On Trust
By: Meghann Mcniff
Tags: Short Story, Trust, Climbing, Life Lessons, Inspiration

On Trust

And all consuming worry

My first time climbing outside of the gym. 15 weeks pregnant.

My dad used to tell me to be like the mountain climber, “And hold on with one hand, while you reach with the next.”

What I heard was, “Don't quit your job, before you have the next one lined up.”

At the time, I felt like a caged animal.

A lab rat.

A crazy person in a straight jacket.

I sat on my little bouncy ball, and wore clogs that were not patten leather. I died my hair with streaks that were barely in regulation. I bent the rules as much as they would budge — but this didn’t change the fact that I had to go back to that god damn cubicle, again, tomorrow.

And it made me itchy.

I wanted so badly to leap.

To free fall.

To get the hell out of there.

With wild abandon.

My dad wanted me to keep my bird in the hand until I landed the next thing.

And I just wanted to let my bird FLY.

The only snag with my rejection of his advice, is that I hadn’t actually ever been rock climbing.

What I know now, having learned to climb a little, is that the rock climber doesn’t just plod along, one hand to the next, in a boring repetitive and linear sequence — like I thought my Dad wanted me to do with my career.

If you are learning, and growing—then there will inevitably be a moment.

A moment when you know well enough where your next move is, but you aren’t totally certain you can get there.

A moment when you have to trust.

Trust yourself — that you might just make it.

Trust your partner — that they will hold the rope.

Trust your rope — that it will hold you.

This moment of knowing you have to leap. Even the tiniest little leap, means you have to release your attachment to the earth.

And accept, or maybe even enjoy, either outcome.

What I’ve learned the hard way is that both outcomes are equally important. Missing the leap is just as valuable as landing it.

Because we are still climbing, and learning — when we go up, and when we go down.

The only point that we stop climbing, is when we cling.

When we freeze with worry.

Deliberating.

Ruminating.

Debating.

Blaming.

Regretting.

These are the things we do to avoid facing that moment.

And I find myself in that moment now.

I left my job, and had a baby.

Should I stay home? If so, for how long? Should I do my own thing? Or go for a job with benefits? Flexibility?

Still frozen. More thinking.

If I stay home too long, will I be able to go back to work? How will I explain the gap? Will I lose relevance?

Enter all consuming worry.

And then I catch myself.

And I remember that I have a choice.

I can stay frozen, fueling my worry.

OR

I can choose — to trust.

Trust, that I will find that move.

Trust, that it’s there.

Because, it is.

Of course it’s there.

I just can’t see it, yet.

And when I see it, I will take it.

And if I miss, I will be ok.

And then, it’s fun again. The climbing is fun. Staying home with my kid is fun. Exploring my next move, is fun.

Turns out, my old man was right.

Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Faith is taking the first step, even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

And here we are.

In the middle of a hard climb. A winding staircase that curves out of sight.

And we get to choose.

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I am a professional coach and co-founder of the Seattle Coaching Collective. If you are interested in learning more, drop us a love note here.