There is a frog sitting on a Lilly pad in an expansive pond… the frog doesn’t know how to swim. Desperately he just wants to get to shore. The route, areas misted in fog, is a maze of calculating which pad to jump to next, estimating if it will hold his weight, and is he even going the right way… has he just leaped himself deeper into the muck or making progress out?
I, hung up on “don’t care what” conversation, 11-15. Used example of not wanting to tell you about my gratitude homework; to stay angry and withhold. Not as angry now; and really DO want to tell you about my jar with the wood lid and the miniature carabiners…
In early 20s I learned top rope rock climbing in a UW Mini-Course held at Devil’s Lake, a favorite place. Next, I advanced to week course through Iowa Mountaineer Club. Liked best, call-and-response safety check before a climber starts. “On belay?” / “Belay on.” / “Climbing.” / “Climb on.” During course, instructor and climbers told me I had a natural ability: “I should seriously pursue the sport.”
I was strong, fit, skilled… doing something I loved.
Plans to go to Sawtooth’s, 10 days
Organizing gear, getting sick=doctor
I’m pregnant
At 8wk, hiked to the top of Elephant’s Perch
Skipped mountaineering & rock climbs
Carabiner not about climbing again. Theory: remember I was that person – strong, capable, naturally skilled, loved something deeply. Depression=that person is gone forever.
Obviously, this is super condensed version of the story.