Wait, was that the peak?
mountain doodle
A few years back I found myself feeling stuck in life. Some pretty big disruptors had fallen into my path and after multiple attempts to find a way around them which resulted in dead ends; expending far more energy than I had to backtrack each time, I ran out of gas and could find nothing left in the tank to continue bushwhacking my way back to the main road in my life. In fact, I felt as if I carried the weight of a boulder on my shoulders and just wanted to lie down and rest; not caring about the journey anymore.
During this time of heaviness a wise friend helped me define this challenging time in my life as a mountain I was climbing. We spent much time fleshing out this metaphor together; reflecting on where I was on my climb. I was hyper focused on defining the peak and thought about the majestic vistas at the apex of the mountain. Wasn’t this what climbers strove for? I remember taking hikes with friends who loved the mountains and relished the hard work of the climb because they exclaimed it was the view that made the struggle worthwhile. And so, I put a lot of energy into thinking about the view I was going to be rewarded with once I got to the top. I fantasized about clarity. I dreamed of golden sunsets and magical breezes filling my lungs with fresh air and revitalizing my tired soul with energy. I thought about how different and better life was on the other side. Surely the grass had to be greener over there and the sunshine sunnier for all the effort I was putting into the climb on this side of things where all I could see were boulders in my path and bleak and barren landscapes. I began to fear I’d never reach the top. I worried that I wasn’t strong enough to make it. I came pretty close to giving up.
At one point I actually asked my therapist to help me pack a metaphorical backpack with life skills necessary for survival on such a hard climb and wanted to make sure I was leaving baggage behind because who wants to lug all that heaviness up a mountain anyway? I definitely planned on not needing nearly as much “stuff” once I got to the other side of the mountain anyway. We also spent a fair amount of time making a literal map to help me visualize where I had been and where I was going.
After one particularly tiring session where I was lamenting about the weight of stories I was carrying, I remember my counselor offering for me to set some of them down, assuring me that she’d be happy to watch over them in case I wanted them back at some point. Somehow this worked for me. I wasn’t ready to just jettison them and leave them abandoned on the side of the trail , so it felt better to know that these pieces of myself that I was outgrowing would be safe with her on the outside chance that I’d need them again someday. (FYI, I haven’t gone back for them yet!)
This shift was really important, though I can’t say exactly WHAT shifted in the metaphor, except that I literally woke up one day knowing I was on the other side of the mountain. What’s more, I had totally somehow missed the climax. There was no fanfare, no celebration, no miraculous moment of joy and celebration and what the fuck (pardon my crass language) how had I missed the view; it was all I was looking forward to! I can remember vividly sitting on the edge of my bed upon waking and just sitting their blinking in disbelief because there was this deep feeling of groundedness and “knowing” inside myself that was not there before. It wasn’t a moment of celebration like I had anticipated reaching the top of the mountain would be, but rather a lot like waking up scantily clad and alive and stepping out into a new day full of possibility and purpose. It as scary and confusing and yet it was also really invigorating and a little bit exciting. And that’s how each day has begun since; though I must share that there are days when I feel more and more fully clothed!
When I look back on it now, it was as if speaking aloud some of the things I had kept so tightly bound inside made me feel lighter. The resulting loosening allowed in light and coaxed a bloom where nothing could flower previously. I think it was this moment that I really began to step into the word BLOOM and use it as a metaphor to allow the authentic parts of myself to thrive.
I’ve spent much of the last two years cultivating the garden of my true self over here on “this side” of the mountain, though I never quite defined exactly what the mountain was and I revel in how I got over it at all and sometimes still feel disappointment that I missed the view at the top.
Today, I was listening to the Unlocking Us podcast where Brene’ Brown was in conversation with Roxanne Gay and Debbie Millman. At one point they were discussing the time they had in their lives for creative practice and were reflecting on whether they had reached their “peak” or not and it reminded me of the mountain again. Except the context here was mountain as a metaphor for your “life” journey.
“I don’t want to peak too early. The worry is that you never know until it’s all over whether you peaked at all – and then you’re finished and it’s too late.”
— Tom Courtenay
I recognize that it is a question I have been thinking about lately myself, and though I am trying to remain calm and curious, I feel things speeding up and worry building about whether I am “past my prime” or not. The quote above implies that somehow reaching the peak was the goal all along and then it’s all over or downhill from there. What if I “missed” the peak of this mountain just like I did on the hard climb up my personal mountain a couple years back? What does that mean is left for me in the future on the other side of life? I can check plenty of boxes that were on my list of a life well lived: Parented a child to adulthood, check. Had a successful and long career, check. Found a lasting and loving relationship, check. Own a home on a small patch of the world that is beautiful, check. Be a caring, kind and loving friend and family member, check. I don’t exactly feel bad if that is true, but what might that mean for the rest of my days?
What role does our time between mountains have in our life?
If we aren’t climbing a mountain, are we living fully?
Is life just a series of mountains and valleys?
How do we know if we are running toward the end goal or running away from the hard things in life?
Do we just get one time to “peak” in our life or is life a series of pinnacle moments?
I don’t know how to answer any of these questions quite yet, but contemplating this next phase in my life has helped put words to an unsettling space I have found myself in recently. I can say it’s not an entirely welcome place to be, yet it is familiar. It’s a place where I feel the pull of an internal vortex reach up to squeeze my heart and I can see darkness settling in, not unlike the night reclaiming the vivid colors of a summer day and draping everything in a fuzzy blackness where familiar shapes blur and begin to shift.
I have learned that this place, named Depression, has been pinned several times on the map where my travels have been traced thus far on my journey in life. I think the first time I visited was in my early teens. I’m guessing that my body has an internal GPS that is programmed to steer a course toward this place during times of transition in my life. It certainly isn’t a place I’d choose to visit intentionally, but somehow, no matter which direction I travel in, I end up driving through and staying for a while. For me, it’s a liminal space where it takes a while to get my bearings. It is scary when it gets dark; and sometimes it’s hard to find a safe space to wait for my night vision to develop; since it often comes as a surprise that I’m here again after so much time in the light. Though I am not sure how long this visit will be, I do know how to navigate better than I did when I was younger and I know I don’t have to travel alone; I’ve worked hard to build a network of folks who leave the light on for me as I go.
If this blog post resonated with you or you’d like to share your own metaphors for mountains and life, please visit me over on Instagram and send me a DM or reach out through e-mail found in the contact section of this site.
