I have a couple of friends who have asked me this question over the years. This is a hard one. Losing (or never finding to begin with) our passion often means we've lost our compass. Our internal compass that points the way to what is right and true for us.
Sometimes, we feel flat. Passionless, lost. Often times, we reach into the past, trying to recreate something that made us feel like we had promise. Sometimes, when we do that, we start living "in the glory days". All of our life in the present is focused on the fact that it was once good in the past and it will never be as good as it was.
Now, we are wishing. And wishing that something is other than it is is suffering.
This is also a trap for your will and your spirit. Looking up from the bottom of the well when things are not feeling so good is hard to do. Trusting that there is something out there for you, but you don't know what it is yet is VERY hard to do.
Our minds have an innate fear of the unknown. And if we find ourselves in a place where things are passionless, but familiar, we will tend to hang on to that feeling. Familiar, even when its unhealthy, feels safe.
The challenge here is to find your support group. Reaching out for help so you can have faith in yourself and in the future you will create is also hard. It means telling your closest friends, maybe only one or two of them, that you want to try something that is frightening to you. Maybe the thing you want to try is just admitting that you are unhappy. That can feel as scary as jumping off a cliff.
The thing that is beautiful is that there IS a path for you. That first step to health, the first step away from the flat, emotionless place is the hardest. Just in emailing me this question, my friend has taken that scary step.
Imagine you are standing on a grassy hill. There is a river below you. Across the river is your safe haven. A home, a place where people understand you, a place where a teacher will help you find your way. To get there, you have to cross a bridge. The bridge is made of glass. It looks like it is not there. The first step onto the bridge is going to be terrifying. Will it hold you? Can you stand on it? Are you crazy to even try? Once you take that step and you feel your feet underneath you, listen for the voices that are encouraging you on. Strain to hear them over everything in your mind that is telling you to turn back, this is unfamiliar and frightening.
Keep your gaze focused on what will really help you change your life, become who you want to become, healthier, happier, more YOU, more sure of yourself. Look across the bridge, not at your feet. Take another step. Eventually, you will know the bridge is there, and each step gets easier, as though there is sand sprinkled in the glass, and then some steel rods appear a little further on, eventually the bridge is wood and iron, sold and true. And then, you are on solid ground.
The reason we often get stuck in a flat, emotionless, passionless place is because something sad or traumatic has happened along the way. We begin to wish it hadn't happened. We see how things COULD have been, if only we had made a different choice, or not made a certain mistake, or been more patient, or loving, or giving. Or just a better person. We go down this spiral of self judgement that is so loud, and so full of blame, that it is paralyzing.
No wonder you can't find your passion. You've lost your sense of you. Your self worth. Step one: act compassionately toward yourself.
Do not judge.
Minimize harm.
Know that this will pass.
Say this out loud a couple of times. It is sound advice, and sound brain science from the folks who wrote "Wired for Joy" and run the Emotional Brain Training website. (Check it out, it is a powerful tool for change, based on the latest brain science.)
Step two: Find a friend or two that you trust and tell them you are trying to make a change.
Step three: Let go of needing to be in crisis and focus all of your energy on finding little places where you can make a positive choice. Make yourself a cup of tea. Turn off the television. Hug someone. Call your mom. Stand in the sun and feel the warmth on your skin. Hug your kid. Tiny things like this make cracks where joy can leak in.
Step four: Put yourself physically in places that inspire you. If you love the ocean but you are stuck at work, walk outside and stand by a fountain so you can hear the water. Let go of wishing you were at the beach and be appreciative of your love for water. Pay attention to what it is about the water that you love. Find gratitude for your connection.
Over time, you will find your feet, your compass will spin less violently, and you will be able to lift your head and notice, you may feel interested in something. This is the first step toward finding your passion.
I hope this helps!!
Much love,
Kate
If YOU have a question please ask it in the comments below! I'll do my best to answer it or find someone who can point you in the right direction. Thanks for reading!
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Sunday, January 29, 2012
The Luge Run of Death and other Whistler Adventures...
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| Marilyn Manso points to some options... |
I love to go out touring! It is the strangest experience, usually, we are in for a mixed bag of weird goods that you are not sure you will ski well because your legs are toast from walking up the mountain.
Its also the most wonderful way to make a new friend and see their home. Walking around together on your feet in the snow, you have the opportunity to chat, to listen, and to learn. Marilyn is incredibly adventurous, not to mention stunningly beautiful, and full of laughter, love and adventure. Her heart is huge, and I knew we were going to be friends the moment she tried to steal my wineglass about five minutes after I met her.
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| Marilyn skiing out, our first break from the ice! |
We had a chance to chat about the fact that secretly, neither of us really wanted to go out in this weather. I thought it was hilarious that we both showed up, geared up, ready to go, but we had both been thinking, man, the weather is going to suck! I thought hmm, my feet might freeze, I might not be fit enough, my boots might be too heavy... But I had given my word, because if I had the chance to tour in Whistler, and make a new friend who liked to tour, I was not going to pass it up.
Marilyn showed up for the same reason. She had made a commitment because she knew it would make her show up. That way she knew she would have an adventure when she would otherwise stay inside.
Marilyn showed up for the same reason. She had made a commitment because she knew it would make her show up. That way she knew she would have an adventure when she would otherwise stay inside.
Turns out that the skin up was cold with super low visibility, but as soon as we were out the gate and rolling down the slope, it was warm, with good light and light fluffy snow. It's always worth it, somehow.
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| Peak to Peak above us as we ski out of Singing Pass |
Speaking of Strafe, it's by far the best touring gear I've ever been in, huge vents, lots of great pockets in smart places, totally water tight, cut well for good layering, lots of options, the pants are bibs, you can snap the coat to the waist, the powder skirt zips out... it performed well in rain, sleet, powder, touring and skiing off the cat. Yup, I'm sold.
It was so cold we ended up going in for a coffee and visiting before heading out into the wild blue yonder, which was very civilized and not at all what I'm used to. (Thinking back to 4am starts and trying to dial my system so that I'm not slow changing over, or eating, or skinning...)
We headed up the chair and went out the avalanche gate at Symphony onto the Flute side, after a short 40 minute skin or so, we found what Marilyn was looking for ("My kid told me to look for the dead tree, the snow is supposed to be great".)
We traversed across and found a nice long shot with just one track in it, and away we went. These were the first turns I'd made on these skis, and the powder was mid thigh deep. I was wondering what my turns would be like, I haven't done much touring in the winter, most of my touring is done in the spring and summer, so the snow is usually variable, wind slab, sun cupped, corn, refrozen avy debris; in short weird snow that changes every two turns. You know, all that good stuff.
It was unreal to get out there and see this long, fairly steep shot just full of joy waiting for me. Marilyn pinted the way and said, "Go for it."
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| One of my favorite pass times in Whistler... |
As usual, I learned a lot: a new way to apply the G3 skins, a great way to pull them off in the wind, and a recipe for the best pick me up on a cold day I've ever had. (Ginger tea, brewed with lemon, add a shot of Contreau, drink on the summit. Yum!)
Marilyn asked me if I wanted another 20 minute skin back into bounds, or a 45 minute downhill adventure in an icy bobsled luge run. That sounded a lot like every other end of the day where you have to ski back out on the hiking trail, so I opted for the luge run.
Now, I had heard stories about Singing Pass from Brian Campbell, the master bootfitter at TopShelf Bootfitting in Whistler. Over a glass of scotch or three, he had told me some great stories about coming back in from Cowboy Ridge.
"Make sure you go with someone who knows it well, because there are two or three hairpin turns, and if you aren't ready for them, wow. Away you go, eh?" Right. But, you know, people often exaggerate stuff like that. How bad could it be?
"Make sure you go with someone who knows it well, because there are two or three hairpin turns, and if you aren't ready for them, wow. Away you go, eh?" Right. But, you know, people often exaggerate stuff like that. How bad could it be?
Answer: probably one of the most terrifying things I've ever done. Wow was I glad for the tiny bit of canting we had done on my boots the day before, I needed every single little bit of help I could get not to lose my edge and end up shooting off this 900 foot cliff into the huge trees below.
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| This is the "good"snow, and it was still bulletproof! |
It was a great opportunity to practice mental performance, as the consequences of a mistake were huge. Giving into fear would only cause the mistake to happen, trying to slow down on ice would only over edge the ski and make it slide out from under me.
It reminded me of slipping the World Cup Course. Don't try to shed speed, just let the skis go and try to stay with them. No big deal when you are sliding down the fall line going straight. Kind of a big deal when you are turning left on something that's falling away from you, with nothing to help you deflect the ski back on to the tiny little track. It was an exercise in staying focused, present, and confident that I could do this, was doing it right, and that the consequences for not doing it right were so severe that there wasn't another option.
I had expected the "luge run" to be sort of cupped, as most hiking trails are, but this was just a slant for most of the way, mountain to your left, sloping trail, cliff with treetops to your right.
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| One of a hand full of creek crossings |
"How are you doing this and not messing up? Oh! Shit! If I mess up, I'm going off the cliff! I wish I could stop or slow down, I'm afraid that the next turn will be where I make the mistake!"
And there in lies the problem, now I'm thinking about what might happen, how bad it CAN be if I do mess it up on the next turn. How can I be aware of the stakes and making the decision to do something RIGHT without letting that understanding make me defensive? I tried to be diagnostic. "How do you ski ice? (That's only two feet wide, sloping toward a cliff, and constantly turning left...)" Answer: Pro actively and without trying to stop. You will function with conviction and hope you guess right.
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| Happy to be exploring! |
In that place, I found a kindred spirit. She was so present, willing to be right where she was and willing to work hard to do what needed to be done in this moment, and then in the next, that we spent what could have been a scary and dangerous afternoon full of fear, playing and smiling and talking while we managed the risks at hand.
Visiting BC was so wonderful this way. Almost everyone that I met was incredibly welcoming, authentic, and happy to share their world with me. Once again, I felt every moment, so lucky to be connecting and seeing the world in another new way.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
On Fear, Choice, and Community
Okay, here's the truth. I haven't been writing much lately, not because I don't have a lot to write about, but because I'm not sure what to put up here! As I get closer to the selection process, I feel like I should share less, just in case someone finds a wart on my nose or something...
But isn't that silly? I mean, the whole point of this was to really share what the PROCESS of heading to the tryout was like, to sort of look at it from a journalistic standpoint.
So, part of the process is that over time, you realize that you are kind of in a job interview all the time. And that everything you post, to a blog, to Facebook, to Twitter, is part of that interview. Our employers have so much more access to our "non-work" faces now than they ever did.
But I like transparency. I mean, we are all people. We all go through tough stuff. And I hope that being authentic and true and really going through this self and life examination process, and being willing to do it in a way that is NOT whitewashed, but real, is helpful for others to know that they don't have to be perfect to persue their dreams.
Martha Stewart, while she has a great banana bread recipe, is not real life. Real life is messy, and that is part of its beauty.
Its true that over the years, I've learned that some things, while interesting to write about and really difficult and scary (and therefore interesting to share; facing that moment and choosing to be honest forces a deeper introspection and more careful decision making) aren't really appropriate to share while I'm on this path. This was the irony of this choice. Part of the decision making here (and it was one of the tougher decisions) was chosing whether to stay true to the intention of the blog and share all, or to stay true to the path and begin to edit.
It took some long walks with some smart people to make the choice. So far, in every instance, over time, the path has won.
I wrote a lot about my personal relationships over the years, because my decision to go down this road affects them. I really wanted other people who were trying to examine their lives to know that they aren't alone in that issue; going to grad school puts stress on the other parent. Training for the Olympics puts stress on everyone around you because you live that training as your job 24/7 for years. This feels similar to both, but there had to be some balance that felt honest to the path, but in service of my family, who I love, and whom, without, this would all really be pointless.
I was curious about what would happen, to me, to my kids, to my romantic relationships, to my family in general. How would changing careers and then dedicating myself completely to becoming a viable candidate affect my life and my relationships? Would it be worth it? Would I find a choice that would take me off the path?
I think this was really the thing that has helped me most in my personal growth along the way, looking carefully at those decisions. And you guys have been there when I've asked "at what cost?".
When I first started this, I didn't think there really would be a large personal cost. I assumed that I'd be able to balance it all, kids, working out, skiing, relationships. After all, we had kids when we owned the rock climbing gym, and it was fine. But our paths were the same then, and we were more well financed.
Looking back over the last six years, this journey has forced me to examine my wants and desires, my personal accountability, my integrity, my will, my love and make choices all the way. And I got tired of learning lessons and making choices. I wanted sometimes to have learned the lesson and be done. But another beautiful nugget I get to take away from this journey is that really, that never stops.
It doesn't matter if you reach the goal or not. The lessons, the choices, the difficulties don't stop just because you reach your career goal. The more you listen, the more opportunities for growth are presenting them in every choice you make, every day.
And leaning into that, accepting it, welcoming it, is part of the gift. Its like that annoying friend who always speaks her mind. You can either stop being friends, or be grateful for the honesty and get something out of it. Make a positive change for good. When you live with that annoying friend, and you are tapped on the shoulder all day long, it gets tiring. But if you want to strive for excellence, shouldn't you want to be excellent in your person first, and in your career second?
This journey has seen the loss of my marriage, and then has aided us coming back together as supportive friends co parents and even housemates. Having talked extensively since Tom moved here in July, we have realized that our paths, our decisions, were the best, healthiest, and hardest things we ever did. We are better people, better parents, and better friends for what we went through. Turns out we made good decisions. I do think there is more than one right decision at most turning points. But making the hard, best decision you can make is the point.
This journey saw the uprooting of my kids, my mother quitting her life for a year to help out, near total poverty, the collapse of another relationship, the total destruction of my truck, spine surgery...
So many times, I have called my mentors, who have been in this game longer, are waaaayyyy wiser than I, in tears, asking, "Am I insane? I mean, do I really have a shot at doing this? Am I ruining my life and the life of everyone around me? Or am I creating a better life for myself and my kids because I'm being true to myself?"
This is why, I think, we need to have a really good, personal motivation that comes from a really true place, and a group of people you trust to help you out. When things got confusing, and they did, many times along the way, I needed a guiding light out of that cloud of confusion.
Because this journey has given me a life that is more beautiful and true than any one I could have dreamed up. It has led me to Aspen, to a group of people that feel like family. It has given me hope, and joy, and friendships that are so deep. It has challenged me to be more, to be better. It pokes at my deepest fears and begs me to let go of them. It has given my kids freedom and joy to grown and expand and learn in a way I never thought possible.
In the end, you have to make a choice. I think lots of times we miss opportunity for happiness or growth because we are afraid that growth will be uncomfortable to other people in our lives. So we chose familiarity over integrity to our souls.
And while we absolutely need to take the people in our lives into consideration, and make these choices with them, and in consideration of them, we also have to be true to ourselves. Sometimes, we have to be brave and make the hard choice.
Sometimes I wasn't sure if the hard choice was leaving the path that was shaping me, or continuing along it.
During these six years, that balance, holding that polarity, has been the biggest, hardest challenge of all. And as the tryout has gotten closer and closer, I have needed more and more from my family and support group. This is really not something you can do by yourself.
I needed help with my kids, financial support, guidance in my career choices, guidance in how to share on this blog, I needed resources, teaching, history, technical, eyes on the hill. Encouragement to run and lift and cycle and work. I needed to learn when to let go of the goal because I needed to balance family in a way that is nurturing for them, wow, I needed A LOT. (and I got one, Aunt A Lot came back from Argentina, and hugged me and said, GO KATE GO!)
Friday at 5pm was the deadline for uploading applications for consideration for the National Team Selection.
Thursday and Friday, I felt like I was being held inside a giant warm down sleeping bag of friendship. My mom was calling and texting and telling me how proud she was of me for making it this far. My sister was finishing 15 days of brutal boot packing, and she still called and offered her support. My ex husband was reading and editing my material and taking care of our kids. I re shot my video four times in the last week. This took the time and resources of four incredibly dedicated, giving people who went out of their way to help.
This wasn't due to a lack of planning, but due to a desire to really represent accurately myself to the selectors, and what I might bring should they chose to invite me.
And these people, my friends and supporters did it with such ease and grace, that I had to take the lesson about giving. I learned a lot about rallying around someone you care about and helping them achieve their dream from the people who came to my aid.
The video was reshot because one of my support group said, "Its not you. Reshoot it." I agonized over this. I had already had such support from so many, I was loathe to go back and say, "Hey, I need to do it again."
I faced that question again. In service of doing this right, really giving the best that I could, after training for six years and spending every single penny I had or made, moving my family, could I really ask for more? After leaning so hard on them through surgery, through so much...
The answer had to be yes. I respectfully requested help. Again. And here they came. Gladly. I felt lifted up, and we got it done. If I had a gazillion bucks, I'd throw the worlds greatest party for the people who have carried me here. I hope to hell I can carry many many more on their journeys. It is an amazing thing to have your team of friends rally around you.
It came down to the wire (and I'll share that story shortly), literally to 5:00pm on the day of the deadline. But it all went up, and we all looked at each other laughing. It was over. It was up. It was in. I had actually applied for consideration for the team in 2012. But it turns out that I hadn't. We had. We did it together.
And I hope they call me in February and I get to go to the tryout. But right now, I feel like I've already met my goal. I got here. Looking back at the choices, the stresses on family and relationships, I'm grateful for the choices I made. The good and the bad. Each one taught me a lesson in balance, respect, perseverance. I learned to stand on my own to feet. I learned that I'm stronger than I thought. I learned that no one can do it alone, no matter how much they want to. I learned that its not about me at all. Its about all of us.
We are all connected, as so many before me have said. Our journeys are all the same, I think, we are all just trying to live the fullest, most fulfilling, most connected life that we can.
So in the end, I'm glad I stayed on my path. The life before me is the life I love, and I'm grateful that my kids watched me fight for it. Today, we all skied Buttermilk together on opening day. I felt like it was the culmination of six years of hard work. Yesterday, I taught my first sanctioned on snow clinic at Snowmass, my dream job.
And then, the next day, seeing my kids and their dad and aunt ripping around smiling just five minutes from our house with one clinic behind me and another one coming up tomorrow, I thought, we did it. We all did it. Together. And each of us is happier for the fight that got us here.
So to my readers, who helped me through some of those hard times over the years, thank you. Thanks for being real, honest, for having my back and pushing me hard. Thanks for holding my feet to the fire and asking me to write even when it was hard to come back.
You have been the thing that kept this train on the tracks, more than I could ever tell you.
With deep gratitude,
Kate
But isn't that silly? I mean, the whole point of this was to really share what the PROCESS of heading to the tryout was like, to sort of look at it from a journalistic standpoint.
So, part of the process is that over time, you realize that you are kind of in a job interview all the time. And that everything you post, to a blog, to Facebook, to Twitter, is part of that interview. Our employers have so much more access to our "non-work" faces now than they ever did.
 |
| Ethan and I explore Tiehack Terrain on opening day at Buttermilk |
Martha Stewart, while she has a great banana bread recipe, is not real life. Real life is messy, and that is part of its beauty.
Its true that over the years, I've learned that some things, while interesting to write about and really difficult and scary (and therefore interesting to share; facing that moment and choosing to be honest forces a deeper introspection and more careful decision making) aren't really appropriate to share while I'm on this path. This was the irony of this choice. Part of the decision making here (and it was one of the tougher decisions) was chosing whether to stay true to the intention of the blog and share all, or to stay true to the path and begin to edit.
It took some long walks with some smart people to make the choice. So far, in every instance, over time, the path has won.
I wrote a lot about my personal relationships over the years, because my decision to go down this road affects them. I really wanted other people who were trying to examine their lives to know that they aren't alone in that issue; going to grad school puts stress on the other parent. Training for the Olympics puts stress on everyone around you because you live that training as your job 24/7 for years. This feels similar to both, but there had to be some balance that felt honest to the path, but in service of my family, who I love, and whom, without, this would all really be pointless.
I was curious about what would happen, to me, to my kids, to my romantic relationships, to my family in general. How would changing careers and then dedicating myself completely to becoming a viable candidate affect my life and my relationships? Would it be worth it? Would I find a choice that would take me off the path?
I think this was really the thing that has helped me most in my personal growth along the way, looking carefully at those decisions. And you guys have been there when I've asked "at what cost?".
When I first started this, I didn't think there really would be a large personal cost. I assumed that I'd be able to balance it all, kids, working out, skiing, relationships. After all, we had kids when we owned the rock climbing gym, and it was fine. But our paths were the same then, and we were more well financed.
Looking back over the last six years, this journey has forced me to examine my wants and desires, my personal accountability, my integrity, my will, my love and make choices all the way. And I got tired of learning lessons and making choices. I wanted sometimes to have learned the lesson and be done. But another beautiful nugget I get to take away from this journey is that really, that never stops.
It doesn't matter if you reach the goal or not. The lessons, the choices, the difficulties don't stop just because you reach your career goal. The more you listen, the more opportunities for growth are presenting them in every choice you make, every day.
And leaning into that, accepting it, welcoming it, is part of the gift. Its like that annoying friend who always speaks her mind. You can either stop being friends, or be grateful for the honesty and get something out of it. Make a positive change for good. When you live with that annoying friend, and you are tapped on the shoulder all day long, it gets tiring. But if you want to strive for excellence, shouldn't you want to be excellent in your person first, and in your career second?
This journey has seen the loss of my marriage, and then has aided us coming back together as supportive friends co parents and even housemates. Having talked extensively since Tom moved here in July, we have realized that our paths, our decisions, were the best, healthiest, and hardest things we ever did. We are better people, better parents, and better friends for what we went through. Turns out we made good decisions. I do think there is more than one right decision at most turning points. But making the hard, best decision you can make is the point.
This journey saw the uprooting of my kids, my mother quitting her life for a year to help out, near total poverty, the collapse of another relationship, the total destruction of my truck, spine surgery...
So many times, I have called my mentors, who have been in this game longer, are waaaayyyy wiser than I, in tears, asking, "Am I insane? I mean, do I really have a shot at doing this? Am I ruining my life and the life of everyone around me? Or am I creating a better life for myself and my kids because I'm being true to myself?"
This is why, I think, we need to have a really good, personal motivation that comes from a really true place, and a group of people you trust to help you out. When things got confusing, and they did, many times along the way, I needed a guiding light out of that cloud of confusion.
 |
| Bodhi, stoic, ready to drop in. |
In the end, you have to make a choice. I think lots of times we miss opportunity for happiness or growth because we are afraid that growth will be uncomfortable to other people in our lives. So we chose familiarity over integrity to our souls.
And while we absolutely need to take the people in our lives into consideration, and make these choices with them, and in consideration of them, we also have to be true to ourselves. Sometimes, we have to be brave and make the hard choice.
Sometimes I wasn't sure if the hard choice was leaving the path that was shaping me, or continuing along it.
During these six years, that balance, holding that polarity, has been the biggest, hardest challenge of all. And as the tryout has gotten closer and closer, I have needed more and more from my family and support group. This is really not something you can do by yourself.
I needed help with my kids, financial support, guidance in my career choices, guidance in how to share on this blog, I needed resources, teaching, history, technical, eyes on the hill. Encouragement to run and lift and cycle and work. I needed to learn when to let go of the goal because I needed to balance family in a way that is nurturing for them, wow, I needed A LOT. (and I got one, Aunt A Lot came back from Argentina, and hugged me and said, GO KATE GO!)
Friday at 5pm was the deadline for uploading applications for consideration for the National Team Selection.
Thursday and Friday, I felt like I was being held inside a giant warm down sleeping bag of friendship. My mom was calling and texting and telling me how proud she was of me for making it this far. My sister was finishing 15 days of brutal boot packing, and she still called and offered her support. My ex husband was reading and editing my material and taking care of our kids. I re shot my video four times in the last week. This took the time and resources of four incredibly dedicated, giving people who went out of their way to help.
This wasn't due to a lack of planning, but due to a desire to really represent accurately myself to the selectors, and what I might bring should they chose to invite me.
And these people, my friends and supporters did it with such ease and grace, that I had to take the lesson about giving. I learned a lot about rallying around someone you care about and helping them achieve their dream from the people who came to my aid.
The video was reshot because one of my support group said, "Its not you. Reshoot it." I agonized over this. I had already had such support from so many, I was loathe to go back and say, "Hey, I need to do it again."
I faced that question again. In service of doing this right, really giving the best that I could, after training for six years and spending every single penny I had or made, moving my family, could I really ask for more? After leaning so hard on them through surgery, through so much...
The answer had to be yes. I respectfully requested help. Again. And here they came. Gladly. I felt lifted up, and we got it done. If I had a gazillion bucks, I'd throw the worlds greatest party for the people who have carried me here. I hope to hell I can carry many many more on their journeys. It is an amazing thing to have your team of friends rally around you.
 |
| Bodhi and Dad sharing the dream. |
And I hope they call me in February and I get to go to the tryout. But right now, I feel like I've already met my goal. I got here. Looking back at the choices, the stresses on family and relationships, I'm grateful for the choices I made. The good and the bad. Each one taught me a lesson in balance, respect, perseverance. I learned to stand on my own to feet. I learned that I'm stronger than I thought. I learned that no one can do it alone, no matter how much they want to. I learned that its not about me at all. Its about all of us.
We are all connected, as so many before me have said. Our journeys are all the same, I think, we are all just trying to live the fullest, most fulfilling, most connected life that we can.
So in the end, I'm glad I stayed on my path. The life before me is the life I love, and I'm grateful that my kids watched me fight for it. Today, we all skied Buttermilk together on opening day. I felt like it was the culmination of six years of hard work. Yesterday, I taught my first sanctioned on snow clinic at Snowmass, my dream job.
And then, the next day, seeing my kids and their dad and aunt ripping around smiling just five minutes from our house with one clinic behind me and another one coming up tomorrow, I thought, we did it. We all did it. Together. And each of us is happier for the fight that got us here.
So to my readers, who helped me through some of those hard times over the years, thank you. Thanks for being real, honest, for having my back and pushing me hard. Thanks for holding my feet to the fire and asking me to write even when it was hard to come back.
You have been the thing that kept this train on the tracks, more than I could ever tell you.
With deep gratitude,
Kate
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Who installed the decision making software in YOUR brain?
A friend and I went for a walk today along the Rio Grande trail in Aspen. It was a lovely walk, and as usual, we fell into conversation that eventually wound around to talking about life, our goals, our happiness, our plans.
While we were talking, we started to talk about how much it costs to be a ski instructor. There are dues, clinic fees, exam fees, tryout fees, travel fees, she spends thousands of dollars a year in training.
I mentioned to my friend that at that moment, there is a decision process here. At some point, you have to decide if what it costs to apply for this job is worth interviewing for the job. If at some point the cost outweighs your desire to interview, then you are right, its not worth it. If you still want to interview even though it costs a prohibitive amount of money, you will find a way to find the money and get there.
It reminded me about the post I wrote about boundaries. At some point, even though you THINK you want to be involved in something, you may even feel SURE you want to be involved in it, there may come a time when you realize you have reached a boundary, one you thought was further out than it is.
It is smart, it is important, it is wise to be aware of these boundaries and to listen to them. If we don't listen, we tend to loose our sense of self preservation and just push through, sometimes right off the edge of a cliff. You saw the sign, you ignored it, you pushed through anyway, and the consequences are dire.
Sometimes, its important to look very carefully at those boundaries. Why are they there? Who put them there? Are you sure that obeying that boundary is in your best interest, or are you doing what society tell you is normal and right to do?
My friend asked me, "Kate, do you have any boundaries like this? Because it doesn't seem like you do."
Here is what I told her.
I am absolutely dedicated to the pursuit of becoming. My goal in my life is to perform to my potential as a human. To become who I might become, to remove impediments on the path to becoming.
Skiing is an avenue that I'm walking down while I'm becoming, but it could have been anything, it could have been fly fishing or painting, or under water basket weaving. I am very careful about looking at the boundaries I bump up against and checking to see why they are there. Am I not doing something because of fear? And if so, why is that fear there? Is this fear something I need to confront and move through? Or is this fear an indicator I should listen to?
Seven years ago, I did the scariest thing I think I will ever do in my life. Seven years ago, I faced a boundary of fear that I had shied away from dozens of times when I was growing up.
My stepfather was an incredibly frightening, abusive man. He terrorized my two sisters and I for twenty six years. During those years of abuse, I learned a lot of ways to keep myself safe. When I couldn't keep my body safe, I left my body and kept my mind safe. Our minds are amazing at coping, at creating little work arounds.
Seven years ago, when I was pregnant with Bodhi, I made the decision to confront him. To take the abuse we were all living with and make it public. This was scary for a couple of reasons; I wasn't sure what he was going to do. He has a violent and unpredictable temper, I had learned early not to provoke it if I could help it. I was afraid that I was going to lose my mother. I was afraid that she wouldn't believe me, or that if she did, she wouldn't be strong enough to leave him.
I had to decide that those choices were hers, I could not affect anything or anyone other than myself, and I knew I could not let this abuse continue. The tragedy of abuse is that it is a silent cycle of power. Because of fear and shame, its always kept under the rug, and the silence is complacency, which fuels space for the abuser to continue. Eventually, victims become abusers, or marry abusers, and their kids suffer the same fate.
Pregnant with Bodhi, Ethan not yet two years old, I knew it had to stop now. Sexual abuse is about power, not about gender. And I knew that no matter what the cost, I had to protect my kids from him. I would not allow them to become victims, I would not hobble their potential as people because I was to afraid to tell someone in my life that he could not touch me that way. That my body was my body. I could not fail my children that way.
I lived with fear for several weeks after I made the decision to confront him. I had to tell myself that it was appropriate that I feel fear, because this was a scary situation. When the day finally came and I drove with my husband to the therapist's office where my step father was going to be, I was more afraid than I have ever been. But I also knew that feeling that fear did not mean that this was something I should not do. It meant that this was a scary thing to do. In fact, the scarier it felt in my core, the more I knew I needed to do it, because I knew that fear that I felt was his, not mine. It was something I was taught to feel about him, by him. And I didn't want to be ruled by it any more, and I never wanted my kids to feel it.
After I went through that experience, I embarked on a mission to see what other things I felt fear about because of him. What decisions was I making based on lessons taught by this controlling, fear filled, abusive man?
At first, I went after them like a rabid detective. I wanted him out of me in every way. I wanted to be rid of him through to my soul. Of course, that is an impossible exorcism, I have lots of things in me that I learned from him that are good. I have a strong work ethic because of him. I can control my fear because of him, I can tolerate pain because of him, I can pitch a business plan because of him. I learned that there are no excuses and responsibility ALWAYS rests on me because of him. I learned to take responsibility, face the music, and walk towards the thing that scares me because of him.
But I had an unhealthy will to win because of him. I had a sabotaging tendency because of him. I believed I was horribly ugly because of him, I did not believe in myself because of him. I believed I could never be good enough, that I was unlovable and born to fail because of him. I hated myself because of him.
You can see that it is easy to say Because of Him. Its easy to fall into the role, to say, ah, I had a hard childhood, and because of that, someone owes me something. Someone else needs to love me the way that he should have. Someone else needs to take care of me to heal this wound.
Believing that is part of being swallowed by your past. It is another excuse, it is playing into your abusers hand, it is your abuser continuing to dictate your life, how it unfolds and what your potential is.
As I discovered that, I got angry. I didn't want even passive decision making by him in my head. And so, rather than placing blame, and becoming a victim of having been a victim, I got to work. For a while after you go through something like a confrontation with a person who is abusive, your abuse defines you. Its hard not to talk about it all the time. Its hard not to see everything through the lens of either the abuse or your struggle to survive. But with time and patience and practice, your abuse, your relationship with the person who abused you (and by this, I mean the way you think of them in your life and how much control they still have over you), fades and changes.
My abuse I see as a fact, like I have blond hair (well, now I'm getting Grey hair, but don't tell anyone.) When it seems apropos, I bring it up, because becoming silent about it again gives it power again. And so its a thing that happened in my life. I'm not angry about it any more. I don't hate my step father. I understand that he became who he is becuse he did NOT break this cycle in his own life. Someone obviously hurt him badly. He is a picture of what I could become. He is a picture of what happens when you let your coping and your abusers fear dictate the decisions you make in your life. When you don't do the work to ferret out root impetus, motivation, when you aren't willing to, for lack of a better word, look at your shit, you run the risk of becoming a person like this. A person driven to do things with no logical purpose, a person driven by passion and fear, a person running on the auto pilot installed by their abuser, and having no idea that its happening.
I don't worry or obsess about the abuse in my life. But it certainly was a powerful factor that shaped my life significantly, and continues to do so, because it drives me to become who I would have been, and who I can be now, had he never come in contact with me, and in spite of the fact that he did.
I bring it up here, because I answered my friend's question with a bit of that history, and then I told her; after I did the scariest thing I've ever done in my life, I wanted to be certain that any boundaries I felt were boundaries or rules that I agrees with. That were there for healthy reasons. I didn't just not want to abide by abstract rules of conduct installed by my step father, or all the coping I had learned to survive, but I didn't' want to abide by rules imposed by other people's fears in general.
Its like living in a pen or a corral and bumping up against the wall, and saying, oh, I shouldn't go out there. Well, why not? Because there is a fence here. Well, why is the fence here? Who put it there? Who says outside the fence is bad? Who is telling you to stay inside, and what is their motivation?
For years, my mother cut the end off of a ham before she cooked it. I always assumed that she cut it off for a reason, that had to do with basting or juices, I assumed that this is how you cook a ham. One day, I found out that she cut the end off the ham because that's how her mother had always done it. And then I found out that her mother cut the end off the ham because the ham wouldn't fit in their baking dish. There's no reason for me to do it. There's no reason for my mom to do it.
People live their lives trapped by convention and tradition, not that those things are bad, but have you examined why they are there? Just because its always been done that way, or it hasn't been done yet doesn't mean its not worth doing differently or its not worth trying to do!
What I told my friend was that I am just not willing, ever again, to look at a boundary that I bump into and blindly follow it. I look to make sure that I am not endangering myself, my kids, my family, I look to see what the risk is, what the possible result could be, and then, more often than not, I remove my fear and give it a try.
I realized, after I broke free of 26 years of fear and dictatorial rule by a deeply disturbed man that most of us walk around afraid of change, because the unknown is truly frightening. What would happen if I told the truth? Would my world fall apart? Would I loose my mother? Would I get beaten, or killed? Would my children get taken away? What about my PTSD? Would it get so bad that I would have to be hospitalized? Would I lose my kids because of that? Could I survive this?
The answer, quite simply, is yes. You can survive. There is life on the other side. Life on the other side not only of abuse, but of being broke, of being divorced, of being depressed, of being overweight. There is the life you choose to make. It is a life lived not carelessly, but in spite of fear. It is a life that you deserve, the life that we all deserve.
My friend asked me that question, because it costs a lot of money to walk down this path, that of trying out for the National Alpine Team, and there is very little chance that anyone will make it. But I'm not doing it for the paycheck. I could care less. There is a very nice tee pee here on T Lazy 7 that we can live in very cheap, and my kids like camping. We will be just fine.
Thats not to say I'm going to put us into financial ruin in pursuit of my goals, (you can't be a whole lot more broke than we are right now), but that I'm not afraid of it. because I know there is work out there. I know there is money to be made. I know my kids don't need TV or toys, they have the rivers and the horses and the mountains and the slack line and the other kids on the ranch to play with.
I know that making the safe choice, the choice with the predictable end is a choice that feels akin to death to me.
Now, when I face problems like, I want to go to Portillo this summer, but I don't have enough money, and if I do raise the money, are all my bills paid before I go, and who am I taxing in order to take this chance, an investment in my new path, trusting it will pay off later in things to write about, in relationships built, in training of my feet, in expansion of my understanding of history of the ski world? I think to myself, this is not a boundary that is going to hold me back.
This is an opportunity to work hard to make it happen. And it will either materialize, or it won't. Most of the time, if it does materialize, its not till the very last second, because I'm not in a place in my life where I can book things six months in advance, there is just too much uncertainty about whether it is safe to do it. That's me listening to a boundary. Until I know that I've met my responsibilities to my kids and my mom, who takes amazing care of all of us, I can't make a commitment like that. This drives people crazy, including me, and is something that I am working on changing, by working on increasing our bank account, and looking for creative ways to reduce costs, like getting an article approved ahead of time, and an expense account to help pay for a trip.
Whistler. Hood. Portillo. St. Anton, Italy (where I hope to find Stephano DeBenedetti and interview him, or have coffee with him, or go for a hike with him...). These are opportunities that could change my life. These are things that scare my friend because they are big choices in a life on a financial tightrope. But oh, if I can go. And OH! If I could take Ethan to Hood and take my mom and my kids to St. Anton for Interski... what an incredible journey it would be.
I choose to keep dreaming and to look at the thing that scares me, whether its a person, a thought, a steep pitch, or telling the truth to a friend, and walk right at it. Because I have a lot of becoming still to do.
While we were talking, we started to talk about how much it costs to be a ski instructor. There are dues, clinic fees, exam fees, tryout fees, travel fees, she spends thousands of dollars a year in training.
I mentioned to my friend that at that moment, there is a decision process here. At some point, you have to decide if what it costs to apply for this job is worth interviewing for the job. If at some point the cost outweighs your desire to interview, then you are right, its not worth it. If you still want to interview even though it costs a prohibitive amount of money, you will find a way to find the money and get there.
It reminded me about the post I wrote about boundaries. At some point, even though you THINK you want to be involved in something, you may even feel SURE you want to be involved in it, there may come a time when you realize you have reached a boundary, one you thought was further out than it is.
It is smart, it is important, it is wise to be aware of these boundaries and to listen to them. If we don't listen, we tend to loose our sense of self preservation and just push through, sometimes right off the edge of a cliff. You saw the sign, you ignored it, you pushed through anyway, and the consequences are dire.
Sometimes, its important to look very carefully at those boundaries. Why are they there? Who put them there? Are you sure that obeying that boundary is in your best interest, or are you doing what society tell you is normal and right to do?
My friend asked me, "Kate, do you have any boundaries like this? Because it doesn't seem like you do."
Here is what I told her.
I am absolutely dedicated to the pursuit of becoming. My goal in my life is to perform to my potential as a human. To become who I might become, to remove impediments on the path to becoming.
Skiing is an avenue that I'm walking down while I'm becoming, but it could have been anything, it could have been fly fishing or painting, or under water basket weaving. I am very careful about looking at the boundaries I bump up against and checking to see why they are there. Am I not doing something because of fear? And if so, why is that fear there? Is this fear something I need to confront and move through? Or is this fear an indicator I should listen to?
Seven years ago, I did the scariest thing I think I will ever do in my life. Seven years ago, I faced a boundary of fear that I had shied away from dozens of times when I was growing up.
My stepfather was an incredibly frightening, abusive man. He terrorized my two sisters and I for twenty six years. During those years of abuse, I learned a lot of ways to keep myself safe. When I couldn't keep my body safe, I left my body and kept my mind safe. Our minds are amazing at coping, at creating little work arounds.
Seven years ago, when I was pregnant with Bodhi, I made the decision to confront him. To take the abuse we were all living with and make it public. This was scary for a couple of reasons; I wasn't sure what he was going to do. He has a violent and unpredictable temper, I had learned early not to provoke it if I could help it. I was afraid that I was going to lose my mother. I was afraid that she wouldn't believe me, or that if she did, she wouldn't be strong enough to leave him.
I had to decide that those choices were hers, I could not affect anything or anyone other than myself, and I knew I could not let this abuse continue. The tragedy of abuse is that it is a silent cycle of power. Because of fear and shame, its always kept under the rug, and the silence is complacency, which fuels space for the abuser to continue. Eventually, victims become abusers, or marry abusers, and their kids suffer the same fate.
Pregnant with Bodhi, Ethan not yet two years old, I knew it had to stop now. Sexual abuse is about power, not about gender. And I knew that no matter what the cost, I had to protect my kids from him. I would not allow them to become victims, I would not hobble their potential as people because I was to afraid to tell someone in my life that he could not touch me that way. That my body was my body. I could not fail my children that way.
I lived with fear for several weeks after I made the decision to confront him. I had to tell myself that it was appropriate that I feel fear, because this was a scary situation. When the day finally came and I drove with my husband to the therapist's office where my step father was going to be, I was more afraid than I have ever been. But I also knew that feeling that fear did not mean that this was something I should not do. It meant that this was a scary thing to do. In fact, the scarier it felt in my core, the more I knew I needed to do it, because I knew that fear that I felt was his, not mine. It was something I was taught to feel about him, by him. And I didn't want to be ruled by it any more, and I never wanted my kids to feel it.
After I went through that experience, I embarked on a mission to see what other things I felt fear about because of him. What decisions was I making based on lessons taught by this controlling, fear filled, abusive man?
At first, I went after them like a rabid detective. I wanted him out of me in every way. I wanted to be rid of him through to my soul. Of course, that is an impossible exorcism, I have lots of things in me that I learned from him that are good. I have a strong work ethic because of him. I can control my fear because of him, I can tolerate pain because of him, I can pitch a business plan because of him. I learned that there are no excuses and responsibility ALWAYS rests on me because of him. I learned to take responsibility, face the music, and walk towards the thing that scares me because of him.
But I had an unhealthy will to win because of him. I had a sabotaging tendency because of him. I believed I was horribly ugly because of him, I did not believe in myself because of him. I believed I could never be good enough, that I was unlovable and born to fail because of him. I hated myself because of him.
You can see that it is easy to say Because of Him. Its easy to fall into the role, to say, ah, I had a hard childhood, and because of that, someone owes me something. Someone else needs to love me the way that he should have. Someone else needs to take care of me to heal this wound.
Believing that is part of being swallowed by your past. It is another excuse, it is playing into your abusers hand, it is your abuser continuing to dictate your life, how it unfolds and what your potential is.
As I discovered that, I got angry. I didn't want even passive decision making by him in my head. And so, rather than placing blame, and becoming a victim of having been a victim, I got to work. For a while after you go through something like a confrontation with a person who is abusive, your abuse defines you. Its hard not to talk about it all the time. Its hard not to see everything through the lens of either the abuse or your struggle to survive. But with time and patience and practice, your abuse, your relationship with the person who abused you (and by this, I mean the way you think of them in your life and how much control they still have over you), fades and changes.
My abuse I see as a fact, like I have blond hair (well, now I'm getting Grey hair, but don't tell anyone.) When it seems apropos, I bring it up, because becoming silent about it again gives it power again. And so its a thing that happened in my life. I'm not angry about it any more. I don't hate my step father. I understand that he became who he is becuse he did NOT break this cycle in his own life. Someone obviously hurt him badly. He is a picture of what I could become. He is a picture of what happens when you let your coping and your abusers fear dictate the decisions you make in your life. When you don't do the work to ferret out root impetus, motivation, when you aren't willing to, for lack of a better word, look at your shit, you run the risk of becoming a person like this. A person driven to do things with no logical purpose, a person driven by passion and fear, a person running on the auto pilot installed by their abuser, and having no idea that its happening.
I don't worry or obsess about the abuse in my life. But it certainly was a powerful factor that shaped my life significantly, and continues to do so, because it drives me to become who I would have been, and who I can be now, had he never come in contact with me, and in spite of the fact that he did.
I bring it up here, because I answered my friend's question with a bit of that history, and then I told her; after I did the scariest thing I've ever done in my life, I wanted to be certain that any boundaries I felt were boundaries or rules that I agrees with. That were there for healthy reasons. I didn't just not want to abide by abstract rules of conduct installed by my step father, or all the coping I had learned to survive, but I didn't' want to abide by rules imposed by other people's fears in general.
Its like living in a pen or a corral and bumping up against the wall, and saying, oh, I shouldn't go out there. Well, why not? Because there is a fence here. Well, why is the fence here? Who put it there? Who says outside the fence is bad? Who is telling you to stay inside, and what is their motivation?
For years, my mother cut the end off of a ham before she cooked it. I always assumed that she cut it off for a reason, that had to do with basting or juices, I assumed that this is how you cook a ham. One day, I found out that she cut the end off the ham because that's how her mother had always done it. And then I found out that her mother cut the end off the ham because the ham wouldn't fit in their baking dish. There's no reason for me to do it. There's no reason for my mom to do it.
People live their lives trapped by convention and tradition, not that those things are bad, but have you examined why they are there? Just because its always been done that way, or it hasn't been done yet doesn't mean its not worth doing differently or its not worth trying to do!
What I told my friend was that I am just not willing, ever again, to look at a boundary that I bump into and blindly follow it. I look to make sure that I am not endangering myself, my kids, my family, I look to see what the risk is, what the possible result could be, and then, more often than not, I remove my fear and give it a try.
I realized, after I broke free of 26 years of fear and dictatorial rule by a deeply disturbed man that most of us walk around afraid of change, because the unknown is truly frightening. What would happen if I told the truth? Would my world fall apart? Would I loose my mother? Would I get beaten, or killed? Would my children get taken away? What about my PTSD? Would it get so bad that I would have to be hospitalized? Would I lose my kids because of that? Could I survive this?
The answer, quite simply, is yes. You can survive. There is life on the other side. Life on the other side not only of abuse, but of being broke, of being divorced, of being depressed, of being overweight. There is the life you choose to make. It is a life lived not carelessly, but in spite of fear. It is a life that you deserve, the life that we all deserve.
My friend asked me that question, because it costs a lot of money to walk down this path, that of trying out for the National Alpine Team, and there is very little chance that anyone will make it. But I'm not doing it for the paycheck. I could care less. There is a very nice tee pee here on T Lazy 7 that we can live in very cheap, and my kids like camping. We will be just fine.
Thats not to say I'm going to put us into financial ruin in pursuit of my goals, (you can't be a whole lot more broke than we are right now), but that I'm not afraid of it. because I know there is work out there. I know there is money to be made. I know my kids don't need TV or toys, they have the rivers and the horses and the mountains and the slack line and the other kids on the ranch to play with.
I know that making the safe choice, the choice with the predictable end is a choice that feels akin to death to me.
Now, when I face problems like, I want to go to Portillo this summer, but I don't have enough money, and if I do raise the money, are all my bills paid before I go, and who am I taxing in order to take this chance, an investment in my new path, trusting it will pay off later in things to write about, in relationships built, in training of my feet, in expansion of my understanding of history of the ski world? I think to myself, this is not a boundary that is going to hold me back.
This is an opportunity to work hard to make it happen. And it will either materialize, or it won't. Most of the time, if it does materialize, its not till the very last second, because I'm not in a place in my life where I can book things six months in advance, there is just too much uncertainty about whether it is safe to do it. That's me listening to a boundary. Until I know that I've met my responsibilities to my kids and my mom, who takes amazing care of all of us, I can't make a commitment like that. This drives people crazy, including me, and is something that I am working on changing, by working on increasing our bank account, and looking for creative ways to reduce costs, like getting an article approved ahead of time, and an expense account to help pay for a trip.
Whistler. Hood. Portillo. St. Anton, Italy (where I hope to find Stephano DeBenedetti and interview him, or have coffee with him, or go for a hike with him...). These are opportunities that could change my life. These are things that scare my friend because they are big choices in a life on a financial tightrope. But oh, if I can go. And OH! If I could take Ethan to Hood and take my mom and my kids to St. Anton for Interski... what an incredible journey it would be.
I choose to keep dreaming and to look at the thing that scares me, whether its a person, a thought, a steep pitch, or telling the truth to a friend, and walk right at it. Because I have a lot of becoming still to do.
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