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.