I Am The Mountain

I am the mountain sounds powerful. To some, it sounds like a symbol of strength, stillness, and endurance. But when I say I am the mountain, I do not think of those things. I think of struggling, sacrifice and more. I think of being and feeling stuck. I think of standing in my own way.

I have endured and overcome a lot on this journey of life, and yet I am still the mountain. Mistrust, worthlessness, anxiety, and hopelessness are the rocks that build me. They make me feel like I am my own barrier. They are the walls I cannot seem to climb. I am the mountain that prevents me from living the life I want. I am the mountain that stands between me and love. I am the mountain that stands between me and God.

When mistrust and hopelessness mix, the weight of it is hard to describe. It’s like standing at the base of myself, unable to see a way up. The fog of my fears, being anxious, feeling stagnant, feeling hopeless, unlovable and unworthy makes it hard to find the path. I have prayed, begged, cried, spoken, and written about it. But instead of clearing the way, it only seems to thicken the fog. Wrapping itself around my heart until I can no longer tell where I end and where the mountain begins. After sitting in silence and crying for days, I had an aha moment. Maybe, just maybe the fog does not mean the path is gone. 

Maybe it means I am not suppose to see the whole path and climb at once. Maybe the next step is all I need to know right now. I have spent so days, months and years trying to move the mountain, to break it down, to go around it, to pray it away. But what if the way forward is not to escape it, but to understand it? I had focus. I listened to the echoes that bounced off the walls and realize the echoes were my own voice calling back to me. The mistrust, the feelings of worthlessness and anxiety are not enemies, but signals. They point to places within me that are still hurting, still waiting to be seen with gentleness instead of judgment. Maybe the climb begins not with strength, but with surrender with saying, I am here, and I am worthy, even in the fog. 

The mountain and I are not separate. I am the height and the base, the rock and the soil, the storm and the silence. If I can learn to meet myself with compassion, perhaps the path will reveal itself one small step at a time. So I will stop trying to conquer myself. I will learn to walk with myself. I will keep praying, keep writing, keep breathing not to erase the mountain, but to become whole within it. Because maybe the mountain was never meant to be climbed or moved. Maybe it was meant to be understood. Through every trial and tribulation I experienced, maybe the  mountain was always me. This is where the healing begins.