On Monday, my last day to ski, Jon called me fearless, which was the perfect way to cap off a perfect day. I was having the best time, skiing fast and maintaining control. My legs didn’t hurt, I was just the right temperature and I was having so much fun. I was approaching the slopes for the first time since medicating for anxiety and it was fantastic. I ski fairly well because I grew up doing it. Since I could walk I’ve had skis strapped to my feet, so I’ve never been afraid of it. What I grew to be afraid of was getting hurt, so I spent the last few years skiing like I was new to it, hesitating, going slow, having to work up the courage to take that first tip off the top of the hill.
I just can’t fully express how different this trip was. I fell asleep in a car! I sat in a lift chair and didn’t close my eyes and hang on tight! I only clutched the oh-shit bar in the truck, like, twice! I may have finally become the traveling companion that people are eager to take on vacations.
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