Several summers ago, my sweet dog, Scout, and I were visiting my brother Marty in Montana.  My brother Jack and his family were also visiting, and we all decided to take a ‘beautiful hike’ one day.  

I am here to tell you that the hike was not beautiful …. and it was not Montana’s fault.  It was mine. 

Before we headed out, Marty assured me that the hike was ‘not hard’ and ‘not that long’.  (You can see where this is going, right?)  I have accused him of hoodwinking me ever since.  

The word ‘hike’ in the dictionary means “to trudge, traipse, tramp, plod, walk, or trek.”  And despite what several of you may argue, NOWHERE in that definition does it say “very, very far, very, very steep.” 

I would love to say that I rolled with the punches that day, that I was pleasant as a peach as the path kept getting steeper and more difficult and practically never-ending.  

I did not and I was not.  

That hike in beautiful Montana was hard and long.  And my brain made it ten times harder and ten times longer. 

If I had then the tools I have now, I like to think that day would have gone differently for me.  

How?

I wouldn’t have relied on someone else to give me the information about my questions – that’s my job.  I would have googled the hike, read lots of reviews and suggestions, known a little more about what I was in for and what to prepare for before agreeing to go.

OR I would have decided ahead of time that no matter what happened that day, I would make it a good experience for me. Again, my job. I would have gone slower or enjoyed more or noticed the experience of others or stopped to rest more or turned around and met everyone back home or a hundred other options that my mad and frustrated and pouting brain didn’t allow for.

OR (and this is my favorite) I would have given myself permission to admit to them, and to myself, that I. do. not. like. hiking.  There, I said it.  I would have had my own back and been on my own side – my biggest job.  And I would have trusted my family to love me anyway.

Nancy Colier, LCSW, once said that when you offer yourself a curious and compassionate ear — talk to yourself as someone who matters, give yourself the benefit of the doubt, take a break from self-judgment, and even consider what’s good about yourself – you get to be a supportive and loving presence for YOU.  She says “this season, and all seasons, remember that it’s okay to be on your own side.”

I can’t wait to hear about the ways you are conquering your own ‘hikes’.  I hope you have your own back and get to be on your own side, through it all.

And if you’re stuck on how, I’m here to help.