What bailing on my snowboard taught me about trauma
A snowboarding story that I hope helps you to better understand your sweet nervous system.
I just returned home from a week away at the snow. I love snowboarding. It’s one of my absolute favourite things to do. I’m a high sensation seeking, highly sensitive human who loves finding flow state through exhilarating physical activities that get my heart racing.
Bombing down the sides of the snow iced mountain faces of Aotearoa’s Mount Ruapehu with my lover & darling friend Ryan, was my pleasure & play last week. Oooosssh, just writing about it makes me feel turned on to life!
As much I would love to tell you about the way I made love to the mountain with the bottom of my snowboard, this love note is actually a story about an unexpected recollection of childhood trauma during our trip. Allow me to abruptly left turn into that now.
On Friday, I had actual emotional flashbacks courtesy of a T-bar.
For those of you who haven’t been on a ski field, a T-bar is a contraption that you stick between your legs, that pulls you up the side of a mountain whilst you balance atop your board or skis. Unlike a chairlift or gondola, t-bars don’t get everyone to their intended destination. It’s not uncommon to be T-bar towed past human roadkill along the paths.
A fate, I didn’t realize, I knew very well.
As soon as we drove into the parking lot of the mountain & I locked eyes on a mountainside full of t-bars & no chair lifts, I felt afraid. I also felt confused about this reaction, so I pushed it out of my mind, deciding instead to refocus on the fact that I am a pretty skilled snowboarder & would be totally fine riding the t-bars, despite their unfamiliarity.
As I skated my board down to the bottom of the t-bar queue, I started to feel myself disassociating from my body. Numb & jittery, I wondered, “what the fuck, Michelle. There are children going on this, why are you freaking out? Get your butt up that mountain already”.
One of my favourite things about myself is that I am incredibly courageous. So I borrowed from the bank of my bad-assery in this time of short supply, skated into position, grabbed the t-bar, tucked it between my legs, & held on for the ride….
Hands sweating beneath the cold exterior of my gloves, holding on for dear life, heart beating in my head, trying to regulate my system with extended exhales, feeling terrified I would fall off (which doesn’t hurt at all btw).
Whilst simultaneously, fiercely judging myself for having an emotional reaction that made absolutely no sense to my present-day self.
Halfway up the mountain, I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body was rock solid with panic.
I hit a snag on the snow & my board slid out from underneath me. So afraid to not make it, I let my butt literally be dragged literally 20 meters up the mountain whilst holding onto the t-bar with my hands, looking back upon the shocked & helpless faces of Chris, Ryan & everyone else down the line.
Once I finally let go, waves of somatic & visual memories started to land back in my conscious mind.
The word FAILURE repeatedly flashed in my mind & tore a hole through my heart. I felt hijacked by a feeling of intense public humiliation. I wanted to sob.
Memories of being on this same mountain, at 5 years old.
A holiday trip to the snow with my family, where lines were huge, & I was a brand new baby skier.
I recalled bailing, again & again, on the t-bar, whilst my Dad grew increasingly frustrated at me.
I remembered the long, long lines of impatient skiers watching me with palpable annoyance, whilst I inconvenienced them on their expensive holiday.
I remembered feeling deep shame that I’d disappointed my Dad so publicly.
I remembered feeling my body go into freeze & shut down, whilst I tried again & again, disassociated from my body, never successfully making it up the mountain.
This same emotional flashback was replaying in my system as I lay in the same snow decades later. Despite my brain being able to see that I was not actually in danger & that my t-bar bail was completely unoriginal & entirely forgivable.
I share this (now, hilarious to me) story with you all, in the hopes that it helps you to better understand how trauma lives in the body.
Present-day associations can trigger emotional flashbacks that don’t make sense in the context but make perfect sense in the history of your body. As Bessel van der Kolk says, “the body keeps the score”.
I was so deeply grateful for everything I’ve learned, that equipped me to understand, guide & love myself through that experience.
I took space, focused on the parts of my body that felt safe, did some breath work, asked my partner to acknowledge my experience, & then snowboarded down to the cafe where I found a corner to do a short meditation with my 5-year-old self.
After doing so, I had enough inner resource to get back onto the mountain & make those T-bars my bitch! By the end of the day, I was cruising up those slopes completely relaxed, feeling victorious, & damn proud of myself for the way I offered myself grace in a situation it would have been so easy to fall into a shame & blame spiral.
With fierce love & so much pleasure,
Michelle