When my son’s Cub Scout troop scheduled a ropes course, I was all in.
I’d done these a million times – first as a kid, then plenty as an adult. I told everyone how excited I was, how much fun it would be, how I couldn’t wait to climb up into the trees again.
And then…I got up there.
It turns out, I’m older than the last time I did this. (And apparently a little less fearless, too.)
This course was different. On every other one I’ve done, there was always someone at each platform clipping me in, unclipping me, making sure I was safe. This time, we were on our own. We had to clip ourselves in and out. We had to remember when to use the trolley for the zip line.
It felt like a lot.
I watched my husband take our 7-year-old son off on one course, while my daughter and I paired up on another. She went first, her friend a few platforms ahead yelling back, “It’s scary—but you can do it!” (Thanks, kid.)
We had already tackled several challenges – some tough, all fun – and then it happened. My daughter froze, stuck in the middle of an element about 50 feet in the air.
She was scared. She said she couldn’t. She was tired.
And I found myself coaching her – out loud, and in truth, also coaching myself.
“You’ve got this.”
“You can do hard things.”
“Maggie did it, so you can, too.”
“You’ve already done part of it. You can do more.”
“One step at a time.”
“Don’t look at what’s hard or scary. Just look where you’re going.”
“You’re safe. Your mind is telling you otherwise, but you are safe.”
She eventually made it across. And then it was my turn. And let me tell you – it was hard. My arms were shaking. I wanted to stop, too. But I couldn’t. Not for her. Not for me. Not for my ego.
And that’s when I remembered something a mentor once said:
“You’re deciding it has to be hard.”
I realized in that moment – I was the one making it heavy. I was the one looking ahead and deciding that what was coming next would be hard, that it would take everything I had, that maybe I couldn’t do it.
And when you decide something is hard, it will be.
It’s the same lesson I see over and over again in my coaching practice, especially with parents in leadership roles: we tell ourselves that balancing it all has to be hard. That being present with our kids while excelling at work has to be hard. That slowing down has to be hard.
And because we decide it’s hard, it becomes hard. What if, instead, we made a new decision?
What if we chose to believe that it could be easy, or at least, lighter?
That maybe it’s not about being fearless up in the trees, but about noticing when our minds tell us stories that make things heavier than they need to be.
So I’ll leave you with this question – the same one I’m still asking myself after that ropes course:
👉 Where are you deciding it has to be hard? And what would shift if you decided it could be easier instead?