Drowning
Somewhere between the rain, the bugs, fatigue and the lack of friction and a (reliable) climbing partner, my psyche, my desire, my motivation to climb has simply disappeared. I’m sick of people that are full of shit, I’m sick of stress. I’m tired of depression and tired of being tired. Two of my fingers ache for reasons unknown and all of my tension is collecting in the muscles of my back. Week after week, I watch the decent weekend weather pass me by as I seek out something else to occupy my time due to the lack of a belayer. My projects at Rumney aren’t going anywhere, but the endurance that I had built up by the end of spring is long gone. My strength has ebbed away and all I’m left with is frustration. I realize that I’m primarily a boulderer because I’m an outcast, but there’s only so much energy I can give before I’m in need of someone else’s excitement. After all, I can only push myself so far in isolation. I try so hard to look forward to fall and the cooler weather, but in a way, Pawtuckaway feels stale. There are only so many problems left to try that are in the realm of the possible and I can’t help but feel a diminishing return. Part of the enjoyment comes from the sessioning with friends, the shared psyche, the swapping of beta, and most days I can’t even find a spotter. I almost feel like a failure as a human being. Is there something I’m missing?
