I spent a week with an amazing group of people. Everyone there wanted to honor someone who struggled with Cancer. Some were survivors themselves. Out of 35 people, all but 8 reached the summit of Shasta. I had every intention of being part of that majority in spite of my recent illness. Unfortunately, that wasn’t likely. I keep thinking that I should’ve trained harder or pushed myself further, but it really just comes down to the fact that I didn’t take better care of myself at a time when it was crucial. On the mountain it was far too late to do anything about it.
Maybe the summit wasn’t supposed to be the goal of this trip for me. I opened up and grew close to a group of people in a way that I have never before experienced. Working at CB&C is a good intro to platonic adult intimacy, but climbing Mt. Shasta with the Breast Cancer Fund was like the AP course in platonic adult relationships. It took very little time to get to know everyone there better than most people I’ve known for several years.
We began our introductions with the reason why we’re participating in the climb – most of us were there to honor someone we’ve lost to Cancer and some were there to celebrate surviving it. It was Father’s Day. I was there to honor my father. I could barely get the words out, choking on my emotions. I was there to make a difference in the future so that my niece and her friends wouldn’t have to be in that place. We had five men in our group. As we went around the room, I found the men’s stories extremely touching because they were crying too. In my family that is unheard of. I mean, it’s already frowned upon for women to cry in our family because it’s a sign of weakness. For men it would just be blasphemous. From that day, I knew I was in for an experience like no other.
By the end of the week, I was hugging everyone. Yes, me! There were a few people that I thought were a little bit conceited, but I figured that was some sort of defense mechanism as well, so why take it personally? One person in particular always had something insulting to say about people. Towards the end of the trip, I managed to stop her from saying those things in my presence. I gently let her know that I believed everyone there was a valuable addition to the group, not in those words but she got the message. I began the week admiring her strength and drive because she is an accomplished author and a longtime survivor of Breast Cancer but, after talking with her and hearing her talk to other people, I realized that she’s just a person like the rest of us. With all of her achievements, she still needs something more to make her feel good about herself. It’s too bad that the something she chose was to criticize others but hey, nobody’s perfect. I suppose that means that aspiring to be more like her was probably not an appropriate goal from the beginning. I just need to be concerned with being an awesome Hester and forget about comparing myself to someone else.
I’m really intimidated by opening up and letting people in, but I am truly inspired by everyone who opened up to me. It’s not a sign of weakness to allow yourself to feel things and express those emotions. To be able to do that, get hurt and still come back and do it all over again, giving your completely genuine self each time, that is true strength. It’s okay to be afraid; you just need the courage to keep going in spite of that fear. Hmmm. Wasn’t that the message in Green Lantern?
I think I was more afraid of the crying and intimacy than I was of the mountain. That said, I'm going back for that summit when I'm 100% healthy again. Not sure how that fits into my marathon training, but somehow I doubt that will be an issue.
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