Woman with Tanks for Hands

Who do I want to be.

I had a difficult year. I want to be actually happy. I am content, but that’s not enough.

Step one is learning to live. I live a balance life. Last year, I worked hard and I played harder. But, I didn’t train. I played hard, but not necessarily better. For the older climbers out there, it was work all week and then burn out on the weekends. I climbed, but didn’t feel my muscles get stronger. In reality, I slowly became the “girlfriend” with the climber. Instead of the equal, and I hated it. 

Luckily, that’s why I am dating this particular climber. D, had me lead a 5.10 hard trad made for small hands. I am a short 130 pound woman with tanks for hands, it challenged me. I had to think about my placements, and my stances. I will admit I cried at one point. An unknown woman shouted at me something to the effect of “use your small hands show the boys what’s tough.” And, I had a tough week at work. I stopped. I didnt scream what i was thinking “I have fucking wide hands, I am a human not a barbie.” She was trying to help after all. Instead, I stopped midway on the route, I calmed my tears, and flashed the ending. D, said nothing, till I lowered. He kissed me, smiled, and said “good job.” That’s a real partner. 

One moment like that in a year is a symbol that I am now the girlfriend climber. What I need to do is train. Go to the gym and train twice a week, no exceptions. I do “no exceptions” for work, but not for happiness. Honestly, it’s because my work is a movement. Movements get slowed by the weary, so happiness is important.

Two, I need to eat at work, coffee is not a meal. I need to stop coming home at 8, walk the dog, and open a beer. Don’t get me wrong we make healthy dinners, but the Netflix and beer is only an adult version of pain pills to a long work day and no justice. 

I don’t want to numb my life from 9 till work six days a week. I want to also reach out and write a letter to two women I should talk to more, first of every month write two letters. I can at least do that. 

And, I am going to write. I can’t get myself to write in a journal. But, perhaps I can feed this site once a week. This will be for those who relate, not for views or Facebook, but as a place to begin a transformation into living – the real kind with heartache and triumph. 


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