I finally arrived back in the West and my beloved National Parks last night, after having flown from a wedding in New England to a family reunion at Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado.
Caption: rehearsal dinner prior to the wedding. The groom is in the middle.
And while I didn’t climb any mountains these last few weeks, the time was nonetheless full of revelations.
For instance, it was gratifying to notice ways I’ve changed since I was last home. It’s one thing to find wisdom “on the mountain top”, but it’s another thing all together to come home and try to live out what you’ve learned “up there.” Previously, I’ve written about my frustrations when I failed to do this. So, in contrast, this mini-triumph felt all the more sweet.
Initially, I noticed changes in how much easier it felt to be present, vulnerable, and happy with other people — especially people who I previously felt hurt by. But in time, I noticed even bigger changes in the ways I was showing up for people I was closest to.
Previously, because of my false (but deeply believed) story that “I don’t deserve to be loved” I was always on edge with others, even my family and ex-girl friends. While I tried to project confidence, at my core I felt such low self-esteem that I didn’t believe that any relationships could withstand contact with the “full version” of me. This led me to hide many parts of myself — including many of my current thoughts, and many of my past and current feelings (especially if they were anger, hurt, or frustration with one of those people). In addition, I sought to avoid direct unpleasant conversations or direct conflict.
Ultimately both of these tendencies manifested by me either withdrawing from situations or conversations (physically, or, if that wasn’t possible, verbally); or staying present, but redirecting everyone’s attention away from me (I was a master at not answering questions). However, if my feelings of hurt were intense enough, and I couldn’t stuff them down any longer - I would let them out; but typically only indirectly.
In contrast, while I was off the road these last few weeks, I found myself stepping into difficult conversations willingly and directly on multiple occasions.
One of the most profound examples of this occurred on Father’s Day.
I love my father, but like all fathers and sons, we have tension in our relationship. Despite recent thawing, overall our relationship had been under serious strain the last few years. But rather than directly address the parts of it that were unsatisfying to me, I often withdraw from him.
In contrast, on Father’s Day (of all days), I interrupted the flow of the day to give voice to my frustrations when he said something that triggered some of my old resentments. While I wish I would have said certain things differently, I began by telling him simply - “I feel frustrated with you when you say that!” While many people probably regularly get into fights with their folks, I never had. In 30+ years, I’ve rarely said anything like that to him before so directly.
Thankfully, after a moment, I realized that simply criticizing him was not a likely to change the relationship, so instead I was able to pivot to talk not only about my complaints, but also about my deeper commitment to the relationship, and also the ways I wanted to show up differently in the future.
Caption: reflections on Crater Lake. Taken earlier this month.
I was scared that my words (often clumsy, and not always the most sensitive) would damage our relationship further. So after I spoke my truth - I waited with baited breath.
But of course, instead of a blow out, the opposite happened. Because he was willing to stay present with me, and in turn take the risk of also giving voice to his frustrations with me, we had one of the best conversations we’ve ever had. Afterward, I felt closer to him than at any point in years — seen by him, understanding him in new ways, and lighter in my being — as if a boulder had been lifted from my shoulders that I had no idea I was carrying all the time.
Of course our relationship still isn’t perfect. And I could have handled the conversation better. But a lot shifted for me by taking the risk of speaking my frustrations aloud - not only in our relationship, but also in terms of my beliefs about myself. Most profoundly, I now know that I don’t have to be held hostage to my old belief I that I need to always hide my negative emotions; nor do I need to let myself be forever controlled by fear of hurting the feelings of people I care about. This exchange (and several others) helped show me that I have the power to be open, honest, direct, and respectful in ways that enhance the relationships that matter to me.
Caption: My father and me on a hike a week after our father’s day conversation. We’ve had many additional hard conversations since then, and each one so far has just kept bringing us closer.
I anticipate that showing up this new way will continue to be a challenge for me in the future. Integrating new ways of being takes time. I know this, but it’s hard not to feel frustrated when I back slide. In fact, even since Father’s Day, I’ve had multiple times when I shied away from conflicts I should have had, or didn’t say no to someone when I knew that would be best for me.
I’m trying to be kind to myself despite that, and instead of just obsessing on my stumbles, also take pride in where I’ve come from.
But more profoundly - in feeling closer to my father, and so many other people as a result of my increased openness, I’m discovering the strength and lightness of being that is available to me when I give up the need to carry my shame, fears, and failures alone.
As I resume my adventure, I know I’m bound to slip and fall (physically and in my relationships) many times yet. But my time home showed me again that I need not fear those falls so much anymore. Instead, I now have further evidence that in openness there is the possibility of transformation, connection, and new reservoirs strength, all of which are deeper (and more nourishing) than anything I can ever find in myself alone.
Caption: My mother and me on an alpine ridge in Rocky Mountain National Park this afternoon. This is my 19th national park so far in 2019.