Weathering the Storm

Part 1: Dark Clouds

Written By Owen Tomkins

“This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.”

― John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

A year has passed since my post on introspection. A year not like any other. One of euphoric highs and excruciating lows. One of immeasurable darkness and lessons in patience. One of expressions of love and acts of random kindness enough to melt the coldest of hearts. It has, in essence, been an emotional roller-coaster of previously inconceivable magnitude.

Self Deception

As humans we are experts in the art of self deception. So good are we that we subconsciously realise the importance of practice in order to stay at the top of our game. And practice we do, in all aspects of our lives. We are rarely better at this than when telling ourselves that we are alright when faced with some pretty damning evidence to the contrary.

When I decided that a period of introspection would be beneficial for me, I think it is safe to say that I did so with a level of naivety hitherto reserved for those of a low emotional intelligence. This is ironic really, given the driving force to seek help had come entirely from within.

As we entered our first period of confinement last year, I was lucky enough to be living with a friend in an apartment that afforded space to train physically, good views and a lot of sunlight. Train I did. I was physically fitter and stronger than I had been in a long while. With some help, I had changed my eating habits and cut out sugar. I lost weight and was enjoying climbing again and looking to maybe fulfil some long term grade aspirations. For quite a while, focus had been missing from my life and thus my training was inconsistent. Just before the first confinement I met a girl. Having not long since come out of a relationship which towards the end left me feeling lonely and with a pretty low opinion of myself, I found it very easy to spend time with someone who made me laugh again and who seemed to enjoy spending time with me.

Unfortunately this was exactly what I needed to allow the self deception to begin. As with any new romantic venture, thoughts of others became very peripheral and that included me. The desire to please and to continue justifying this new interest in me became driving forces in what I did, thought and said. Although outwardly honest about my hurt with regards my previous relationship ending, I was seemingly incapable of allowing myself the space and time to heal properly. I opted instead for jumping head first into the hedonism that comes with new intimate relationships and the subsequent emotional attachments that form. The easy fix. Except it wasn’t. What happened instead was the steady increase in the need for reassurance and a magnification in amplitude of my insecurities. Issues that had been present in my previous relationship were now very much at the forefront of most aspects of my life. I had essentially shifted the responsibility of my happiness to my new partner - one who had openly stated that she could not offer me a relationship. Our time together came to an emotional crescendo and thus began one of the first and most important lessons of my journey into introspection.

Here was a thread just aching to be pulled, and pull I did (with the help of a very caring and careful therapist) until the whole metaphorical garment of self love unravelled. The warning signs had been there for years. People had tried to show me the disparity in the way I looked at myself compared to the way friends and loved ones did/do. Through a pernicious combination of negligence and a lack of understanding of the term self love, I had slowly built my house of cards.

So it came to be that I found myself, on a climbing trip in the south of France, sitting on my rope bag by the river writing myself a list of reasons to stay (to live) versus ones to leave. The list in favour of ending it all flowed so easily, bullet point after bullet point mounted up whilst only two reasons for staying emerged. One, I didn’t want to be responsible for inflicting the hurt and pain that my death would bring to those who have loved me and stood by me for so long. Two, I didn’t want to die, I just couldn’t see a way to make the hurt stop. I walked back to the car and we made our way back to Chamonix. A journey that I wanted to be over so quickly and yet one I didn’t want to end. I knew when I dropped the girl I was seeing at her house, it would possibly be the last time I would see her. Although I was heading home, I had never felt further from home in my life. I felt completely lost, at sea, in a rapidly sinking, poorly cared for mental boat. I cried the remaining hour of the journey on my own and arrived for an emergency appointment with my therapist in Chamonix.

Although we had been working on me together for a few months by now, I think this was the point at which I finally let all the walls fall. I stopped pretending that I was OK and finally let everything out. What followed was an outpouring of emotions over the next days and weeks. A level of self loathing previously unknown, guilt, grief, anger, sadness, shame and lack thereof. All were experienced and revisited several times over the following months as I slowly learned to sit with each of these mental visitors and explore what they had to teach.

I’m lucky to be surrounded by some amazingly supportive friends both in Chamonix, the UK and further afield. People rallied around me and although I had a deep seated feeling of loneliness, I wasn’t alone. Friends went climbing and flying with me, took me to jump exits and helped me to go through the motions of living in the hope that my mind could rest and I could begin to process the events of the last few months.

Central to beginning to feel better through all of this was learning that I had to be my friend, to turn up for myself and remain on my own side. I looked at and moderated the language I used when talking about myself. Facing and sitting with the discomfort of compliments, looking at the smiles that I can put on people’s faces and learning to feel pride for being responsible for that.

A vital lesson in my emotional education of the last year has been to recognise that there will likely always be work to do but whilst I am willing to learn and be open to the work that’s required, then I am keeping the self deception at bay.