Before leaving on my trek, I ask my friends if they have any interesting questions for me to consider on the trail. One question was about the contents of Bush’s Baked Beans. I couldn’t think about beans without feeling queasy. Another question was: who am I? To answer this I would need to start bailing my mind’s ocean with a teaspoon. I should have tried harder on the beans.
So who am I?
I decide to end each trekking day by writing something about myself in my journal. I want to save all the stray Khumbu dogs. Going up steps stinks. I manage a slimmed-down version of my morning beauty routine to the surprise of all my naysayers. I hate the gross, gnat-covered tuna sandwich I ordered tonight in Phadking. I tend to be a complainer, which I am trying very hard not to do on this trip. This feels no more insightful than an assignment from a counselor, and the results aren’t telling of much.
The trail moves up and up. My “who am I notes” start sounding crazy. I am weak sometimes. I am fighting my desire to cave in. I have a rabbit heart that pounds furiously yet I remain the group tortoise, coming in last each day. I am afraid of my physical self. I have never asked my body to do this much and I have no idea if it will obey me. I am conflicted, sometimes trying too hard and sometimes not hard enough. And I’m mad at myself for that. Anger makes a motivating trail mate, but not the one I was looking for in a place engulfed in prayers.
I try writing about prayers. Who hears my prayers? Am I only praying because I could die on this trail? I am a person who has everything. You could say my prayers have been answered. What about the people here in Nepal- have the gods answered their prayers? I walk clockwise around the Mani stones. I spin the giant prayer wheel and watch the dizzying colors. Very good, the monk says.
Altitude sickness hits and I stop writing altogether. It’s as if I have imagined a Jillian who can trek and when I discover that she didn’t come on the trip, I am furious. I feel ridiculous for prancing around the Boise foothills and proclaiming to be physically fit. For subjecting my readers to endless drivel about how I might apply eye shadow daily on this trek. I have fantasized about a journey that has more to do with subduing leg hair and surviving bad toilets than it does skimming oxygen from the thin air and finding the will to eat a few bites of porridge. I have done what I famously do, which is to picture something in my mind and then find out that absolutely nothing I imagined comes true.
Coming in dead last each day compounds my shame. I see my trekking mates sipping tea and lounging around the teahouse stove. I try to smile when everyone applauds my entrance. I cinch my tights up to my ribcage and make them laugh. I am in the company of athletes – lovers of physical challenge who are willing to pay the price in pain. I am just the girl who is picked last in gym class. And I’m mad enough to spit. I’m terrified they can see my black heart straight through my shirt.
Humiliation, misery, mixed up dreams, crippled self-esteem – we hike together all day. I am a girl who is falling apart. I recall a text from Linda before I left – You will be safe. You will be strong. You will be amazing. Just like always. I bitterly think that this is only true for my cerebral endeavors, but how was Linda to know? Say it anyway, I snap. Say it over and over. On the final morning of ascent, I am no longer able to carry my pack. Light as a feather it is, but my body is crumbling. Nawang slips it over his shoulder. Tears trickle across my jaw and into my ear. My nose runs harder.
I don’t know who I am.
As I pick my way through the boulders, I realize I my internal burdens weigh as much as the rocks. I decide to set one thing down at a time and say goodbye. You are the only you, Pat says. So here goes. I forgive myself for being a girl who fumbles with a rain-fly, but who can make risotto without a recipe. I forgive myself for being a great monkey puppeteer but a disaster at saving my own fingers from freezing off. I pardon the girl who has forgotten how to try, who hasn’t believed in a long time. I accept that I am a girl who hasn’t looked pretty in two weeks, whose jacket and gloves are covered in an icy sheen of snot. Farewell to the girl who is no longer a pianist or a working librarian. I say goodbye to my old last name. I don’t know what’s next for me or who I am. But this is too much to carry. I set it down on the trail.
They say that Everest stays the same whether you come or go. What you learn about yourself along the way is the point.
So now what?
My friend and trekking mate Michele emails a long paragraph. She wants it published in my blog. I read it, looking at myself through her eyes. She writes about a Jillian unknown to me and it is exactly what I need.
Jillian is too humble to write anything about herself in regards to how strong a person she is. I met Jillian once before our trip to Nepal and I remember thinking to myself what an inspirational person she is. She had a dream to see Mount Everest and made a commitment to train everyday so she could. I remember seeing her in the airport and she had this big smile on her face. Watch out Nepal – here comes Jillian to conquer the mountains. Jillian does not give her self enough credit. She is a strong person and she accomplished one of her dreams to see Mount Everest. Every day, I would see Jillian put on her gear and be ready to conquer the day. It was tough at times, but she never gave up. She had the desire inside herself to complete her mission. I told her that she needs to strive to be the best that Jillian can be and not to compare herself to anyone else. At the end of the day we all end up at the same place and it doesn’t matter how fast it took us to get there. I would tell her that you can do anything that you want to as long as you put your mind to it. You can take pain for a little bit, but just not forever. Jillian, I must say that I am so proud of you. You are truly an inspiration to me and to all women. You are one tough girl. I hope you continue to hike and enjoy the outdoors.
I marvel that others can see the things we miss in ourselves and I am grateful for it.
My world has tipped slightly on its axis and there is no going back. I wonder will I keep my hard-earned realizations. Will I morph again as life goes on. Will I learn to live gently with myself and others. I think our whole life is a giant trek. We just keep walking until the trail ends. I could die before I know who I am. But I can uncover small truths along the way. I’ll still be the lanky girl who talks too much when she’s nervous, who finds a way to mention Everest at least once a day. But with clear eyes, a full heart, and everything I need inside of me, I will make it home.
Who am I?
I am a girl who walked through the clouds to Everest.
Thank you to Po Huang and Kevin Friend for the photos in this post.
made me cry Jillian! Wonderful.
Me too, Jamie. I used a box of Kleenex writing this. It’s hard to be 43 and just learning to accept who you are. Thanks so much for reading – xoxo
You are amazing and inspiring Jillian!
Thanks Jenny! I’m so glad you liked it. I’m working my way up to being as tough as you. xo
I swear to god as soon as I read one sentence that your write I start bawling. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I’m just a lanky girl who loves you and your ambition and your ability to represent lanky girls everywhere in the best light!
Then we’re even….because you’ve written so tear-jerkers too! Thanks so much for all your support – it is good to be lanky! love you
Wow Jillian, I loved reading this. You and Everest have something in common… an ability to expose reality — pure and real and overpowering. Great post.
Thank you Emily. I agonized over this so much – it felt so personal to send out into the ether, but I had to do it. Thank you for reading it and being supportive! xo
Beautiful! We need to talk about how you can submit your work t adventure magazines–I think that’s part of your life that needs to evolve. I can see that your words will help those decide about going to Everest, living in Boise, visiting Paris, etc or your words will inspire others to be their best self! You are amazing!
Thanks Jody – can you be my agent? I think I’ll need some serious help….
I appreciate you for reading my work and caring enough to suggest this. You never know what life has in store for us. xoxo
Jillian~Love your posts…thanks for the reminder that coming in last place isn’t always bad!
That’s true….being last just gives you more time to smell the flowers. Or soak up the Himalayas….
Thanks for reading!
Jillian,
I have thoroughly enjoyed following your adventures through your blog. Thank you for including me. You have made memories that you will be able to think about your entire life.
Lisa
Thank you Lisa – indeed, I will dream about Everest for the rest of my life. I’m glad you liked my stories – I appreciate your support. xo
I love this.
Yay! I’m happy to hear that. This was so difficult to write – I cried so much and it felt really personal. Now if I were just sitting on a camel….(wink). Thank you for reading, Ann. xo
i loved reading this KY…so heartfelt & funny. i think you should blog about your upcoming singapore adventures. you’re bound to run into an intimate meatball or two! love you!
Thanks Cindy! Yes, meatballs are where you least expect them. I’ll be ready. xoxo
I am standing and cheering. It’s always amazing to read someone else’s truth and find that it matches your own. Thank you for being so eloquent in saying it. I just finished reading “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed – another woman’s outdoor experience and though I liked it, I think you could write something much more amazing from your experiences!
I know what you mean – reading about other people assure me that I share so many common experiences with others, connects me to the world. Thanks for the book tip – I’ll check it out. And Karen, thanks so much for reading my post. xoxo