Pet another dog
“Pretend you’re leaning down to pet a dog.” This was my ski instructor’s advice for shifting my body weight from ski to ski as I glided down the hill. (Ok, “glided” is a generous description.)
After many hours at ski school petting imaginary dogs, I started to understand the body mechanics of downhill skiing. It doesn’t mean I could do them.
On every lift ride up the hill, I’d give myself a pep talk, “This time you won’t fall. You’ve got this.” My patient instructor followed behind me in his bright red snowsuit yelling out pointers. “Pet another dog! Pizza! Now pet ANOTHER dog!”
I’d pet a dog too hard, fail to pizza and land on my ass.
On day two, I wasn’t sure I had the mental fortitude to continue. My gentleman friend is a natural on the slopes and I thought I could become his trusty, but slow, mountain companion. That’s what a good girlfriend does, right?!
As we rode the lift together, I silently gave myself the pep talk. I inched down the hill and muttered, “pet another dog,” under my breath. I fell twice. I became discouraged. I realized I simply was not having fun. I got to the bottom of the hill and said, “I’m done. I’ll meet up with you later.”
Apres Ski Sadness
I sat in a comfy chair in the lodge with a beer, my iPad and a face full of tears. I was so sad. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t enjoy skiing? There were literally hundreds of people around me appearing to have the time of their lives.
I’m familiar enough with my emotions to recognize my tears stemmed from disappointment. This whole vacation was designed specifically for this activity, and the voices in my head told me I was a boring, unfun failure of a girlfriend who ruined the trip. I knew it wasn’t rational, but I couldn’t pull myself out of it.
I became resentful of the 5-year-olds for whom it’s socially acceptable to publicly cry about their dissatisfaction with skiing.
It wasn’t until several hours and one massive emotional breakdown later that I became resolved on one simple (and obvious) fact:
I don’t have to like everything.
More often than we realize, we put pressure on ourselves to pursue things we deep-down simply don’t want.
Why do we do this?
I thought of a few reasons…
Good ol’ fashioned peer pressure. Everyone else likes/owns/attends/uses/drinks/wears the <thing> and I should too. While it doesn’t quite feel the same as peer pressure did in seventh grade, it’s still very real.
We have an idealized image of who we believe we are. If something doesn’t line up with that image, it’s a threat to the identity we’ve created for ourselves. (“Fun girlfriends ski! I’m not fun!”)
And for me, the biggest reason…We don’t want to let other people down. Maybe it’s the people pleaser in me, but this reason always feels the heaviest. The majority of my sadness came from being worried I was disappointing my man. (Even though I had zero evidence of this being true.)
These reasons resonate the most for me, but you likely have your own. We all walk around with an internal monologue about how everyone has it figured out but us. But I assure you, there are more people having their version of an “apres ski cry” than you think.
I’ll say it again - you don’t have to like everything. You don’t have to want things other people want. I know this isn’t revelatory news, but it helps to be reminded from time to time
Or in ski instructor terms: There are a lot of dogs out there. Not every dog will be one you want to pet. You can always pet another dog.
Are you putting a lot of pressure on yourself? Let’s start to release it…
Say or write the belief you’re having. Get it out of your brain! (the longer it lives inside your head, the more emotionally charged it becomes)
Where is it coming from? One of the reasons above, or one of your own?
What fears or insecurities does this belief provoke? Which ones especially trigger your emotions?
How true are those fears? Where have you seen evidence of those NOT being true?
What would help you untangle those fears? What’s one step you can take?
