“I got this. I am strong. I am strong.” I spoke these words out loud as my fingers hesitantly eased their way into the crack. I twisted, weighted the finger lock, and moved my feet up. “I am okay. I CAN do this”, I said, my heart pounding, the length of rope leading to the belay device below useless in its flexibility. My muscles tensed. I dug deep. I stopped thinking. And I just climbed. This was a far cry from some similar experiences I had had on the trip so far. The words

Theres nothing like being unable to physically move to give the mind a chance to race. Everything suddenly comes to a halt in one singular moment of falling. Before I knew it, everything was racing by, and then I was in the air. I wanted to think about how to land but before I knew it, I was on my butt, and back up, adrenaline pumping. I didn’t feel the pain until after the two hour hike out. It wasn’t until the next day that the whiplash set in, and the bruise began to form

I couldn’t eat breakfast. There was a knot in my stomach and it wouldn’t go away. I took deep breaths, drank water, and tried to remind myself that I did too know what I was doing, that this wasn’t outside my comfort zone, and I was totally up for any challenge that could be thrown at me. And yet still I found myself dry heaving over the toilet, unable to use my mind to comfort my body from the waves of anxiety that flowed through me, a feeling that I know all too well. It s

[Published in Pulse Spikes Issue 2] I try every day to be brave. I try to conquer the anxiety stirring in my chest and face the fears that inhibit my creativity, my desires, my happiness. Every single day I struggle with how, or even why, I should try to push my boundaries. Why can’t I sit in my bed forever and drink tea till I die? Am I good enough at anything to successfully add to society? I really don’t have answers to any of my questions, and I am constantly asking new o