In my last post I scoffed about having to do an all day staff retreat at a ropes course. I wouldn’t say the day was the best eight hours I have spent.
We spent the morning in a quasi-group therapy session, doing the typical cheesy teambuilding games that did nothing to address what is really going on. Picture tossing balls back and forth, spinning some metal washers on a bigger metal ring, working out a maze path without speaking to each other…
Yah. After those good times, we were herded out to the high adventure area (if you are an Amazing Race fan, tune into the season finale – that’s where we were) and ended up in front of two very tall trees, with a log secured in between them. A system of climbing ropes draped around the scene, and one tree was festooned with climbing staples leading the way up, up, and more up to something like a thousand million feet.
Riiiighht.
I am not generally afraid of heights. I gleefully zip lined my way through a Kauai rainforest after all. Of course, we were encouraged not to do anything we didn’t feel comfortable doing. Because being the only one out of a group of 12, including your manager and the CEO, not participating is really comfortable like and doesn’t make you stand out aaat allll.
I stepped up to help on the belay team. I watched as one by one my coworkers strapped on a harness and helmet, and monkeyed their way up the tree, thirty feet up, step out onto the log and then jump off to be hauled down by the belay team. Some were a bit shaky, but they all had big smiles on their faces as they came down. I made up my mind to do the challenge after my older coworker who has COPD got suited up (he didn't make it all the way through, but it was awesome to see him get most of the way up the tree). I mean, really. How could I not? Plus I was intrigued. Could I do it?
So I get into the harness and WHAM. My brain decides to cry, baby, cry. I stepped up to the tree and started up without anyone except the guide seeing my wobbly bottom lip. The higher I got, the feeling of, not fear, but what I can only describe as sadness, overtook me. I got to the point where I had to transfer from the tree to the log and I made a shaky transition. And the tears came even harder. And then everyone below saw, or heard, what was going on. The chatter stopped and I heard someone say, “Oh! She’s crying!” Great. Now I’m crying thirty feet up in the air and people know it.
I remember thinking, what the hell? Why is my stomach not in knots but I’m snuffling like Colin after I’ve told him no more chocolate? My thoughts were clear and I was aware that I was out of sync. I wanted to reign it in. And I wanted to stop and sob my heart out. I tried to breathe it out. Just like I tell Colin – like blowing big bubbles. I even looked around up in the trees. Very beautiful. Didn’t stop the sobbing snot from flowing. I made it to the middle of the log before I was ready to come down.
The emotional overload cleared out as soon as I was on the ground and feeling raathaa stupid for crying in front of my coworkers. They did nothing to make me feel bad or pitied, for which I’m grateful. I got hugs and a lot of "way to gos." Someone asked me if I felt peer pressured into climbing. And I wasn’t really, not from them. In the past year or so I have been trying to face my fears – I figure if I’m so scared to do something, like being on camera or the radio, it’s the universe telling me it’s time to learn something. I’m glad I did it, have no freaking idea what happened up there. I think I’ve been holding in just a wee bit of stress and frustration that needed to come out in an unfortunately public place.
I would do it again, preferably with family or friends. But stick some Kleenex in my pocket wontcha?
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