10 foot bouldering walls and getting closer to hitting the top of the 18 foot wall, but I was (still am, in fact) terrified of heights.

On that particular occasion it took me two hours to climb up the simplest route on the main wall, it was a “ladder” problem with jug holds (something I will explain in later postings). And when I did it I was so proud of myself. Just that feeling of accomplishment and having faced this very scary thing and conquered it.

Little did I know that was probably the first of many triumphs I would face. And not all of them climbing related. It’s something I faced again and again as I went through my divorce and everything associated with it. Somehow, thinking of life as those same problems that graced the wall of the climbing gym, made everything seem a little bit more manageable.

It’s something I want to share with you all, not just my weird crazy adventure into them old of climbing, but also everything it has done for me on the other side.

After all, as it has become my motto: You don’t know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.

 

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