I sat, with a pair of $350 electric socks in my lap, trying to decide if I was about to cry. These weren’t just any pair of socks. These were magic; they were destined for Alaska. I thumbed the seal on the box anxiously, the one labeled ‘RETURNS NOT ACCEPTED IF SEAL IS BROKEN’, wondering what I should do.
***
I wasn’t ready. You never are for these things but, for this, I really wasn’t. I wanted to be leading ice at a certain level with dozens of hard pitches under my belt. None of that had happened.
Chad Jukes, Motivator
“You’ll be fine” Chad assured me, slurping the foam off a PBR. The bar lights flickered off of the sequins of his slinky, floor length ball gown and the glitter in his beard. “I can lead it all unless the ice is out. Then the 5.9X rock choss pitch is yours but the ice will be in and you’ll be fine.”
The DJ called out his name, and he turned to perform his karaoke favorite: “Springtime for Hitler and Germany.”
***
It was late February. Jim had a fever and a cough. We make jokes.
***
It was early March. Let the packing begin. I had just given my notice at work. Climbing, speaking about climbing and teaching climbing was my job description now. My last day at my old desk was the day before I was taking off for Anchorage.
My head was spinning as I thought of my life trajectory in days to come: “speaking panel at sponsor’s HQ; Los Angeles for a photo shoot; Alaska for a month; home for one week; West Virginia for speaking gig; home for two weeks; teach clinics on the road for two weeks; Chamonix for one month .…” For the last two years, my life was jumping from event to crag with the suitcase never quite getting put away. I had finally placed enough puzzle pieces together to try to make a go of this new adventure. Why not? I quit my ‘real’ job - I had life by the gnards.
***
Nationals was the first to get cancelled. Soon to follow were photo shoots and speaking gigs. “Fear not,” I thought, “You’ll always have Alaska, ready or not.”
Scrolling aimlessly one day, my messenger flashed open.
“Hey team, so…this virus thing, huh?”
My heart caught in my throat, watching the ‘…’ of someone else on our team typing.
“Yeah, it’s not looking good.”
I add my own message and hit send, not believing my own words as the bubble appears: “No worries, we should play it safe – there’s always next year.”
***
By May, I didn’t know who I was. My suitcase was packed away in the basement. The skin on my fingers soft from lack of use. What good is a climber who can’t go climbing? What kind of professional can I be without work? Hours of scrolling through feeds, watching other ‘pros’ on their home woodies, hangboarding and posting kale smoothie recipes had become my life. I was filled with doubt. I had no interest in any of that. Am I the imposter? Why did I ever think that *I*, of all people, could be a professional athlete?
I didn’t allow myself to feel bad in any real way. How could I grieve what I had lost? There are people dead and dying, people who have lost real jobs in a society where most can’t survive missing two paychecks and people on the streets protesting for social justice - things that seemed so much greater than a professional athlete’s career crash. My desk job kept me on and my husband has secure work that he loves. Who am I to feel sad for myself? All I had were basic privileged white girl problems.
***
In June, I realized the reality. These may seem minimal but they were my basic problems. I wouldn’t get unstuck from this new limbo until I let myself feel sad and let myself grieve for what I had lost, even if the physical manifestations of my loss were only ‘cancelled ‘ lines through my calendar. In this era of being drained emotionally every time you turn on the news or log on to Instagram, it’s important to remember that your problems and your grief STILL matter. We are so often told not to compare ourselves to others. Generally, such instructions are usually about physical appearance or a type of accomplishment. Don’t worry, they say, You’ll get there in your own way and time.
I started to realize that, just as you shouldn’t compare yourself to others’ successes, you shouldn’t compare your grief and failures to theirs. Just because someone else is struggling or may face worse challenges than you does not mean your own struggles are invalid. We must keep what we face and what we lose in perspective compared to others but we are still facing our own unique losses that impact us each in their own, unique ways.
***
Day dreams now all come with asterisks. We are all traveling into this new unknown together. So, go ahead and feel bad for yourself. And while normal may not return as soon as we’d like, if ever, you’re not experiencing this alone.