Mountains and My Mental Health

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I moved to California this year. One thing this state is well known for is its beautiful nature and scenery, more specifically, the mountains. Since I was diagnosed with depression earlier this year, I've been working on finding opportunities to discover things that help me feel alive. One of the things I've tried so far is hiking.

I would say that my love for hiking is slowly growing on me. It's harder to feel passion for things due to my current mental state and that's where climbing the mountain comes into play. Let's look at my first ever climb.

It was Thanksgiving break and I was filming a vlog on my YouTube channel (which you should definitely check out if you haven't already). I wanted to end it with something nice and I wasn't really doing much, so I decided to take some photos of the sunset over the mountains. This was also a large step for me since photography has had the greatest loss of interest since I've been depressed. So my family and I went to a park to get a photo, which required me to go up the mountain. This was an ordeal in itself. I had to use my hands and grab onto stray roots and rocks to pull myself (I am very new to hiking in case you can't tell). I was scared at first, but it wasn't like my usual anxiety. It was the mild jitters as you're about to submit your final assignment for the semester. The deep breath before getting that piercing, or driving for the first time. It's a feeling of anticipation before something great and I absolutely loved it.

I didn't make it all the way up the mountain the first time, but I managed to convince my dad to take me back so I could try and make it completely up the mountain.

And so there we were, back the following week and ready for round two. This time, I took the lead and managed to make it up the first leg pretty quickly. I had planned out where I was going to go ahead of time so that made the process easier. I couldn't get any good pictures of the actual steep parts since my hands were too busy stopping me from falling.

However, after around 30 minutes of crawling, stumbling, and scattered bits of hiking, I made it to the top of the mountain. My thighs were burning, my hands were dry and scraped but I felt amazing. The view was incredible as well. Naturally, I took tons of pictures to capture my achievement. While I was standing and looking at the scenery around me, I realized something: I didn't feel anxious. And since I've been living with anxiety for a few years now, experiencing this rush of adrenaline without the sense of panic was refreshing. The sky was beautiful, the air was clear, and I felt like I could conquer anything. Was I still overwhelmed by my schoolwork? Yes. Was I still scared to write on the board in class? Yes. Was I still scared to be in a lot of social situations? Yes. So did climbing a mountain in a park change any of that? No. However, it gave me something I hadn't experienced in a while: hope. I now knew what it felt like to be carefree and excited about life, even if it was only for a short while. Those few minutes of exhilaration offered me great motivation to continue being kind to myself, be patient with my progress, and work towards my healthy future.