Again and again climbing bites deep to the bone and hurts more than I can easily bare. It is a new feeling, this loss without solution. Throughout life I have come across loss, and I have never dealt with it well but I always fixed things somehow.
Now though I am better at dealing with grief and loss but there is genuinely no solution, and the problem, although it may seem small to many, really gets to me.
I see a picture, I remember climbing, the fact that I can no longer do it sits in my mind and grows.
I try and think of a solution, a way of reducing the pain. But there is no solution. I can not climb any more.
I sit here, impotent and hurting with nothing to do. My mind, in desperation, turns to what must be an evolutionary trick, desperate violence. I will take on impossible odds to get this thing that I have lost back. So, angry and sad and hurting my logical mind restrains my instincts; I do nothing.
I am so angry at this loss that I want to break everything within sight, I want to smash everything and anything. The destruction I would wreak on anything that stood in my way back to health and climbing would be biblical.
I want a solution.
But there is none.
Often I am ok with this. Sometimes I don’t think I could be more angry. And it is always climbing that brings it home.
I don’t know how sore you are. If you can’t go up, can you come down?