This is a reflection paper I wrote when I was in the middle of my practicum for my Masters degree. I used the metaphor of climbing a mountain to describe the journey one takes when they embark on accomplishing something new, something hard, something totally worth the climb:

In one of my recent practicum placement seminars, we were asked to come up with a metaphor for what our journey throughout our internships has looked like. The first thing I wanted to say was “A TORNADO! UTTER CHAOS! THINGS FLYING EVERYWHERE!” When I sat with it for a bit longer, I decided it didn’t truly fit. Practicum has been more like a really gruelling, long, and infinitely rewarding hike. 

When you first look up at the mountain from the bottom, the first thoughts are about this exciting climb, the sheer nerves of approaching a mountain you haven’t climbed before and not really knowing what the journey will entail. Did you bring enough snacks? Do you have enough time? When will inevitable voice of “why on earth did you decide this was a good idea?!” appear. So, you start climbing the mountain, because you’ve already come all this way, other people know you said you were going to climb the mountain, you prepared a really long time for the hike. There is nothing left to do, but to do it. 

There’s a bit of stumbling as you get your hiking legs, imagine this to be akin to sea legs. You have some immediate thoughts of “who do I think I am, planning this crazy hike, do I even really like hikes? What if I stop now and go get some ice cream instead?” but you keep going because you know if you give up before you actually start, you’ll regret it, feel defeated, and likely just feel a burning desire to do it again later because you are a strong person, you do really like hikes, and ice cream is more rewarding after you’ve made it to the top. 

Once you get a good pace going, you start feeling a bit better, grow some confidence, maybe even some pep to your step. The hike is a little harder than you anticipated, the elevation gains quickly, but you’re no stranger to hard work and you’ve done your homework so you know you can manage. Heck, you even enjoy the challenge, not a lot of people would do this hike, but you know what lies at the top of the mountain and you’re determined to make it to that view. 

You carry on up, you feel this hike truly is out of your comfort zone, you feel some pride about it, but there is another feeling too, trepidation. The sun is beating on you from overhead, you realize you’re going to have to keep up your pace if you want to make it to the top before sundown, you feel tired. You’ve come so far, and yet you still have some ways to go. You ponder if you really are cut out for hiking, if other people are struggling in the same way as you to make it to the top, if you were to go back down, would you ever try again? You swallow those feelings, give yourself a break for a pep talk, reciting a few of the phrases you learned from reading Kristin Neff’s book about Self-Compassion such as, “what would your compassionate self say?” and “I have the inner strength to handle my distress” (Neff, 2013). Once you get back up on your now shaky and tired legs, you find a renewed sense of hope, of encouragement, and what can only be described as some hard-earned grit. 

The rest of the hike isn’t easy by any means, but you know you’re almost there, you’ve caught a second wind, okay, maybe a third or fourth wind, and you’re ready to ride it out until the end. Not every step is pretty, but you’ve found a rhythm that works for you. You’ve got some blisters, a few bruises and bumps, you might need some better hiking boots next time around, but this is your first really big climb, and you’re still learning new things. The tree line is breaking, you can see pure mountain rock, you’re very near the top, the sense of relief is overwhelming. You feel like you might collapse, or cry, or laugh, or all three. 

You arrive to the top with a slight sense of bewilderment. You take in the view you could barely imagine, and one you, at times, doubted you would ever see. You have mixed emotions that are intensified by your fatigue. Pride for having made it, frustration for having ever doubted yourself, humbleness due to the struggle, and happiness. This experience has made you wiser, more grateful, and brought you great fortitude. 

As you take it all in, you’re careful to remember the struggle that just took place. Sometimes when you make it to the top of a new mountain you forget the work that you put in. You’re humbled by the vastness of the land, by the fact that you have touched merely a grain of sand amongst all the beaches. Yet here you are, at the very top of a mountain that is older than time, and that has withstood all the changes of the Earth. The mountains you climb have a way of making you feel small and large all at the same time.  

It’s like that with doing anything hard. Recovering from having your heart broken for the first time, moving out on your own, finishing an undergraduate degree, doing a Masters degree and finishing a beast of a practicum to arrive at the beginning of achieving your dream of becoming a therapist. This is the metaphor I will remember when I do hard things. When I give birth this coming winter, when I embark on the journey of parenthood, when I get my first job as a therapist, and beyond. This has been without a doubt my hardest mountain, and I will have a lot of mountains to climb in this life. I will approach them the same as I did this one, with determination, excitement, a smidgen of confidence, and a whole lot of self-compassion. 

Neff, K. (2013). Self compassion. London: Hodder & Stoughton.