annabee82's Journal

Last night I went to a nearby outdoorsy store that has a climbing cave for Climbing Divas(!) a free tutorial for women only. It was my first time, and on top of that I have fresh new-season blisters on my hands from rowing. The "bouldering" cave consisted of a cushy floor (for falling flat on your back, which I did, with gusto), rough river rock and cement walls, and starting about knee height various manufactured nobs and handholds up the wall and up across the ceiling. Our instructor started a game on the wall where she did one move, we all took turns mimicking it, then she added another, then another into the climbing sequence along the wall.

Of course, I did not manage so well skill-wise. There's so much to remember! Drop your but, straighten your arms, use your legs to "push the bush" as she put it. Ha! I found myself scrambling for purchase with my feet and losing my grip on the sweaty handhold. "You're a thinker," the instructor said. And I was; I'd hang for long seconds in one position trying to work out my next move and struggling to find purchase, losing momentum, losing courage; my options shrinking with each passing moment. "Just keep moving, put your feet where they need to go and don't think about it," she advised.

I'm a thinker, it's true. But more than that, I'm a ruminator. I often find myself hanging in one position that's not terribly comfortable in my own life, overcontemplating my next move, afraid to go forward and face the unknown. I worry too much about the consequences, the far reaching effects that will echo down my life. I use terms in my head like "never" and "only" and "last." I scare myself unnecessarily, and rationalize it by telling myself I'm being responsible by using forethought. I underestimate my ability to cope with what comes next, and end up in limbo, pressed to the wall, terrified to let go.