I certainly did not climb a mountain this weekend.
I did, however, hike up a tall hill with a steep face. I am in no shape to do so, and threatened to die several times. It was a good experience metaphor for my last few weeks:
I am not in shape to take my next step in recovery. It is hard and uphill the whole way. I will trip a few times and nearly tumble down the hill. I will have to pause occasionally and catch my breath. I will need friends and family to help me along (or call 911 if I get snakebit). I will think I might not make it, then I will push on. I will not see the top until I am nearly there, so I will have no idea how long this will take or how far I will have to go.
I made a really brave move when I decided to get back into fighting shape, to push myself past my present, comfortable plateau in which I am not living out my purpose. I know there is better for me. I have been wanting better for me. Now I am willing to work on better for me.
Time to lace up the shoes and start up that hill (that looks like a mountain from here).