"You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else..." Man have I ever lived and breathed that line. But it's not always easy to open up, to accept help, or to step up and be that help. Traveling, climbing and overall adventuring has always done a great job of cracking me open to allow for these things.
This is the second part of my two-part post. These are a few philosophical standpoints that I feel are the foundation for both types of adventure (semi dirt-bagging and mom-ing):
- Breathe.
Breathing. First and foremost. I am convinced that what I learned from a combination of yoga, climbing and travel is what got me through my hours of labor and then the first few weeks of motherhood. If you've not breathing in Bikram, you're passing out. If you're not breathing through the crux on a climb, you're peeling off the wall with pumped forearms and shaky legs. While on the road, if you don't stop to breathe when things go completely off the map, you're crying on the curb in a parking lot somewhere. If you're not breathing during labor, you're testing new limits of pain. If you're not breathing while your newborn is screaming one inch from your face at 3 a.m., you are most certainly crying alone in the dark. Breathing is the answer to everything. Forever and always.
- Embrace the chaos.
This is absolutely essential. A plan is necessary. This may include your general direction, activities you'd like to partake in and the gear necessary to make it happen. That being said, the most important thing to take with you is the true and genuine understanding that you can not, and will not, control everything to fit your plan. This is where the spirit of adventure lies. Flexibility. Shit is going to go wrong. Campsites are booked. Roads are blocked. The hike in is grueling. Storms roll in. Your dog gets Giardia while you're living out of your car. You wake up to a minor crime scene at the Motel 6 you've stayed in. It's dark, you're tired and you have nowhere to sleep. You wind up on decks, bare mattresses and in Wal-Mart parking lots.
Learning to embrace the chaos; to expect it, adapt to it and laugh at it is what gave me strength and endurance in those early days of motherhood. Sleep is elusive. Your body is not your own. Demands are high. The little one controls all. You notice a pattern, which means that pattern will immediately change. You'll forget the diaper bag. You'll forget your partners name, the day, the date. But you will learn fast. You'll accept new "norms", you'll form new rules of partnership, you'll laugh and love bigger than you ever have before. Thats how you'll see the beauty in the chaos before it all settles and fades away.
- Emotionality
You're gonna cry. I promise. You're gonna cry when you've moved across the country and you miss your family. You're gonna cry when you have fallen in the same spot on a climb over and over and over again and you feel weak and defeated and embarrassed. And you are going to cry when you've been home for a few days with your brand new little one and suddenly everything falls away and you are overwhelmed. And it is going to be an intense, overwhelming, whole body cry. It's ok. Just do it. Embrace the mess. Feel all the feels. Don't hide. Ride it out.
Now for the most crucial element when pushing yourself in the outdoors and when surviving motherhood as a whole.
- Other women.
For a long time, I spent a lot of my time with very few girls and large groups of boys when it came to pursuing outdoor activities. Then climbing introduced me to several strong, brave, inspirational women who lifted me up to a whole new level of independence, pushing my limits, and getting after it. Women need women in the outdoors. Seeing one of my female friends crush an intimidating route, attack a downhill on their mountain bike or carving through powder in the backcountry, is the push I need to feel like "I want that. I can do that too." It eliminates excuses. It gives strength and power in knowing we are capable. There is an undeniable bond between females pushing themselves in the outdoors. They will be the ones to push you, coach you, mentor you, and to lift you up.
Same goes for motherhood. You will need women. You will need to be honest. Be real. Put it all out there. Ask crazy, scary, gross, unthinkable questions. Air your crazy out with them. Laugh at it, at yourself, at each other. Don't be shy. Tell all. You need them. You are not alone. If you've thought it, feared it, wondered it, doubted it, so have they. Nothing is more important and necessary for the survival of a new mom than feeling a part of something bigger. You are a part of a tribe of bad ass women who have endured the most intense, chaotic, overwhelming, indescribable thing in the entire world. Find them, reach out to them, hold on to them, and be them for each other.
Here's to my fellow semi-dirtbags living the Mom-life strong. Here's to needing your tribe, whether it's on the road, at the crag or on the phone at 3 a.m. with your newborn in your arms. Here's to being ok with knowing you're down. Here's to leaning on each other. Here's to lifting each other up. And here's to dry shampoo, headbands and earrings and laughing at the beautiful chaos we survive over and over again.
