Aged fourteen and fifteen, I went with my best friend on the school outdoor activities week to Snowdonia in Wales... in November . I wasn't sure I wanted to go but she was, school was easier if she was there and she didn't want to be alone on the trip, so I paid my fees, packed my rucksack and got on the bus.

We were the only girls the first year - I was shocked , it was bloody freezing, wet every day, our dorm was cold and the radio alarm call at 6am wasn't funny - making a marmite or jam sandwich lunch pack before being told our activities for the day was all part of the deal. It was the mid eighties, before health and safety, before snowflake mentality and looking back it was almost hilarious in a sick kind of way - it was definitely brutal .

Comfort zones did not exist - nothing was easy, rock climbing began with climbing huge boulders that threw me off and cut my skin through the trousers I wore - I wiped the blood away and limped to the huge rock face to get strapped into a harness and hooked up, I navigated through the tree growing in the crevice half way up, hung on by my finger tips to finally reach the top - I wasn't sure if I was still shaking from falling off the boulder, that I'd survived the stupid tree, that I was high up or that I'd got there to see my only way down....

Abseil.... As an adult that makes sense, back then - not so much, I'd not seen it in that context before  I looked at the others and figured sod it, if that's the only way off the top, hook me up I'm going down, in fact I'm pretty sure I went straight to the front of the line and volunteered to be first .

As I leaned back and followed instructions on what to do, I loved it - woohoo, this was great, maybe even easy! I stopped walking and started bouncing down like the SAS do until I bounced right into a big rock indent and started swinging... Seriously not so funny! Orders were shouted and I found my way back to a rock edge and walked down...

Had anyone explained to us that was the way down before I went up? Come to think of it, who sets up an abseil route for kids where half way down no rock to walk down even exists?  I was down, I didn't care - they moved the rope to the right for everyone else after learning from my horror.

Apparently there was a path down? I don't remember seeing that choice but to be fair, I know now that I was in such a state of shock and fear I wouldn't have been thinking very rationally or seeing clearly  a big neon sign would have helped and it did - here's a rope! I saw nothing else and had the harness not been empty ready for volunteer number one as I arrived on the top, I might have stripped it off whoever had it on .

The next day we were sized up for wellie boots - a day of gorge walking. Yes, let's walk for two hours down a slippery slate path to the bottom of a waterfall type ravine then climb back up in wellies - through the 'waterfall'. Team building they called it, I had another name for it. I learned there are three i's in individual and it's OK to be stood on if it helps someone else up 

Take a torch the instructions said, mum thought it was just for finding the loo at night but oh no, it was so they could drop us off in the middle of bloody nowhere at ten o'clock, in the pitch dark (trust me, Wales has no idea what a street light is even today) and find our way home... We had a map...each other, What more did we need? Teacher support maybe 

My piddly little torch was the size of a candle, not so useful on this exercise. It wasn't so helpful when we did pot holing either, as I squeezed between rock faces mice would have struggled with - it didn't take up space but it didn't do a lot either. The wire rope that straddled the underground lake we met was the only way through - how do we cross it the instructor asked? 

Hmm, let me think, with a fucking boat you maybe have tucked up your arse I might ask now - not then. No, we had to slink across and not fall in or let our back packs get wet . To be fair, by this point I remember I quite liked the challenge, I found myself seriously rising to beat the obstacles, it didn't feel there was ever a choice to say no - we probably couldn't, in the darkness that wire rope was the only way forward and noone was offering to take us back the way we came. It was tough. Fall in that freezing cold lake and it was still a long cold walk back to the mini-bus 

The mountain climb needed ice picks, walking boots, hats and gloves. As we climbed the slippery slate path up this time, one foot in front of the other the top was a distant torment - my jam sandwich was long gone before I reached the summit and bottles of water in 1984 didn't exist - high up, the stream was ice cold and tasted good though.

We climbed the ice, used the picks and walked in two foot of snow at the top - what a view, even then I appreciated it. The sudden fog seemed to arrive out of nowhere and did more than just spoil our snow ball fight - a rush to the bottom was a journey I never want to repeat, not because I could really see a danger but because our instructor seemed to be panicking .

There was no Internet, no mobile phones, weather forecast minute by minute, no option to stop or pull out... No helicopter rescue then either. None of us died but most of us felt it would have been an easier option. 

We were at the mercy of our instructors, relying on their knowledge and character type; to be helpful, kind and empathic essentially, to always do the right thing by us regardless but that wasn't how they were, they were a character type that few people understand even now, let alone then . None of us can know what we don't know but when we do know, we wish we could rewind the clock, do it all again and see how different the outcome might be if we had known and therefore behaved differently. 

Now I won't be Bullied, coerced or intimidated, I'm not fourteen or fourty eight or nine for that matter ....

One morning the group was split in two and making lunch also included packing a dinner and breakfast - my group did an expedition to walk bloody miles over lakes and mountains all day to a tiny, damp, dark stone hut in the middle of nowhere and camp. Girls and teachers slept on the ground floor on two double "mattresses" or gym mats and the boys lined the roof space like sardines in their sleeping bags. We were so exhausted noone spoke but in the middle of the night, in the pitch black - bump!

One rolled over and one fell out - Michael had fallen through the trap door and landed on the stone floor next to my friend, sleeping bag intact. We laughed... Far too much in hindsight. The loo was a chemical one and it needed to be emptied, the contents buried before we headed off that morning.... Definitely a job for the students 

I watched through the window as Michael carried the bucket - His "punishment" for admitting he had pooped whilst there, I genuinely hadn't and believed everyone else that said the same were truthful, why wouldn't I believe them? Half way down the hill he tripped on a stone and the bucket of slop covered him from head to toe... Oh how we laughed at that....

It was a long smelly walk home for us all that day and poor Michael was the butt of everyone's jokes. My point? Not sure yet. Life's hard and if we don't die we do survive, we do learn something from it eventually. Maybe we learn more than we think at the time though, maybe the experience changes us to face life in a way we wouldn't have before then.

Part 2


Given a choice to stop, back out, say no on any day or during any activity - would I have chosen it? To be honest, probably not, not least because of how it would look to others or I'd have caused a problem for everyone and/or embarrassed myself, I was excited to try it all until the reality of each day, pressure of each activity kicked in but by then pride or fear of humiliation took over....

I've learned it's the complete lack of choice that changes the perception of any task, potentially the outcome and definitely how we feel about the outcome whichever way it goes. 

I read once that evil could be defined as the removal of choice - I definitely chose to go both times but because I didn't want to be left at school without her (not a fear of missing out) did I truly want to experience it all? Not sure I truly knew what I was signing up to - not sure she did either but I do think she preferred to not be at home or at school 

I can't say we were bullied into doing anything whilst we were there either however it was made clear refusal to take part wasn't an option. The instructors held the power and we were children without a voice, concerns were dismissed and feelings invalidated however they were shown because it suited them to steam roller through - they had a job to do. Don't get me wrong, we had two teachers there but I think they were as afraid of the instructors and out of their depth as we were and I don't remember them walking in the dark with us, slinking across a wire rope or navigating a stupid tree half way up a rock face 

I learned to push through, beat the obstacles, rise to the challenge, be strong and show no emotional pain, no vulnerability or fear because, as I learned throughout my life, it would be invalidated if I did and mostly ignored - Great learning experience . I learned my survival mode.

"Believe in yourself" they say, I know I have achieved whatever I've put my mind to, I haven't done any of it because I believed I could, I believed in me - I've done it because I've felt or known I've had no choice. 

Those activities were something I've thought of so often in my life, even today I'm still learning something from it all. Now I know Michael was physically and emotionally hurt, back then it was just funny - he took it well, was self deprecating and humorous but I remember he was the laid back kind of character that could do that, he was thoughtful, kind, helpful to everyone and took the heat with good grace. I recounted the tale a few times to be fair without really understanding what I was saying. 


Part 3

The day we learned to canoe pretty much epitomises life and the trip itself I think - we played in the calm waters, the sun shone and we learned to stand up in our canoes - it was cold but it was fun, fairly easy even. We had spent hours gently meandering in the canoe, it was warm, paddling gently, getting the feel of it and feeling good about it all then suddenly our calm water entered into the big wide lake, the sun disappeared and we had to get to the other side they said... OK I said.

It was windy and cold on the open water and my arms were so tired by midway I started doing circles, I saw going back was as far as carrying on, I decided to carry on, I didn't want to be the only one to fail. As I reached the rocks on the other side, so relieved I'd made it, I'd survived 

Then the instructor barked down at me to hold the canoe sides evenly and push myself out - stand up. My arms were like jelly and as I found myself swimming to the top, holding my canoe and paddle I'm sure I wondered if this man was even human? I'd had enough.

He reached down and pulled me and the canoe out, I was so relieved - it was over, I could get on the bus and go back but no, to my horror he told me to get back in the canoe, freezing cold even with a woolley jumper under my wet suit as they'd told us to do, then pushed the canoe onto the rock and said this was a rock entry - then pushed me, like everyone else, back in  seriously - I couldn't believe I landed right side up but by that point I was so shocked and numb I just paddled.. And prayed.

As an adult I've sat in meetings, prepared for scary mental situations, faced problems and scenarios where my heart has pounded in fear, I've stood in front of hundreds of people to speak out, my voice shakey with nerves, my palms wet with fear and I've wanted to run but in my head I could say, it's not a rock face, it's not a windy lake, it's not an underground wire rope over a freezing lake and it's helped - I'd grit my teeth, dig deep and get stuck in, face it down .

I also knew in all those situations that I was choosing them. Yet at another level, was I? It seems other people have believed in me more than I have, they saw what I could do and I did it. It wasn't that they didn't see the fear I felt, I am sure they didn't care how I felt as long as I did what they needed me to do. So in the end, have I always been more afraid of the rocks, the cold lake, the fog on the mountain or just saying no to a person that didn't want to hear it?


Part 4

In all I learned from school, with hindsight those two weeks taught me more about me, shaped my personality and foundation on how to meet challenges head on than the eleven years combined did - it was definitely character building. I didn't know it at the time of course - I'm sure Michael definitely didn't. I was with a bunch of other people I spent pretty much every day with back at school, we didn't hang out with each other but we had a new found mutual respect for each other after that.

The second year many more girls joined in, the same boys turned out and little had changed with the climate or the challenges but the mentality didn't feel quite so extreme - was I better prepared or had things changed? For sure the dynamics between the participants had changed - what a difference a year makes 

I was friends with all, the highly popular and the not so liked. I was in the middle of everyone it seemed - boys and girls because I couldn't often see what some people claimed not to like about others . I carried that view as I left school too, it wasn't niavity so much as innocence in that I took people at face value and if I liked them, I liked them. I asked nothing of anyone except their company which I enjoyed until I didn't and even then, I'd just leave them alone, speak to others and let it go - it was my choice. That was it - no drama in my mind, just move on.

I learned to add up and take away at school, I learned to write nicely, to spell properly, to type fast, speak French and I could read well, I could draw well too. Science was always a subject I struggled with - especially physics, wtf was all that about anyway? As I've got older I've enjoyed it more - righty tightly lefty loosy .

I was predicted to fail English language (no imagination for fiction - I never could just make things up) but on the exam day I wrote about my day of "community help" something I'd chosen to do weekly to get out of physical education every Wednesday afternoon in my last year of school.

My long flamingo legs and asthma had taken their toll by fifteen, humiliation was not my thing especially in winter when cross country was a weekly possibility ; I excelled in netball, rounders, tennis, swimming, high jump even but running fast or slow over distance, hockey, gymnastics - no, my body didn't do that and I hated the seriously short gym skirts and feared any comments from the boys that stared. The older I got, the more aware I became and the more uncomfortable I was with it all.

So my assignment had me walking two miles with my best friend through town to a primary school where we listened to five year olds read, we supervised and helped out. As a treat, as a thank you () we were both invited on their school trip as helpers  my experience got me an A+ on my English language exam, I'd written from the heart, probably was adjudicated by a woman who absolutely saw the funny side and knew the challenges, had empathy with all I'd experienced - she heard me.

People help us, they shape us, they hurt us inadvertently or with intent for whatever reason, push us to achieve and be better and define what other people see and hear of us - that's what I think I believed, now I see it slightly differently. Now I know not all people help with having good intentions for us as much as helping themselves at our cost. In not knowing that, I got out of life what I needed - always having the best belief in everyone I've met has hurt me but it's helped me more now.

Absolutely the world has shown me who I am but now I finally see who they are too.
Our minds package all that has happened, that hurts us so much, into a story - funny or tragic, to make it make sense and that's it. That's the story to recount - no pain to be felt, nothing more to learn, to see let alone a lesson to learn and understand something from.

Patterns do repeat, people do do the same things over and over hoping for a different outcome each time and for those that don't look deeper, see what's wrong, take responsibility for their part of what's happened and hurt them and make it better even, nothing will ever change.

A pearl of wisdom from a clay shooter years ago, he'd been stuck in a big queue on a cold day watching "numpty after numpty miss them all" and was apparently getting wound up by it, he was "holding court" in the clubhouse, as he was very prone to doing every week, recounting his tale of frustration and wisdom of how he couldn't stay silent any longer - had to "help the idiot" performing in front of him; I quote "look mate, if you've missed the same fucking clay in the same place three times, do something different and put the lead in a different place because putting it there again ain't going to fucking kill it either" he wasn't someone I'd ever turn to for life coaching to be fair but he was right.

For some it will be the same emotional triggers creating the same pattern of behaviour for the same outcome over and over and over again, it's like they're literally incapable of anything different because they refuse to see it in themself, anyone trying to help is wasting their time and effort if they themself won't accept they're getting it wrong and refuse to learn and not change so much as grow and evolve. We aren't all born equal thank god - some of us learn, heal and make better, wiser choices when we understand what was wrong, what our part was and put it right in whatever way is necessary.

One story links to another and there's a common thread to it all if we look back and see - the stories or chapters become a book, it makes sense eventually, but when it doesn't, it's most likely because the part that makes no sense, hasn't ended yet - there's more to come, more to understand. The final chapter is still being written.....

Right now I may as well be walking that road in Wales in the dark with a piddly little torch, I know someone's got a map, I know it's going to be OK and the walk isn't that bad - certainly not strenuous but in truth, I'd rather be doing something else, be somewhere else because whatever this part is, it doesn't feel like I'm doing something so much as it's something to do and that's a job I've never had before - maybe it's a new challenge to get to grips with .

If I keep putting one foot in front of the other the mountain top will be possible but when I get there I've no doubt some twat will spoil the view or rush me to move on or try to claim credit for their part in it all, above and beyond what I've done for myself. It's how people are and whether they do it maliciously or innocently - now I can discern the difference but in the past, no, I couldn't and I didn't. I was so used to being barked at, demanded more of, pushed to my maximum speed in everything and to me it was normal, it had happened all of my life. Survival mode is not the mode I want to live in anymore.



Conclusion

Did the activities open me up to wanting to do these things again as an adult? Absolutely not..... I think my point is that in all I've faced since Wales, and it's been a lot, I have chosen to do some crazy and fun activities since then and I have enjoyed them all until I didn't anymore, then I chose to stop. I haven't walked up any waterfalls, clung to rock faces by my finger tips, gone down dark skinny tunnels full of dripping water let alone got in a canoe. Not once have I even toyed with the idea that I might like to...

I've done some amazing jobs, put myself under tremendous stress and pressure to achieve phenomenal outcomes in every place I've ever worked, whether it's been for myself or others, I enjoyed it all at the time but fear of failing (for whatever reason) drove me harder than wanting to succeed ever did.

Succeeding was just what happened when I didn't fail, a by product almost. I've never worked to please a boss or impress anyone, I've more likely worked hard to avoid consequences. I've just seen the tasks I have at whatever level, then do what needs to be done and felt absolutely responsible for it all and everyone involved in it.

Even other people's businesses I've treated them as my own - was what I did ever appreciated? No, it was expected of me because they saw I would and I thought I could if I tried. It was a challenge to me that I believed I chose, whatever it was, but now I've stopped. No more. I've seen me.

Just because we can do something doesn't mean we should. I see that more often than not, I didn't exactly create the challenges that scared me, they were just necessary at the time, the rope over the lake - the only way through.

In just the same way that we can't know what we don't know we can't unknow what we have learned and consciously understood. I don't see I've made mistakes so much as learned what I got wrong - what not to do. I felt the fear, I did what I had to do and so far, I've lived and I've learned that what didn't kill me really didn't make me stronger so much as wiser, in less of a rush, more tolerant of myself in not being where I want to be when I want to be there because I finally accept I'll get there in the right moment and if that's not now it's because it's not the right moment - I'm not there yet.

People that have pushed me on, made me step out of my comfort zones did so whilst standing firmly within theirs and maybe if I can finally believe in myself in the way others have believed in me, if I can truly see my own potential as they've seen it and I can choose to embrace succeeding instead of being afraid of failing then maybe at last, I can have what I want, not just what I need.

In its totality what hasn't killed me has nearly crucified me but I'm still here, still breathing - we are never given more than we can handle, it just feels like it at times so when I do finally reach that mountain peak, any twat that tries to get in my way will absolutely be slung off the top in no short measure .