How Hiking Healed My Anxiety
The day was warm, with a breeze. Appalachian winds always blow the sweetest in the mountains, and I have 18 years of childhood experiences to attest to that.
I spent the Fourth of July in Virginia’s Shenandoah National Park, taking in my country’s beauty from a land-focused perspective. As I wandered up and down forested trails, I thought of the people who were on this land first- I thought of their sacred connection to the forests and streams, to the animals that co-occupy the land, to the Spirit that is found in all living things.
Hiking, or even just being in the mountains, has always been a peaceful, centering experience for me. Lately, I’ve made an effort to hike once a week to strengthen my health- both mental and physical.
During my Independence Day excursion, I tackled one of the most beloved hikes at Shenandoah: the Bearfence Mountain Rock Scramble.
Now would be the perfect time for a picture of the trail, so you could share in my awe of how I accomplished this, but let’s just say- I was too busy making sure I was still standing on the side of the mountain to snap any shots…
This was my first rock scramble. I was determined to make it up the boulders (even though I’ve always been too fearful to do anything like this before), because I knew the view at the top would be worth it.
I began my ascent upon the rocks ahead of my hiking partner- partly because I was terrified by the idea of falling backwards, but also because I wanted to accomplish this independently. I needed to know I could do it.
The entire way up, I noticed myself saying Okay. You’re okay. Okay.
Over and over and over again,
between each and every breath-
Okay. You’re okay. Okay.
The words escaped my mouth effortlessly, subconsciously- and it was working, keeping both my head and heart from racing.
As I positioned my feet carefully on the infrequent ledges and hoisted myself up the rock with every bit of my arm and leg strength, I felt my breath begin to steady itself and my movements to be more sure and intentional.
Reaching the summit that overlooked the lush, green Shenandoah Mountains felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders (literally). Laughter burst from within me, perhaps the most naturally it had ever done before- because I realized I did it.
I did it.
I can do hard things.
I one time wrote in my personal journal that I grew up being scared of my own voice. It was by nobody else’s actions that made me feel that way, but it was just a feeling I had that what I said on the outside was never fully conveying how I meant those words on the inside. From a young age, I felt big emotions deeply, and not being able to fully understand them yet was difficult.
When you are scared of your own voice, you are afraid of facing hard things, because you don’t trust yourself enough to get through it- even though you got through it every single time.
I have lived my life in a bubble of protection- putting as many barriers up between me and hard things as I can. I think I tend to make the lead up to something harder than the thing itself, but it’s all damage control in my mind. I have always been so scared of getting hurt.
Until last Thursday.
Making it through a challenging hike with a loyal hiking partner by my side and viewing Creation from a point of view I thought was possible only in photographs, helped me to realize that hard things are inevitable on our journey.
When we are confronted with these hard things (in my case that day, a series of mountain rocks), we can either turn around and return from where we came from or we can gather ourselves, tell ourselves we’re going to be okay, and climb.
Those who accept the challenge of tackling difficulties head on might be rewarded with a new vantage point on life, like I was when I reached the peak of that mountain.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I can do hard things.
I’m okay.
