I was nine when I got my first taste of climbing at a local summer camp. It was one of those magical, ‘love at first sight’, cue brilliant fireworks as time stands still kind of moments. Over the past 26 years, climbing has become my best friend, my confidant, my stress reliever, my destroyer, my enemy, my encourager and, ultimately, my healer. I know climbing isn’t a person – it can’t have personality characteristics, so it can’t be the things that I have mentioned – or can it?

There are days when climbing is that gentle friend that allows you to take it easy and do routes you have done countless times before – you know every hold, every loose rock, every plant that is sticking out of the cracks. It lets you take it easy and reassures you that you will be able to top out on your favorite faithful route time after time.

There are also days when you struggle. And climbing knows that to have a breakthrough it’s going to have to push you. It’s going to have to let that hold that looks and feels so perfect break away from the wall (and maybe a spider jumps out into your face). It knows that without these obstacles you’re never going to grow. Your skills are never going to get fine-tuned and you’re never going to push yourself to the limit of ‘what if?” It knows you’re going to get up and try again.

In 2006, I was leading (taking the rope up with me to set it up) a route. Things were going great – I made all the clips, got to the top, secured myself and then I started feeling strange. I slowly set the anchor up, made sure everything was safe and I remember my friends asking if I was ok and assured them I only needed a minute to catch my breath. The next thing I knew my face was scraping against the rock and my friend was lowering me to the ground. I learned two lessons that day: 1. I needed to buy a helmet. 2. Sometimes I forget to breathe when I climb and I pass out. Now I chew gum to help me remember to breathe. It took me about a year to get up the nerve to lead a route again.

In 2015, climbing was my destroyer. It let me down and left me scarred, emotional and traumatized. I was out climbing with a friend and something happened. Something that you hope will never happen to you or anyone you know. I’m not sure if it were user error, gear failure or a combination of the two. I was at the top of the cliff and my friend went to rappel down and that’s when it happened – I watched him fall 30 feet to the ground and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I felt sick to my stomach and called 911. I got down to my friend and people were helping him – luckily, a nurse and a doctor were in the area climbing. By the end of the ordeal, he had cracked a vertebrae, lacerated his liver, punctured his lung, fractured his ankle and cut his elbow. It was a miracle he was alive and went on to make a full recovery.

What’s the point of these two scary stories? Until these pivotal days, climbing had been safe for me and I was fearless. These days broke me. Something I held so dear had betrayed me and left me sick. The thought of being at height nauseated me, being on a roof to change air filters caused panic attacks, watching the scene in Mission Impossible where Tom Cruise is hanging on the side of the building in Dubai almost gave me a heart attack. I couldn’t watch people climb, rappel or do anything up off the ground. I had to close my eyes too many times while attending the screenings for the Reel Rock and Banff Mountain Film Festivals because it showed people falling. My most favorite thing to do was now causing me anxiety, sickness and dread.

But in these same moments, the rocks were calling to me. “Naomi, it’s healthy to be scared and have fear – you can’t take safety for granted and you need to come back to me, I am still your friend.”

Two years after the accident I had enough courage to answer those calls. “Hello, climbing, I have missed you ever so much. I want to be your friend again but you make my stomach turn, can we take it easy and get to know each other again slowly?”

Anxiety.

Nervousness.

I have come to learn that having these emotions does not make you weak; it doesn’t make you less of a person. It means you’re healthy.

It would have been far easier to walk away from climbing and leave it in my past, allowing the fear and anxiety to consume me. I’m a stubborn redhead. Don’t tell me that I can’t do It – so instead, I embraced it. Climbing has, again, become my encourager- to keep fighting, keep pushing myself, to keep healing. It reminds me to never give up and all things are possible if you are willing to be humbled and start over from the beginning.

In my job at Camp Fire Camp El Tesoro, I often deal with youth who are afraid. Afraid of trying something new, afraid of bugs, afraid of being away from home – and sometimes, afraid of climbing our challenge course tower. Because of my experiences with my own fear, I’m a better instructor and a better mentor. I love that Camp Fire programs teach youth to overcome their own obstacles and go forward in life, confident and stronger.

Naomi Healy is the Retreats and Rentals Coordinator at Camp El Tesoro. She has been working in youth development since 2002. In 2014, she left the United States to pursue a lifelong dream to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer. Naomi served in the Republic of Moldova in Eastern Europe, where she worked with a local youth organization to promote positive youth involvement, community engagement, taught English lessons at the local library and worked with a small summer camp to expand their programming. She holds a Bachelor of Science in kinesiology from Angelo State University, an EC-6 and ESLCertification, and is an International Prevention Specialist and a Red Cross Instructor.