My friend Barb predicted I’d be writing a blog with this title, so how could I not. Late in July, I had a phone call from my wonderful friend, Jane. Jane and I have known each other and have been friends ever since we were introduced on the steps of the ‘Girls’ Entrance’ of Dundas District High School on the first day of grade 10. My family had recently moved to a farm in the area, I was a brand-new student, and I knew absolutely no one at my new school. The guidance counsellor, Miss Kelman, found some ‘nice girls’ to introduce me to. Somehow, the stars aligned and we remain friends to this day.
During my phone call from Jane, she told me she and her husband, Terry, were coming to Alberta for a visit. We have been incredibly lucky over the years to be able to see one another regularly. They continue to live in Ontario, and currently live not very many minutes away from Jim’s mom. At the same time, their son, Greg, lives here in Alberta. Needless to say, between them coming here to see Greg, and us going there to see our families, we are thrilled to be able to meet in person more often than might be possible otherwise.
This summer Greg took a job at Mount Norquay ski hill, as a summer guide for their Via Ferrata experience. Translated, Via Ferrata means ‘Iron Road’. It’s an assisted mountain climbing experience where participants scale mountains by way of ladders, suspension bridges and handles secured in the face of the mountain. In my mind it translated not to Iron Road, but to NO WAY!
Jane told me Greg was taking a group of eight friends and family on one of the excursions, the Ridgewalker, as part of his hiring package. Most of the spots in his excursion were quickly filled with his very fit, youthful friends, but he had saved two spots for his parents. His Dad, Terry, had, with much trepidation, agreed to go. Jane, who is afraid of heights, was a definite no. This left one spot open, allowing Jane to extend the invitation to me. My answer was easy and swift.
No.
But thank you.
I thought it looked scary, and dangerous. It seemed foolish to do. I am afraid of heights. I’m not much of a risk taker. I’m known to be overly cautious. So, no. No thank you.
And that was that. I put it out of my mind. Out of my mind that is, until the week before Jane and Terry were to arrive, when came another text telling me one of Greg’s friends had had to back out of the adventure and Greg had again extended the invitation to me.
I’m cautious and a safety girl, but I also remembered hearing that sometimes opportunity knocks twice, and when it does, I should at least listen. So, I asked a very shocked Jane to give me 48 hours to think about it.
Those were life changing hours. I didn’t talk to anyone about my pending decision. Not one person. I did do some real soul searching. Yes, I’ve been cautious. Yes, my set point had become a quick no. Yes, most people would never even have asked me, knowing I’d say no. But Greg had asked, and not only had he asked, he had texted his mom saying ‘She will crush it’.
Crush it?!?
No one has ever, ever said this about me. It made me think, and made me question why I was saying no.
After my requested 48hour thinking period, I called Jane and asked her if the spot was still open. Yes, it was. I asked her to tell Greg I was in. Jane couldn’t believe it. ‘I thought you were afraid of heights too?’
‘I am’, I replied, ‘But I’ve still decided to go. I am determined to face this fear.’
For the next week or so, I spent many, many waking moments, truthfully many hours in the night too, telling myself I could do this. Other than telling my sister Mary, and Jim, who was shocked but very supportive, I told not a single soul. I did not want to do it or not do it because of the comments of others. I neither wanted to hear, ‘You’ve got this’, nor ‘You’re crazy’. There was something deep inside me prodding me to do it for me.
On August 3rd, Jim and I drove into the mountains to join the others. Another surprise awaited me. One more spot had opened just that morning, and Jane, feeling terrified, but knowing if I could do it, so could she, said yes. I was terrified as I put on my harness and helmet. I was terrified riding up the chairlift to get to the base of our climb. I was terrified doing my test climb on the practice wall. And I could have cried when I said goodbye to Jim. Throughout all this time I said not one word.
However, I had determined to do this. I had determined to do it without fuss. I had known I’d be afraid, and I had determined to look that fear in the eye. Not to overcome it, but to face it. I had determined to put forth my best effort, which I soon realized was going to be needed.
Greg was an amazing leader. He watched as I approached each section in the way he instructed and often as I’d complete each one, he’d matter of factly say, ‘Good job.’
That’s it.
During my phone call from Jane, she told me she and her husband, Terry, were coming to Alberta for a visit. We have been incredibly lucky over the years to be able to see one another regularly. They continue to live in Ontario, and currently live not very many minutes away from Jim’s mom. At the same time, their son, Greg, lives here in Alberta. Needless to say, between them coming here to see Greg, and us going there to see our families, we are thrilled to be able to meet in person more often than might be possible otherwise.
This summer Greg took a job at Mount Norquay ski hill, as a summer guide for their Via Ferrata experience. Translated, Via Ferrata means ‘Iron Road’. It’s an assisted mountain climbing experience where participants scale mountains by way of ladders, suspension bridges and handles secured in the face of the mountain. In my mind it translated not to Iron Road, but to NO WAY!
Jane told me Greg was taking a group of eight friends and family on one of the excursions, the Ridgewalker, as part of his hiring package. Most of the spots in his excursion were quickly filled with his very fit, youthful friends, but he had saved two spots for his parents. His Dad, Terry, had, with much trepidation, agreed to go. Jane, who is afraid of heights, was a definite no. This left one spot open, allowing Jane to extend the invitation to me. My answer was easy and swift.
No.
But thank you.
I thought it looked scary, and dangerous. It seemed foolish to do. I am afraid of heights. I’m not much of a risk taker. I’m known to be overly cautious. So, no. No thank you.
And that was that. I put it out of my mind. Out of my mind that is, until the week before Jane and Terry were to arrive, when came another text telling me one of Greg’s friends had had to back out of the adventure and Greg had again extended the invitation to me.
I’m cautious and a safety girl, but I also remembered hearing that sometimes opportunity knocks twice, and when it does, I should at least listen. So, I asked a very shocked Jane to give me 48 hours to think about it.
Those were life changing hours. I didn’t talk to anyone about my pending decision. Not one person. I did do some real soul searching. Yes, I’ve been cautious. Yes, my set point had become a quick no. Yes, most people would never even have asked me, knowing I’d say no. But Greg had asked, and not only had he asked, he had texted his mom saying ‘She will crush it’.
Crush it?!?
No one has ever, ever said this about me. It made me think, and made me question why I was saying no.
After my requested 48hour thinking period, I called Jane and asked her if the spot was still open. Yes, it was. I asked her to tell Greg I was in. Jane couldn’t believe it. ‘I thought you were afraid of heights too?’
‘I am’, I replied, ‘But I’ve still decided to go. I am determined to face this fear.’
For the next week or so, I spent many, many waking moments, truthfully many hours in the night too, telling myself I could do this. Other than telling my sister Mary, and Jim, who was shocked but very supportive, I told not a single soul. I did not want to do it or not do it because of the comments of others. I neither wanted to hear, ‘You’ve got this’, nor ‘You’re crazy’. There was something deep inside me prodding me to do it for me.
On August 3rd, Jim and I drove into the mountains to join the others. Another surprise awaited me. One more spot had opened just that morning, and Jane, feeling terrified, but knowing if I could do it, so could she, said yes. I was terrified as I put on my harness and helmet. I was terrified riding up the chairlift to get to the base of our climb. I was terrified doing my test climb on the practice wall. And I could have cried when I said goodbye to Jim. Throughout all this time I said not one word.
However, I had determined to do this. I had determined to do it without fuss. I had known I’d be afraid, and I had determined to look that fear in the eye. Not to overcome it, but to face it. I had determined to put forth my best effort, which I soon realized was going to be needed.
Greg was an amazing leader. He watched as I approached each section in the way he instructed and often as I’d complete each one, he’d matter of factly say, ‘Good job.’
That’s it.
It was exactly what I needed. I needed someone to acknowledge what I was doing. I did not need someone to be shocked I could do it, or cajole me into it, or ask gently how I was doing. I did not need condescension or cheering. I needed someone who assumed I could do it and acknowledge I had done it. He did that for me.
I did not look down once during our four-hour climb. Not once. I listened very carefully to the instructions and tried to do what I’d been told. I talked to myself, sometimes out loud. I reminded myself to place my hand here, my foot there, or to unclip and reclip. I reminded myself to smile. I even laughed when just as we were beginning one of the more challenging sections, one of the younger climbers behind me sang out, ‘Let’s Go Girls’, one of our dance groups very favourite songs to perform. Even though none of the dancers knew what I was doing, it felt like I had a whole pocketful of support.
I don’t think I’m unique. I think many, many women are like me. We’ve spent our lives putting others first. We’ve encouraged our partners and children to ‘Go have fun!’ We’ve said we’d have dinner ready when they came back. Or we sat in the stands and cheered for them. I did all this, and I don’t have any regrets about it. As women we’ve also been gently and not so gently told what we will like, and not like, what we might be good at and what we should likely leave to others. I sometimes think we were also taught how to be cautious, how not to rock any boats, or challenge any societal expectations. It became an easy habit to say a quick no, without really thinking about whether I might rather say yes.
August 3, 2024 changed me.
I became a bit more of myself. I revealed a piece of myself to me that I’ve not had the courage to do before this summer. Part of this began to show up when I was in Spain with our son, also named Greg, in June. Perhaps that laid the groundwork for the climbing experience. I think I revealed something to myself that others may have seen, but I had not. I can’t go back now. I don’t think I ever need to complete a Via Ferrata again. But I do think I’ll pause before I say no from now on. And I’ll pause before I say yes too. I now know that just because I, and others, have gotten used to seeing me in a certain way, does not mean this is all there is to see. I want my children and grandchildren to live life fully, to say yes to the things that bring them joy, and to be brave enough to become themselves. I want them to see me do this too.
I want this for each of us. We get exactly one try at this thing we call life. Maybe we already have it perfectly right and we just want more of what we already have. On the other hand, maybe it’s time to shake it up a bit. Either way, life is very, very precious. Let’s make the most of it.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What am I revealing about myself?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to begin to say yes to the things that make you more of you.
I did not look down once during our four-hour climb. Not once. I listened very carefully to the instructions and tried to do what I’d been told. I talked to myself, sometimes out loud. I reminded myself to place my hand here, my foot there, or to unclip and reclip. I reminded myself to smile. I even laughed when just as we were beginning one of the more challenging sections, one of the younger climbers behind me sang out, ‘Let’s Go Girls’, one of our dance groups very favourite songs to perform. Even though none of the dancers knew what I was doing, it felt like I had a whole pocketful of support.
I don’t think I’m unique. I think many, many women are like me. We’ve spent our lives putting others first. We’ve encouraged our partners and children to ‘Go have fun!’ We’ve said we’d have dinner ready when they came back. Or we sat in the stands and cheered for them. I did all this, and I don’t have any regrets about it. As women we’ve also been gently and not so gently told what we will like, and not like, what we might be good at and what we should likely leave to others. I sometimes think we were also taught how to be cautious, how not to rock any boats, or challenge any societal expectations. It became an easy habit to say a quick no, without really thinking about whether I might rather say yes.
August 3, 2024 changed me.
I became a bit more of myself. I revealed a piece of myself to me that I’ve not had the courage to do before this summer. Part of this began to show up when I was in Spain with our son, also named Greg, in June. Perhaps that laid the groundwork for the climbing experience. I think I revealed something to myself that others may have seen, but I had not. I can’t go back now. I don’t think I ever need to complete a Via Ferrata again. But I do think I’ll pause before I say no from now on. And I’ll pause before I say yes too. I now know that just because I, and others, have gotten used to seeing me in a certain way, does not mean this is all there is to see. I want my children and grandchildren to live life fully, to say yes to the things that bring them joy, and to be brave enough to become themselves. I want them to see me do this too.
I want this for each of us. We get exactly one try at this thing we call life. Maybe we already have it perfectly right and we just want more of what we already have. On the other hand, maybe it’s time to shake it up a bit. Either way, life is very, very precious. Let’s make the most of it.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What am I revealing about myself?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to begin to say yes to the things that make you more of you.
RSS Feed