Upper Mountain Relationships
I was thrilled to find myself at the top of the mountain after several weeks of slogging through challenging emotional terrain, wondering if I’d ever feel the thrill of feeling good again.
A couple of months ago, a dating experience woke me up. Suddenly, I felt alive in a way I didn’t know was possible. Then, before I knew it, my dating partner disengaged, and I found myself in an existential crisis that repeatedly knocked me to my knees. There was lots of crying, panicking, questioning, fear of rejection and abandonment.
I chose to allow myself to feel all I was feeling. After many weeks, when I was ready, I decided to go to the mountains and do something I love and enjoy: ski with good friends.
View of Eagle Ridge from the top of the Canadian Rockies Express chair lift at Marmot Basin—where I learn my injured knee is in excellent shape.
When first on my skis, I recognized that skiing in the mountains was more than a way to feel better after feeling crappy—I was there to test a knee that I injured five years ago. One knee has a tiny strand of the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) left and a torn meniscus. Surgery was an option, but it was likely that rehab would be as successful as surgery if I committed to the rehab exercises. I chose the latter. Two years ago, just before the pandemic hit my part of the world, I skied with great apprehension, thrilled with being able to ski. I didn’t push it.
Two weeks ago, I found new confidence on my skis. I HAD IT. It was as though I hadn’t lost five years of skiing time. My body was thrilled with its competence on skis. I was confident on my skis, able to push it. These knees—my ski knees—are in good shape, and my ski legs are back.
And because the mountain has a sense of humour, my dating partner—the one who rejected me—was also on the mountain, inviting me to the lower chalet for drinks. My resolve to have no contact for a few weeks, to help me get off my emotional knees, was tested.
A choice
When I’m on the mountain to ski, I’m on the mountain to ski. I will stop to rest and eat or warm up, but I do not stop to lounge in the chalet when there is skiing to do. I’ve had this clarity long before this dating experience.
My options: do what makes me feel good now (ski) or prolong the painful experience of a hope trap, hoping that something more than friends could come (when it was clear it would not). To make my choice, I checked in with the purposes I had set out for myself that weekend: to engage in an activity that feels good (skiing), spend time with people who make me feel good about myself (my friends), and keep a healthy distance from the person involved in my hurting heart, to make space for “good feeling” in my life.
Here’s my reply to the invitation to drink in the lower chalet: “Look up, look waaaaaay up, and that’s where you’ll find me. In the awesome snow.”
Views from the top of the mountain
I chose to ski at the top of the mountain, not lounge on the lower mountain, and flashes of insight kept popping into my awareness. I learned that my knee is strong and capable. I felt confident, vigorous, and energized on my skis, my body navigating and moving with skill and speed down the mountain. I was reminded that skiing isn’t something I like to do; it is something I love to do. My whole being feels fantastic when I’m skiing on the mountain. It is a priority for me to ski in the coming years and decades.
Further, it became evident that I wish to ski at the top of the mountain, ski to the fullest of my ability, push my limits, and continue to improve my skills. I’m generalizing here, but upper mountain means expert skier, and lower mountain means novice skier. An “upper mountain person,” whether they are a skier or not, does not invite or expect me to lower my skiing experience. The point is this: the people closest to me either spend time with me on the upper mountain or are happy to be on their own on the lower mountain.
“I believed I could not discern another’s relationship skills in the dating world or otherwise.”
From the top of the mountain, I explored two limiting beliefs I hold about myself related to my dating experience. I am very capable of discerning others’ skiing skills and suggesting places to ski that they would enjoy. I assess their competence, what they can do on skis, and their confidence, what they feel capable of doing.
My dating experience shook my confidence to discern and trust my assessment of another person’s relationship skills. Just as I can assess a skier’s ability in a non-judgemental way, I capably assess people’s relationship skills in my personal and professional life. Yet, I did not do this effectively with my dating partner. When they disengaged, and I crumbled to my knees in distress, the first limiting belief became apparent: I believed I could not discern another’s relationship skills in the dating world or otherwise. In addition, another dark secret was unearthed: I have the expertise to help others be in relationships with each other, but I do not exercise that same expertise fully on my behalf with others. Embedded in this is the belief that I am unworthy of quality relationships.
“I have the expertise to help others be in relationships with each other, but I do not exercise that same expertise fully on my behalf with others. Embedded in this is the belief that I am unworthy of quality relationships.”
Depth for a better view
Several weeks ago, I spoke about my distress and sadness with a friend. She asked: Do you feel like you’re done climbing that mountain? The gift of her question was the realization that I wasn’t climbing; I was descending. My emotional exploration of the dating experience pulled me down into dark places. Then I’d pop back up for a bit only to drop again.
My friend’s question had new meaning from the top of the mountain: I need to descend to climb. I need an emotional descent to appreciate a new emotional view. Depth is required to offer a new perspective, and dark is required to appreciate the light. I’m not in a descend or climb situation; I am in a descend and climb situation. Descending is about an emotional experience, while the climb is about perspective.
Upper mountain skills
After being on my emotional knees for weeks, I had clear instructions for myself: engage in an activity that feels good (skiing), spend time with people who make me feel good about myself (my friends), and keep a healthy distance from the person involved in my hurting heart. I was following those instructions—the skiing felt amazing with new confidence in my knee and legs, time with my friends was nourishing, and I had distance from my dating partner—when the mountain intervened: “You want to keep your distance from so-and-so? Ha! I will deliver them to you because it’s not as easy as leaving town for the weekend. There’s something more for you to learn with so-and-so.”
We ended up on the mountain at the same time, but the mountain also arranged for a mutual friend (skiing with so-and-so) to serve as a bridge between our upper and lower mountain worlds. I didn’t have to see so-and-so, only engage in a quick exchange by text message. It was gentle contact, not jarring, and it led to a beautiful new understanding from the top of the mountain, creating the conditions for me to leave the despair and sadness behind.
From the top of the mountain, I began to understand that my dating partner and I have quite different relationship skills. There’s nothing wrong with this person, yet we are not a match. We are in an upper mountain / lower mountain situation regarding relationship skills. Where I expected to express feelings and talk about anything openly, be in a relationship to the fullest of my ability, explore new terrain, push my limits, and improve my relationship skills, my dating partner was content to use a few skills and not challenge themself. While I looked for connection and shared experiences to explore what “we” could be, they said they wanted emotional connection yet kept their emotional distance.
“I’m looking for someone with upper mountain relationship skills.”
I have a default setting that often serves me well and sometimes does not; I engage in magical thinking, which means I think people are more capable than they are. I don’t look close enough to interpret what they are doing or saying accurately. A positive: I trust people to be who they say they are and do what they say they will do. A negative: I trust people to be who they say they are and do what they say they will do. With a view from the top of the mountain, informed by being on my emotional knees and the confidence of strong ski legs, I now know that if I want to find a top of mountain relationship, I must exercise my relationship skills for my personal use, close in, as close in as possible. I’m looking for someone with upper mountain relationship skills.
Reflection
What activities do you love to do that make you feel profoundly energized?
What qualities of "upper mountain relationship skills" do you look for in the people closest to you?
How do you assess others' relationship skills?