In the Valley
I can almost see it…that dream I’m dreaming. But there’s a voice inside my head saying “you’ll never reach it.”
My dreams are big. They are enormous, hot-air balloon sized dreams that have inflated with each passing year. I want to be a sports writer for ESPN. I want to be an advocate for mental health. I want to be a Pulitzer Prize winning author. And I will be all of those things.
Every step I’m taking…every move I make feels lost with no direction. My faith is shaken.
My dreams are big. They are scary. Terrifying. Sometimes seemingly impossible. At the ripe age of 22 I still haven’t achieved some of these things. And I beat myself up about it constantly. But yesterday, while channeling my inner 14-year-old and listening to “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus, I had a realization.
There’s always gonna be another mountain. I’m always gonna want to make it move. It’s always gonna be an uphill battle; sometimes I’m gonna have to lose. Ain’t about how fast I get there…ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side…it’s the climb.
My life right now is an uphill battle. I am in the valley staring up at a mountain the size of Pikes Peak. It seems like every time I scale the mountain I fall right back down. Dealing with mental illness has beaten me down and made me feel like nothing. It’s taken away my joy, hope and sense of self more often than I care to admit. I’ve been left feeling breathless, like a shell of a person with no idea who I am. But I’ve realized that this transitory period of finding myself is all part of my climb.
I heard a quote from Hall of Fame football coach Vince Lombardi that struck a chord within me.
“The man on top of a mountain didn’t just fall there.”
The man on top of Pikes Peak went through physical and mental trials before reaching the breathtaking mountaintop views. He grew tired. He contemplated giving up. His legs ached and burned and begged for mercy. His heartbeat throbbed with exhaustion and fatigue. He thought to himself, ‘is this even worth it? Is the view on top of this mountain worth all this hardship and emotional turbulence?’
The answer is yes. It is worth it. The climb is at times debilitating, physically and emotionally taxing; a living hell. But once you reach the top you see the mountain from below, how far you’ve come and how hard you worked to get there. You see the stars 14,000 feet closer to the sky. You see the alluring snowcapped peaks around you that remind you of the climb you’ve just made. And you realize as you look down that because you didn’t give up during your time in the valley, you are able to say “I climbed this mountain.” And you see the wildflowers growing below you, and you wonder, “why aren’t there any flowers up here?”
Because the most beautiful flowers don’t grow on mountaintops. They grow in valleys.
