| First skiing lesson at Brian Head, 2010 |
On this particular day, in the midst of my 40 Bags in 40 Days Challenge of de-cluttering my house, I find myself pausing to reflect on the things I let go with ease, and the things that are just now stopping me in my tracks. The stuff that was worn-out, useless, or hideous? Easy. Clothes that are no longer stylish (mine rarely are) or ill-fitting? Piece of cake. Jewelry that has no sentimental value? Good riddance. But two weeks into thinning my belongings and organizing things finds me facing the tough stuff. Treasured correspondence. Over twenty volumes of scrapbooks. My Harley gear. My skis.
This morning, as I was looking at old skiing pictures, I couldn't help but smile at the faces of my children grinning into the camera. Such fun times. Days spent on the slopes reminded me how amazing my life is, spending it with loved ones, laughing, doing something that made us so happy. Skiing made me feel young.
I didn't take up skiing until late in my forties. Bridger and Sierra took a beginning skiing lesson with me that first time. Bridger went on to be a snowboarder; Sierra had a fun day, but she wasn't bitten by the ski bug.
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| First skiing lesson at Brian Head, 2010 |
Just last year, I took a tumble down the slopes on my one and only day of skiing, on New Year's Day. It had been a great day, a wonderful day, spent with my youngest, that ended for me when I tore my MCL, and spent the afternoon with my ski pants down around my ankles, and a grocery sack full of snow on my knee. Even under those circumstances, I could say it had been a fun experience.
That accident led me to a surgeon's office, which led me to a rheumatologist's office. Dr. Mathews was very concerned about two things: my unstable back, and my arthritic knees. Apparently, arthritis can be eating away at soft cushy material under kneecaps, without causing too much concern to the owner of the knees. When Dr. Mathews told me that I should put away my skis, and refrain from hiking on uneven trails, this owner of the knees took offense.
How dare he. Who did he think he was? Who did he think I was? I was a skier, darn it. I was a hiker, the HAPPY hiker. So I went anyway. And I crashed. I crashed on 1/1/13, the year he told me I should stop, and on 2/2/14. Yep, it happened again.
In thinking about my love of skiing and my bad luck, I had to admit I'm just not a good skier. I'm more of a faller. I knew I wasn't a great skier, but I had so much fun, I didn't care.
Now that I've had two serious accidents, it's time to "get real," as Dr. Phil would say. I'm not good enough at it, and I'm not strong enough, to maintain the control necessary to prevent serious accidents. My skiing days were numbered from the start, having begun so late in life, and I've had my fun. Now it's time to let it go, to release that part of myself, so that I can be open to other possibilities that await me.
Can I just let go of this part of my life? I can, and I will, but not without some feelings of melancholy.
Make no mistake; letting go is one of the hardest things I ever have to do. I'm not one who does it gracefully, either. I tend to have a white-knuckle grip on what was, while groping blindly into the unknown of the future; I stumble forward while looking behind me. It doesn't have to be such a messy process, but that's what it has been for me.
Letting go is more about new beginnings than old endings. It's about loosening our hold on a time that has passed. When we release the past, we can finally move forward.
So today I will take pictures of my boots, skis, and poles, and post them for sale. As I end this chapter of my life with some wistfulness, a glimmer of hope begins to flicker as I consider my other options.
Cross-country skiing was something I loved to do when I was in college; I could give that another go. As one of my friends reminded me, "Aah, cross-country skiing. It's just like downhill skiing, except without the fun." We laughed when she said it because, unfortunately, it's partially true. But it may be the one thought that keeps me sane today.
"When one door closes, another door opens." By letting go of the past, I will free myself to enjoy the present.
If I thought parting with my skis was hard, deciding what to do with cherished photos and letters was more of a challenge than I wanted. FRAGILE: Handle with Care is the next post about the 40 Bags challenge.
"When one door closes, another door opens." By letting go of the past, I will free myself to enjoy the present.
If I thought parting with my skis was hard, deciding what to do with cherished photos and letters was more of a challenge than I wanted. FRAGILE: Handle with Care is the next post about the 40 Bags challenge.
Keep your eye on the opening doors! I recently decided to sell all of my snowboarding equipment because I have other hobbies that cost less money and take less time investment. I don't think it means I'll never ride again, but it was sad to let go of things that inspired so many cherished memories. The important thing to remember is that the memories remain without the "things". On to the next chapter!
ReplyDeleteI'll cherish the memories, and start looking for those opening doors. Thanks for your gentle reminders. And thanks for taking the time to leave your comment here.
ReplyDeleteI can so relate. I have skiied once a year since 9th grade. Not well, but good enough to keep up with the group. I rarely fell, but when I did I had a hard time getting up, even in my younger days (I'm 53). I have never been an athlete, but skiing was something I could do, often better than my friends. Even better than my kids! But stenosis of a cervical bone in my neck led to neck surgery-fusion of the bone. My surgeon said I was fully recovered and I could resume to normal activities. If it hurts, don't do it. Good advice, huh. Well I skiied, didn't fall down and then on the last run my daughter ran into me getting of the lift. I fell. Something cracked. I was afraid to get up. I did, but my neck hurt. I scared my daughter (and me) to death. It hurt badly enough to call the surgeon from our hotel, thinking maybe I needed to go to emergency room. He didn't think so and he was right. But I never skied again. That was 5 years ago. Now my husband and kids will go for a weekend but I stay home. I have my alone time to do what I want. I miss it, but I'd miss my mobility and health more. It's hard to admit we're not young anymore. Shoot, I'm going to be a grandma in a month! Wait, what? I'm too young! Apparently not. Its the way things should be. And I'll enjoy it as you will enjoy the door that is peeking open for you. Enjoy!
ReplyDeleteYOU GET IT! I'm 53, too. This getting old ain't for sissies. Thank you for sharing your own story; it's good to know someone else knows what I'm going through. We ARE too young to be grandmas! ;-) Best wishes to you!
DeleteI've never had the pleasure of learning how to ski (even though I'm from the Buffalo, NY area), but it's the one thing I swore I would learn to do before I got too old (I'm hitting the mid-60 mark). However, I can relate to the difficulty of letting things go that directly relate to those memorable times in the past. I taught, but after 10 years, I realized I was not a teacher. I loved the classroom, the content, and the kids; but I fell down several times and got hurt. It was difficult for me to admit this and walk away. It's all a part of our personal growth, forcing us to look beyond to a new dawn.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know you were a teacher, too, Shelley. I hope you go skiing soon! It is SOOO fun. I even like the lessons, if I'm with the right instructor. Thanks for checking in.
DeleteFrom a 58 year old who had her first back surgery at 53, then 2 neck surgeries 15 months later,@54 then a right hip replacement (anterior approach) 8 months later (55) 53 is not getting old. And neither is 58. I am healing the beliefs around "aging" having noticed that I feel as though I could fall into an abyss of irrelevance when I turn 60. When I consider that the longest it takes cells replicate and regenerate themselves in my body is seven years, WHY do I think I have to age with deterioration? I believe it is an ingrained expectation that can be shifted. So ... I stayed in my 3rd story apartment in a complex with rolling terrain ... and chose to view the stairs and rolling terrain (including the pebbled sidewalks) as part of my rehab ... part of retaining my brain, part of building new neurons, and neural networks .. retraining my body to do what it was created to do ... I do things that I "shouldn't" be able to do. Please don't let a medical professional tell you what you can and cannot do!! You make the choice! You are far too vibrant ... that vibrance radiates through the screen ...
ReplyDeleteDeborah, thank you for your thoughts! I still hike, and I plan to ski, just not downhill so much any more. One of my friends reminded me that they have rental shops for people like me who want to try it occasionally. I just don't want to risk my ability to enjoy my walking, cycling, and hiking! So glad you popped in for a visit, and took the time to comment. I appreciate it so much.
DeleteI teared up a little as I read your post. Letting go bites. I have completely reinvented and restarted my life several times so I can identify. Most recently, it was BEYOND hard to give up the majority of my "worldly" possessions for a chance to live a simpler, less stressful life in Belize. I gave up my lovely home and 10-year old business (which had also become my identity), my beloved Harley, my Jeep, our boats and jet skis, and other cherished toys that we had worked so hard to obtain. We also had to put a greater physical distance between friends and family, which was incredibly hard to do. It's not easy, and it still hurts sometimes when I think about it nearly two years later. But I had to let go in order to be able to begin again. And when you let go of things that no longer benefit you well, it often opens up space for something that does benefit you--sometimes very well. Unclench the fist and let go, my friend, it's not the skis you're holding onto. It's what they represent that you are afraid of losing. Try to make peace with what the skis represent. And, hopefully, embrace whatever wonderful thing may replace the space they were taking up!
ReplyDeleteDawn, you are an inspiration to me. Thank you so much for your input. Today I prayed that there would be enough room created in my life to receive the blessings I believe are coming my way. I'm unclenching my fist; you are right. The skis represent fun and energy and youthfulness. I will find those very things in other activities I enjoy. Your words touched me today.
ReplyDeleteI just love it! Bravo! Getting older DOES suck! I can't jump off the back of my pick up truck anymore, or spring up in the morning without a few groans, but I'm happy to be alive, wrinkles and all! Great job!
ReplyDeletePamela, getting up at all is better than the alternative. Thanks for all of the positive feedback. It's nice to have you here!
DeleteDenise, thank you for all the ways in which you continue to teach as you learn. Think it's time for me to let go of my snowboard and a half dozen other things too.
ReplyDeleteI wish you luck on "thinning the herd." Some things are easier to relinquish than others.
DeleteI really liked this post, especially this paragraph:
ReplyDeleteMake no mistake; letting go is one of the hardest things I ever have to do. I'm not one who does it gracefully, either. I tend to have a white-knuckle grip on what was, while groping blindly into the unknown of the future; I stumble forward while looking behind me. It doesn't have to be such a messy process, but that's what it has been for me.
These words really spoke to me, as I'm still processing the loss of a good friend. I know what you mean. I don't think I do anything gracefully. (I can just imagine myself on skis. I'd probably kill myself. Chuckle.)
Carla, thank you for stopping by, and for taking the time to comment. I liked the phrase you selected, too. ;-) I am so sorry about the loss of your friend. I wish you peace and comfort as you deal with your friend's passing.
DeleteMy only memory of skiing was New Year's Day of my final year of high school. I was more wowed by the cute guys then the skiing so never made it past the bunny hill. And I never did learn to stand up on my own, there was always someone just a bit older and cute enough for attention to help me out. It was a wonderful day but I never did get an urge to really learn to ski.
ReplyDeleteI understand the feeling though. There are other things I have needed to let go of. Each is a small time of grief that adds up if we don't allow ourselves to experience the genuine feelings we have.
Peace to you.
You and I need to avoid ski slopes on New Year's Day, apparently! Thank you for dropping in, and taking the time to respond. It's always a pleasure to hear from you.
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