deb roush

We have a mountain not too far from our home — Pinnacle Mountain — and when Terry is golfing on weekends, that’s the place you can often find me. When I climb alone, my thoughts wander, and on one recent expedition my mind traveled to how similar climbing a mountain is to life. Of course, I’m not the first one to make this revealing comparison. Heck, even Miley Cyrus figured it out in her song The Climb:

“Keep on movin’
Keep climbin’
Keep the faith baby
It’s all about, it’s all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith …”

But Pinnacle Mountain can literally stand as a symbol of my life, and here’s how: There are multiple ways to summit Pinnacle. You can climb the “back side,” which, laden with tumbled boulders, is an arduous workout, or the “front side,” which begins with a path and is significantly less daunting. Both have trail markers to follow to direct you to the top, but it is easier to wander off course on the twists and turns of the back side. Either way, you sweat getting to the top, and it’s going to take some time. I’m blessed to have a front-side life. I was raised by two loving parents who live down the road. They paid for my college education that led to a rewarding career that allows me to write — my passion. I have a patient, supportive husband I have loved for half my life, and our two children, both who attended private schools and one who is a junior at Texas Christian University, have led front-side lives, too. I am proud to have contributed to that. More and more, I meet people — friends — who have back-side lives, and I am overwhelmed with respect for them. There are those who paid for their own college educations while working full time or been a success without one at all. Some have lost parents at a young age. Others have experienced tremendous personal loss or tragedies or forged the trail alone. Yet they made it to the top, with a full view of the beauty of the river and the valley below.

Pinnacle Mountain also has a base trail. If you can’t climb up, you can hike around the fairly flat terrain of the lower mountain. Admittedly, there have been times in my life I just could not go up. I was on my front-side climb when I was knocked off course, and circles around the base trail were as much as I could do. That was the case when my mom was diagnosed with cancer several years ago. It happened last year, when I suffered a major anxiety attack that led to depression. It was the worst time in my life. For months, I lost my zest for living, my love for anything that had been meaningful in the past and a desire not only to quit climbing, but even to walk. Mental illness runs in our family. Generalized anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic disorder — you name it, and we have it on my father’s side of the family. For me, my depression led to several months on the base trail, but I’m climbing up again now.

That leads me to how you can start climbing again — whether it is the front or back — after you have been relegated to the base trail for a stint. I think it’s simple. It is the people climbing with you through life who choose to come back down, extend their hand and pull you up to the next trail marker. You might climb awhile on your own, and if you stumble, they come back down for you again and point the way. Soon enough, you’re climbing independently. Let me tell you from experience, it’s not always the people you would expect who take the time to turn around for you. It may not be your best friend. It may not even be your family. Sometimes it is not those people because we do not let them know we need help. Or the person we most want to lean on might be on the base trail themselves at the time. (Continued below)

I chose not to climb Pinnacle Mountain today. Terry is golfing. The weather is great. I had planned on it. Instead, I wanted to get this essay out of my mind and into words. Not only for me — but for those who came back down from their front- or back-side climbs when I needed them. You know who you are. I love the people with whom I’m climbing through life. I appreciate you all, and I’m thankful for front-side living. The one thing my depression, and my hiking of Pinnacle has taught me, is a willingness to turn around and look back from where I am. The view is breathtaking on the way to the top, and sometimes you see someone who needs a trail marker pointed out, or even a hand to grab.

P.S. For the record, when I climb Pinnacle, I head up the back side, down the front and back to my car traversing the base trail. I like a challenge. 🙂