My Life in the Mountains: A Journey of Healing and Discovery
The mountains weren’t always my home. A couple of years ago, I was living a very different life, one that revolved around city noise, a demanding job, and a future I thought I had figured out. Then everything changed. I lost Sara, my partner and my best friend. Losing her felt like losing myself. It was as if someone had turned off the lights, and I was stumbling in the dark, unsure of how to move forward.
After Sara passed, I tried to go through the motions. I leaned on the routines I knew: going to work, seeing friends, even practicing yoga and meditation, but none of it seemed to touch the emptiness I felt. I was angry, sad, and completely lost. People told me time would heal, but every day felt harder than the last. It wasn’t until a friend convinced me to join him on a rock-climbing trip that something began to shift.
I didn’t know what to expect when I first tried climbing. All I knew was that I needed to feel something—anything other than the numbness that had taken over my daily life. My longtime friend Jake could see I wasn't coping well and convinced me to spend a weekend camping at the mountains with him and do a bit of climbing to take my mind off Sara. Standing at the base of that first cliff, I felt a spark of fear and curiosity. Jake tied me in and led the pre bolted pitch then called me to follow. As I started climbing, I realized there was no room in my mind for anything else. My focus narrowed to the next hold, the next move, the next breath.
For the first time in months, I felt alive. The physical challenge forced me to stay present, and that presence gave me a break from the constant loop of grief in my head. Climbing became more than just an activity; it became my escape and, eventually, my therapy.
As I spent more time outdoors with Jake and the community of climbers I soon became a part of, I started noticing the way the mountains and the people who frequented them seemed to pull me in. There’s a raw honesty to being in nature—it doesn’t care about who you are, your plans, your pain, or your past. It just is. That simplicity was exactly what I needed. I began to see climbing as more than just a physical challenge; it became a way to reconnect with myself and with something greater.
The more I climbed, the more I opened myself up to reflection to what else was out there. The mountains have a way of quieting everything else and forcing you to listen—to your breath, your thoughts, and the world around you. That’s when my spiritual side began to deepen. I started meditating at the summits, journaling in the quiet moments, and finding meaning in the smallest details, the way the light hit the rocks, the sound of wind through the trees, the stillness of the night sky.
I left my old job, found a small cabin, and began building a life that felt aligned with who I was becoming. My mornings now start with yoga on my porch, facing the rising sun. I meditate daily, not out of obligation but because it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
I’ve also started guiding others who are seeking connection—whether with nature, themselves, or something greater. I lead rock-climbing trips, teach yoga, and make simple, handcrafted gifts inspired by the mountains. Each piece I create is a reminder of the healing power of nature and the importance of living in the present.
Grief doesn’t disappear. It is a part of me now but it no longer defines me. The mountains taught me that it’s possible to carry that pain in a way that doesn’t weigh me down. It showed me how to breathe again, how to find beauty in the moment, and how to trust the process of life—even when it doesn’t make sense.
If you’re struggling, I want you to know there is hope. It might not come all at once, and it might not look like you expect. But healing is possible. For me, it started with one climb and grew into a life I never could have imagined. Wherever you are, take that first step you never know where it will lead.
