Some things are better experienced in a group: winning something you've all been working toward, hearing good news you've all been praying about. Some things are better experienced with someone cheering you on, knowing they'll have your back whether you succeed or fail, motivating you to keep going each step of the way, reminding you of your value and your strength.
Then, some things are better experienced alone, with no team, no hands to hold, no one reminding you that you can do it, and no one to catch you when you fall.
Where I attend school in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, is a ridiculous, 38-foot slide that can only be reached by climbing rope after rope until you finally make it to the top, where you have to lift yourself into a crow's nest to access the slide.
This slide has intimidated me for years. Many times my sister and I would go to the park to conquer the slide, only to chicken out and get in our car to go back home, defeated by it. Recently I visited the park with a friend. I had climbed almost to the top when I froze and couldn’t move anymore. My friend was climbing circles around me (literally), trying to get me just to move my feet and not be afraid.
There were children all around me, climbing to the top, not scared at all. One hollered at me from the crow’s nest and asked what was wrong.
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid. It’s not scary,” he said, peering down at me, waiting for me to make a move. As he waited, I honestly felt like he was mocking me.
I stood in the same spot for about 15 minutes. I eventually climbed back down, yet again, defeated.
The following week I read an article where a few people had shared the moment in their lives where they began to view things differently. One person recalled the time they were trying to teach their little sister how to dive into a pool. She kept saying how afraid she was. Nearby was a woman, about 70 years old, swimming laps. Eventually, the woman came over to the girl and said with a fist in the air, “So you’re afraid — DO IT ANYWAY!”
There I was. Twenty-two years old, too scared to climb a few feet on a few ropes, too scared to even hang with the little kids. I let my fear get the best of me every time. And why?
Immediately I texted my friend who had been with me the previous week. “I’m going on that slide. Right now.”
He asked that I wait until he was there.
“No, I want to do this on my own.”
I drove straight to the park after reading that article. I walked the distance of a half mile around the park’s walking track in order to psych myself up for a thrilling victory or a devastating blow to my morale.
The park was empty. There were no adults walking on the track, no children playing on the playground or climbing the ropes to the slide. Clearly, there was no better time than this to attempt the climb.
Within minutes I was back where my body froze during every previous attempt at defeating the slide. I didn't allow myself to slow down or even think about it. I continued the climb.
After holding my breath the whole way up, I was finally able to catch my wind once I reached the crow’s nest and pulled myself inside. In that moment, I was probably more proud of myself than I had been in a long time.
I've always taken pride in my independent personality, yet there are some things I've never thought I could handle alone, and this slide was one of them. As stupid as it may sound, the day I climbed those ropes to the slide was one of the first days I actually felt like an adult, able to take risks and do things that scare me - just because. I think that's the way we should live our lives on a daily basis. Think of all the great things we miss out on because of our fear holding us back.
Some things are meant to be done in a group. Sometimes we need a team behind us. Sometimes we need our own pep squad. But there are other times we need to do things alone. We need to do some things alone to test our strength; to see how tough we are knowing there's no one there to pick us up when we fall. It is in those times that we grow and mature the most.
