Episode 45: The Letter
Rebecca spent hours of her childhood, outside on her front lawn, catching caterpillars and fireflies. She was timid, liked to play alone, and was never one to venture off on her own to explore.
Growing up, her mom’s addiction to alcohol infected so much of her life, so she wrote a letter about it. Rebecca so thoughtfully describes alcoholism as feeling like she’s losing someone, even though they’re alive. Climbing became the thing that allowed Rebecca to challenge the idea of who she was, in order for her to see who she could become.
For the Love of Climbing is presented by Patagonia. Additional support is from deuter USA, Gnarly Nutrition, Allez Outdoor, and Ocún.
Music is by Chad Crouch. Additional music is licensed by Blue Dot Sessions and Music Bed.
Photograph courtesy of Kaile Schimka.
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EPISODE TRANSCRIPT:
(KATHY KARLO): This podcast is presented by Patagonia. Not bound by convention, Patagonia’s in business to save our home planet.
- This podcast is sponsored by deuter, one of the leading backpack brands that will help you hit the trails with confidence and comfort, but most importantly–your snacks.
deuter has a history of first ascents and alpine roots. Their head of product development even climbed Everest once, in jeans (hashtag not fake news.) deuter is known for fit, comfort, and ventilation. Founded in 1898, deuter believes in good fitting backpacks, so you can focus on way cooler things like puppies, pocket bacon, and gettin’ sendy, whether at the crag or in the alpine.
(FEMALE VOICE): Today we’re going to talk about “allez”. “Allez” means “come on!” in a way, or to encourage. Ok! We are done with the simple and normal uses of “allez”, now let’s cut to the chase:
(KATHY KARLO): Allez Outdoor Personal Care products are made by climbers for those who love the outdoors. Their rich and repairing ingredients for their skincare collection are inspired by desert landscapes, and their simple and recyclable packaging makes them eco-sustainable. Allez commits to protecting the open spaces that we love by partnering with the Access Fund and 1% for the Planet. That’s Allez Outdoor: “A-L-L-E-Z”). Allez Outdoor—made by climbers, for those who love the outdoors.
- This podcast gets support from Gnarly Nutrition, one of the leading protein supplements that tastes “whey” better than they need to, because they use quality natural ingredients. So, whether you’re a working mom who runs circles around your kids on weekends or an unprofessional climber trying to send that 5.13 in the gym, Gnarly Nutrition has all of your recovery needs.
The only question you need to ask yourself is: Are you a sucker for anything that tastes like chocolate ice cream? (Yeah, me neither.) Gnarly Nutrition is designed to enhance your progress—and taste like a milkshake, without all the crap.
(MALE VOICE): Ocún?
(bell dinging)
(FEMALE VOICE): No.
(MALE VOICE #2): Ocún?
(MALE VOICE #3): Nope.
(MALE VOICE #4): Ocún?
(MALE VOICE #3): Really?
(FEMALE VOICE #2): Ocún?
(NON-GENDERED VOICE): No!
(KK): Who is Ocún? More than prolific crack climbing gloves, Ocún has been making innovative gear engineered for climbing to improve your performance since 1998. Their climbing shoe designs are all original, developed and manufactured in Czech Republic and one hundred percent gender neutral. Beyond their sticky rubber, Ocún is renowned for their hardware, harnesses, and the biggest lightest crash pad on the market. Find your new favorite climbing shoes and accessories at Backcountry, Moosejaw, Camp Saver, and Amazon.
(REBECCA YOO): Hi, Kathy. I’m calling because I want to talk about a letter I wrote to my parents. It’s about doubt, addiction, and climbing, and how climbing has changed my perception of doubt and addiction.
(KK): Alcohol addiction, also known as “alcohol use disorder”, doesn’t just affect those who drink—it affects families and loved ones, too. It’s a chronic disease that not everyone who drinks will develop.
While we’ve shared stories about substance misuse before, what about loving someone who struggles with addiction?
Alcohol use disorders currently impact 17.6 million Americans. Alcohol, by far, is the most commonly misused substance in the U.S. Chances are, you already know and love someone with an AUD.
There’s no handbook on how to survive a loved one’s addiction, and their disease changes you, as Rebecca recounts her childhood and so bravely and intentionally speaks about the dichotomy that is her mother.
Being the adult child of an alcoholic parent—sucks. In a lot of ways, you get used to the heartache. But this story, Rebecca’s story, is about more than that. Growing up, her mom’s addiction infected so much of her life, so—she wrote a letter about it.
(RY): And before I get into it, I wanna let you know that I’ll be weaving direct quotes of my letter in and out of this recording, and it can be a little hard to follow. So, I wish I could layer some tunes in the background of this recording when I’m reading quotes from the letter, but I am not that fancy with technology.
You can help me with that, right?
(laughs)
Ok, here’s how it starts:
“Dear Mom and Dad —
The other day, I saw my life and death flashing before my eyes. I heard your eulogies at my funeral and witnessed the pain of tragic loss of my death.
I had fallen from a climb, and there was my dead body and all its mourners—all because of me. Because I had chosen to climb. Because I had chosen to leave my house, my safety, and my people to be in the mountains.
After this experience, I woke up one morning feeling an urgent need to write—not necessarily in case I should die, but because I felt lonely. Lonely that I haven’t shared this life-changing, beautiful, terrifying thing called climbing with you.”
That’s the first part of my letter. I haven’t really shared much about climbing with my parents, and I think most climbers don’t because parents tend to freak out about their kids doing dangerous things.
But another reason why I haven’t shared much about climbing is because of their background. My parents are immigrants. They worked really hard to raise four kids and a life of inner comfort was their goal.
Unlike a lot of my friends who grew up hiking and camping with their families, my parents raised us to work hard so that you didn’t need to sleep outside. How do you explain why you climb to parents who don’t have a concept of outdoor recreation?
As a child I was timid and scared. I wasn’t like my brother who mindlessly hopped on high curb walls or liked to hang upside down on tree branches—no. I was scared to be up high. I didn’t like to go on slides or swings. I was scared to be at the top of stairs. I was scared of bees. I was scared of basketballs. I was scared of waves at the beach.
I just wanted to feel safe all the time. And we grew up valuing safety and stability. So, I stayed timid. I grew up safely and following the rules. And then, in college, a kid from down the hall invited me to climb at the gym’s rock wall.
My friend showed me this tiny bouldering wall tucked away in the corner of the campus gym. I was definitely intimidated, but the fact that I didn’t need to go up very high and knowing I could down-climb encouraged me to give it a try. And I came back. I would go up and fall, and fall again—I fell a lot.
Side note, I have very noodle-y arms. I’m a hundred and five pounds, [I have a] runner’s build—aka “scrawny”. My parents would know more than anyone else how climbing would be the very last thing I would mentally or physically want to do. I even tried to explain the feeling of being gripped to them like this:
“It’s like when you’re coming back from the grocery [store] with one too many bags. No, three too many bags! And you’re trying to fit the key into the front door and your eggs are sliding out and there’s a bag of potatoes hanging on the last two digits of your left, shaking, sweaty hand. That’s what it felt like for me—difficult.” End quote.
But I kept coming back—this thing that defeated me and mocked me was drawing me closer, because the more I was defeated by it, the more I was amazed by the slim occasions when I did succeed. And it felt like miracles could happen again and again on the wall.
Let me put that into context. I was the type of kid who was uncoordinated, socially awkward, and especially known for it because of how unexpected it was. My three older siblings were jocks—they were athletic and popular, but I wasn’t. And it wasn’t just that I felt like I was a loser.
I had a sense of realism to my own self-judgment. I had a sense of realism to what I thought I reasonably could or couldn’t do well. Some people are talented, and some people just aren’t. And internally, I had accepted my own fate as someone who didn’t win.
That’s the internal voice of reason I was referring to in my letter. It’s that belief that tells me if I couldn’t do it in the past, I am probably just incapable of doing it. And on the wall, I generally assumed that I wouldn’t be able to finish whatever route I was working on. And that’s why it came as such a surprise for me when I did finish.
It’s kind of weird that we try things, again and again when we climb. We fail way more than we succeed, and despite the number of times we fall, we go back to that impossible sloper that, for some unknowable reason, we’ll stick.
It’s almost as if we start to believe in the slim chances of success, rather than taking the more logical approach of looking at how often we fail and letting that define our performance. This practice started changing me.
So, back to the letter. I told my parents about how my relationship with climbing started. I told them how I eventually started getting outside and met a mentor who hauled me up my first multi-pitches. I told them about the beautiful places I was able to visit.
But there was a deeper reason I wanted to talk to them about climbing. And that reason was because I wanted to share these practices that climbing has taught me with my mom, who is an alcoholic.
(ALEX HONNOLD) (to himself): Ok, I’m Alex Honnold. You’re listening to the love of climbing podcast. It’s a funny, sad, somewhat uncomfortable podcast—
(louder)
I was like, “Wow, this is the opposite of my podcast. But, you know, here we go!”
(laughs)
(upbeat music)
“I’m Alex Honnold and you’re listening to For the Love of Climbing—”
—is it “to the”? Or “to—“ Do you say “to For the Love of Climbing Podcast”?
“I’m Alex Honnold and you’re listening to For the Love of Climbing Podcast.”
Yeah. Yeah, I see it.
“You’re listening to For the Love of Climbing Podcast. This is not a climbing podcast. Well, sorta. It’s a funny, sad, and somewhat uncomfortable podcast about choosing vulnerability. Here’s the show.”
Easy cheesy!
(KK): Hey, a quick heads up. As mentioned earlier, this episode discusses alcohol misuse and addiction. Reach out for help if you’re struggling with addiction. Visit fortheloveofclimbing.com for additional resources.
And a sidebar—we are two full episodes away from wrapping up season five. The podcast is experiencing what we like to call “growing pains”. So, as we head into 2023, here are a few things you can do to help us out:
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(RY): My name is Rebecca. I’m living in Salt Lake City right now. I’m an engineer, working in the water and waste industry.
(exhales)
Man, my hands are sweating already!
(laughs)
Yeah, I actually had a really strong experience that led me to write this letter, which actually, I describe in the first part of my letter and it was an experience I had at City of Rocks. I discovered climbing in college. So, let’s see—
(chuckles quietly to self)
—that’s nine years ago! That’s crazy to say.
I started trad climbing just last season, so it’s pretty recent. And I built a trad anchor on top of one of my routes and was belaying up a friend. And I had my three pieces and as I was belaying him up, I saw one of my hexes wiggling.
And being a new trad leader and being someone who had read the whole Falcon Guide to Anchors and just followed a bunch—my brain, when I saw that wiggling hex, immediately went to—
“Oh my gosh, my anchor’s gonna blow. I’m gonna fall off this mountain. I’m gonna take my second down with me. We’re both gonna die. This is what our funeral is gonna look like. This is what my parents and his parents and everyone is saying about us.”
And I just immediately went down that dark road—
(laughs)
—of imagination when I saw that hex wiggle. So—anyways!
That experience really led me—I was just in a really weird headspace where I was thinking, “Why do I climb? Is this really worth it? What am I gonna say to my family, or even to myself, as I put myself into these dangerous—potentially dangerous—situations?” And that’s what prompted or inspired my letter.
(KK): There is something so powerful and so cathartic about handwriting letters that you’ll never send. For one, it takes the heat off feelings of shame, conflict, and misunderstanding.
I think so many of us struggle to say exactly what we want in the moment, and I think that’s one of the most beautiful things about the written word—writing your truth, above all else, and letting go of insecurities and the fear of things we can’t say, but need to.
Things like—I’m sorry.
Or—I forgive you. I don’t understand why, but I love you.
Contemporary classist and poet Anne Carson asked the question—“Where can I put it down?”
Rebecca and I recorded this episode in Salt Lake in 2021. As of two Augusts ago, she has not yet sent the letter.
(RY): There’s several reasons. I think I’m just not mentally or emotionally ready for it yet. When I read my letter, it’s very much still written in a way where it’s for me, even though it’s to my parents.
And so, imagining—
(pauses and exhales)
—sending it to my parents—it feels really vulnerable, and there’s a lot of little nuances that I haven’t figured out as far as how they would react and translating it into Korean and whatnot.
(laughs)
Yeah, so. Wow, this is a very complex part of the story—I mean, I guess all relationships are. But—
(inhales)
—I had a really hard time, my last two years in college. It was the first time I was kind of unpacking my childhood and starting to talk about it, and it totally engulfed me.
I was just really depressed and unable to process it very well. And so, while I was doing that, it was really difficult to stay in touch with my parents.
And I mean, even communicating that is not something that I don’t think I was really able to do. I don’t think I had the words and I don’t think I understood what was going on within me to be able to explain to them.
So, I just kinda stopped communicating with them. And I think about two or three years into that, I was finally able to say, “You know, I just really need some space.”
I have some communication with them now. It’s been a few years and I think my parents are still in a place of being hurt and confused about why I kind of had a hiatus. But that’s where it’s at, right now.
(KK): Society tells us that family is number one—they’re not infallible, they’re not always perfect, but they should always come first. But that’s not always the case for everyone. In fact, recent research has shed new light on the phenomenon of family estrangement and, turns out, it’s more common than we think.
Yet there’s still a strange taboo around it. For many, parental love is the most pure and unbreakable form of love out there, no matter how messy things get. Thus, the decision to distance one’s self from an unhealthy family situation might be seen as ungrateful or selfish.
But let’s be clear: estrangement doesn't just happen after one argument. It takes years for someone to gradually break contact, and a lot of courage to walk away from things that we have to heal from. Having something to heal from doesn’t make us dysfunctional or wrong—in fact, it just makes us human.
(RY): Being the youngest of, total of four kids—aw, man. I think, with my personality, it just kinda—it kinda sucked!
(laughs)
Like, I didn’t get special treatment from my parents, which I’m thankful for because I don’t think I was a brat. But I think I was just so insecure, ‘cause I saw my older siblings doing things in what I thought were really well. You know, they were really good at everything they did.
So, yeah—I just kinda felt like I was always in their shadows. But I think, looking back, there’s also a lot of perks. Like, I got to see them go into college and my sister’s a mom now and I get to learn from their mistakes.
(laughs)
I’m just making different mistakes now!
(both laugh)
(KK): It’s worth mentioning that Rebecca’s parents didn’t follow the stereotypical Asian parenting practices that are so embedded in the American psyche. And then, you have the “model minority” stereotype that is unilaterally attached to all immigrants of Asian descent.
Dennis Chon, aka the only other Korean kid in my school, challenged the cultural expectation-slash-myth that Asian American individuals are naturally good at math, hard-working, and submissive, otherwise living “the American dream”, by failing out of high school freshman year and getting sent back to Korea, never to be heard from again—simultaneously enforcing that Asian parents can sometimes be, um, strict.
(RY): That’s funny and really scary, like a horror story—
(laughs)
—like a Korean-American horror story!
(KK): Kind of, right?
(laughter fades out)
(RY): However, they always said, “Try your very best at whatever you do,” And that’s the kind of work ethic that we were raised up with. So, as far as I can remember, I tried my very best at school and with whatever extracurricular activities I was doing, and that’s what made me my straight A’s.
It wasn’t because my parents were looking at my report card every semester. It was because they taught me to work hard—and that’s what gets you straight A’s!
(laughs)
(KK): You know, there’s a small part of me that wishes someone had told Dennis Chon this. Anyway, Rebecca’s family moved around—a lot. Depending on who asks, Rebecca often has a different answer as to why.
(RY): I get that question a lot when I say I moved around a lot and it is hard because it was partially my dad’s job, but also, it was mostly because of my mom’s alcoholism. We lived with a family therapist for a little bit and just the change of environment, I think, is what a lot of addicts rely on.
They say, “Everything’s going to be different after this happens or that happens”. So, every time we moved, it was like, “Ok, Mom’s gonna start all over again—things are gonna be ok.”
A big part of my story is that my dad is a pastor. His personality is very consistent, trustworthy—not a forceful, loud preacher, like a lot of us think when we think of “pastors”. He’s just a really simple guy, for all the good and bad that it comes with.
(laughs)
But yeah, just a straightforward, humble, let’s say, provider—is how I would describe his personality. And I think he enjoys the simple things in life. I don’t think he is a complex person.
And my mom, I think, has a lot more of that complexity within her. She thinks more deeply and diversely and I think she feels a lot more in terms of diversity of emotion and how strongly it comes to her.
They were both born in Korea. My dad moved in high school, I think, and my mom in college, and they met in Texas. And I would say together, my mom is kind of the more fun, quirky personality and then, my dad is like—alright. You know what to expect from him—
(laughs)
—pretty boring but also, really nice to have a safe person—a safe father.
I—
(sighs)
—fortunately or unfortunately, don’t have many memories of my dad. My earliest memory of my mom is actually when I came home from kindergarten and knocking on the door and no one answering. A neighbor helped me in and seeing her, bent over the sink. She was drunk.
And then another time, coming home and checking to make sure that she was breathing ‘cause she was asleep in bed and looking out the window, waiting for my siblings to come home.
So, yeah. That’s the earliest memory I have of my parents. And then, let’s see—
(pauses)
—I see photos of us together, but honestly, I don’t really have a lot of memories of my parents. I know what happened and they provided for me really well, but the more active memories that I have probably skip to eight and older. My mom teaching me how to be independent—
(laughs)
—cooking, cleaning, teaching us Korean. We had a lot of—
(pauses)
—friction over that.
(laughs)
Or my siblings did. I was just like, “Ok, I’ll do what you say.” So, I think my mom definitely took on the larger role of teaching us, taking care of us.
And the reason why I don’t have a lot of memories of my dad is because he was absent for a very long time. He would go to work early and come back late, and understandably so—he just probably didn’t want to be around when my mom was drunk.
My dad is just kind of that background character where he’s always a part of the scene, but he doesn’t really have any lines.
(KK): In the U.S., there are 11 million children under the age of 18 living with at least one parent suffering from alcohol use disorder. It doesn’t always manifest itself in situations of unpredictable or chaotic environments, but it can. At the very minimum, a lot of basic needs get neglected.
At its core, it challenged Rebecca as an adult to unpack internalized beliefs that she had to let go of in order to make room for some new ones.
Like we said, there’s no handbook on how to survive a loved one’s addiction. And as a child, you don’t even have the language. But as Rebecca got older, she started to find the words.
(RY): Yeah, I think it was one of those really depressing questions that I would ask myself growing up, like “Why does Mom drink?” But it wasn’t a logical thing where I knew the more I thought about it, I would actually come to an answer. It was just this looming dark question that I knew—even as I was asking—that I would never have an answer.
You know, my whole childhood was devoid of having that conversation with anyone in our family. I think I always knew when something felt bad as a child, but I don’t think I was able to identity that I feel bad because Mom is drinking.
And the first time I actually verbalized something like that was at sixteen. And then, I mean—now I’m, what? Twenty-seven. Ten years later! And, you know, it’s still a hard thing to talk about.
(KK): We, again, want to emphasize that this episode can only encompass one person’s experience, and to acknowledge that not everybody with a parent who suffers from AUD will have a similar story.
This episode is told through Rebecca’s lens, and we’d like to acknowledge that ultimately, every individual and family experience is different, including the psychological, biological, and interpersonal impacts.
(RY): I think when my mom was drunk, it was almost like she just became a different person to me. I think her normal self is someone who’s really smart, who is confident when she’s teaching us, and an understanding, sensitive mom. And when she was drunk, I saw her as a different person.
But there were times when she wasn’t playing that responsible role of a mother. I think when she would have some space to be with herself or think on her own, especially as I was getting older, I started noticing this attitude she had towards herself.
And the things she would say—really self-deprecating or things that she would say in passing in a sigh. Like, “I’m a bad wife,” or “I’ve ruined your lives”. Not that she said that word for word, but versions of that—when she was sober.
And I think that’s really heartbreaking, ‘cause I never wanna see her that way. It would almost be more acceptable if she said that when she was drunk ‘cause I could dismiss it, as like: “Oh, she’s drunk and so, she’s saying these things.”
But I could actually tell that those things that she said were the truths that she told herself. And that is devastating to hear as a child—is this dark reality that my mom has inside of her head about herself.
I don’t care as much about my mom becoming sober as much as her transforming her way of viewing life and herself. I think being awake to our present is what we live for, right? Those are the times that we actually enjoy life—when we can be in the here and now and be able to notice:
“Wow. This tree is so beautiful—the way that it sways in the wind.” or “Those kids are so cute—the way that they’re running around.” And—
(laughs)
—I think, you kinda have to have some sort of an optimism or hope for yourself and hope in the fact that life can be beautiful. And that’s the kind of experience that I really wish for my mom, and I don’t think that kind of perspective can be had without hope.
I can’t speak for—I was gonna say, the way that she currently views life, but I can’t speak to that right now. But the way that I have experienced her—I think it’s really sad to witness someone who is living life, but not reaping the beautiful aspects of it. And I think that state of mind can exist whether you’re mentally altered or not.
(KK): If you could describe alcoholism in just like, a few words or one word, what would that be?
(RY): (pauses)
Well, for me, I think it feels like I’m losing someone even though they’re alive.
Yeah, while you never wish these really hard things in life upon other people, there’s also a level of loneliness that comes with things that we feel like we’ve dealt with alone.
But then, also—you know, in that dark place, there’s so much beauty and connecting with people who share that hardship. Like, yeah I never wish this upon you, but it is also really sweet that we can find comfort with each other.
And that kind of reminds me of just this concept that for some people, climbing is just a sport and a hobby. And for some people, it is this super life-changing, valuable thing. And I think that the words “climbing” and “climbing community” just strike differently for people who have had a history of where climbing has saved their lives.
Life feels really unreal for me. After going through a really hard time with unpacking my childhood, and I’m still doing that, but kind of living in this new truth of accepting my past and coming clean about the things that I feel ashamed about.
And like I said, climbing is a practice and I think one thing that it practices for me is that sobering activity—
(inhales)
You need to be honest with yourself when you climb, and you need to be honest with your partner. That is a practice, for me, that affects my daily life and the way that I speak to myself and the way that I speak to other people.
When I say that it feels unreal, it’s because—
(pauses)
—I think since I started climbing, it’s like—
(laughs)
—being in a relationship with someone where I’ve been continually learning and being challenged into becoming a more honest and brave person that, now when I look back to the person that I was before I started climbing, it’s like, “Man! Who is that kid?”
Not that I look down on that girl from back when but it’s just like, who I am is too good to be true. And I am so thankful for the people who have allowed me and helped me along the way, including the first people who invited me to go over to that tiny bouldering wall that smelled so bad and it was so dinky!
But, you know, some of the first climbers that I met were climbing, I don’t know—V6s and V7s, no problem. And I couldn’t get my first V0 for a month. But they were cheering me on as if I was just as cool as them and giving me really good beta, telling me, “Hey, what if you move your body this way?”
And just that level of investment that they put into me without it ever feeling like it was an investment. I am so thankful for those people who are just naturally generous that way and so kind, because those little small things started something in my life that has become huge and life-changing for me.
And then, the mentors who have put a lot of time and energy into me and taught me about climbing, but also the mental aspect and their relationships with climbing and all the way to here—in this small, small climbing community that I have within the bigger—
(laughs)
—climbing community that I don’t interact with!
But I would say that’s one thing that I would wanna say—is just that I’m so thankful for all the people who have helped me build this relationship with climbing in a healthy and positive way. I don’t think any of those people individually were thinking like, “Oh, I’m gonna help this girl out—“
(laughs)
“—and deal with all her problems in life.” But yeah, they really did make a difference, and I’m so thankful for that.
(KK): We’re gonna take a short break—so don’t go anywhere. Or…we’re a podcast. You can take us everywhere.
— Patagonia introduces its newest podcast, Patagonia Stories. In each episode, they’ll explore how we gather knowledge and ask questions about our relationship to each other and the natural world.
(FEMALE VOICE): It was like one of those cartoons where the lightbulb goes off. I thought, “Oh, my god! Plants aren’t just takers—they’re also givers!”
(MALE VOICE): Humans have gotten it wrong so many times, you know, why should we assume that we’re getting it right this time?
(MALE VOICE): I was sentenced to life with the possibility of parole. I used to look outside and I would see all of the birds lined up in the morning. And that almost kind of became a ritual for me—some kinda way to feel the harmony of nature and the flow.
(NON-BINARY VOICE): Something that’s often thrown around as a cliche in the climbing world is you have the other person’s life in your hands! It’s not really what you’re thinking about most of the time, but you definitely have someone’s well-being in your hands.
(KK): Questions like, how do lessons get passed down through generations? What barriers prevent us from acquiring natural wisdom? And how can we adapt in the face of a rapidly changing climate?
Tune in for a new episode every Thursday—that’s wherever you get your podcasts. We’ll see you there. Doesn’t this music just scream “quintessential podcast ad?” I love it.
(RY): I don’t know if my—let’s call it low self-esteem or those kinds of voices—if I would say that’s from nature versus nurture. But in any case, I think from a very young age, I was always comparing myself to my siblings and kind of pointing out what I am incapable of or telling myself, “Oh, this is something that is too big for me or too hard for me” and really focusing in on that.
And I think finding a place that feels safe and peaceful, for me—and for me, that’s being alone in my room, doing the things I like. Sometimes I paint, sometimes I write, I play guitar and piano. But my favorite thing to do is, honestly, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling!
(laughs)
And I think to name that tool is actually just asking myself what I need. Because throughout the years, and depending on my environment, I think that can look different. In this season of my life, that’s what that tool looks like, for me.
And I would say, speaking truths out loud has been really good. So, actually, right before you came, I sat on the couch and I was like, “I feel nervous!”
(laughs)
So, just noticing how I feel and saying that out loud and learning to say, “It’s ok to feel nervous. And I feel nervous because I’m gonna share something really vulnerable—and that makes sense. My emotions make sense, and it’s ok to feel what I’m feeling.”
Throughout my childhood and through my teenage years, too—a big part of my life was growing up in church and needing to live this double life of: at home, Mom is alcoholic and this is a big secret that we can’t tell anybody, and at church, being the pastor’s kid.
Honestly, in a Korean church, it’s like being a famous person because it’s so—what’s the right word? Bureaucratic? Hierarchical? So, I had a lot of anger towards religion. I mean, I still do. I have a huge—
(laughs)
—problem with religion and the way that we socially interact with it and kind of idolize it for something that I don’t think it was originally supposed to be. And I think my faith has definitely changed throughout that because when I think about my concept of god when I was younger, it was like this man in the clouds.
But I think that relationship definitely grew as I went through some really dark times. You know, you only really get to—
(pauses)
—You only get to realize where your relationship is at when it’s tested, right?
(laughs)
I mean, things can be really good, but you don’t really know what’s gonna happen when things blow up in your face.
And so, I would say my faith has definitely become more of a value and a bigger part of my life when I came forward with all of my anger and all of my confusion. And that’s something that is super comforting.
Because everything can change—like, my guitar can break. Right? I can move away, I won’t have my friends around me. But believing in a higher power who is all loving—it’s a root for me. That’s not going to change, no matter what my environment throws at me. Even if I change—that’s something that I do hold onto.
(KK): Heraclitus, pioneer of wisdom and Greek philosopher, propounded doctrines and theories about the unity of opposites and inevitable universal flux. Many of his opinions on life remain relevant today, but the notion that change is the only constant is the most famous.
Many of us have a love-hate relationship with change. When things are in the shitter, there’s some solace in the fact that they won’t stay that way forever. They might get better, they might get worse, but inevitably, eventually, they are going to be different.
On the other hand, when life is going great— we wish it could stay that way forever. Whether we actively try to keep things the same or not, change will happen. So, what? Do we embrace it? Fear it or avoid it at all possible cost?
Change involves a lot of risk, which is admittedly scary, even for those who would consider themselves natural risk-takers. Mindfulness has helped Rebecca work toward a better relationship with change.
And she also discovered her brain’s ability to adapt through the reorganization of new neural connections and structure. She learned—is learning, just like we all are—that perhaps, the best thing she could do for herself was to challenge the parts of her brain that didn’t think she had the ability to try and succeed.
(RY): I think I do have a picture of who I am, in my mind. I guess everyone does, to a certain extent. And for me, that picture is—I don’t know, by my character or by my personality, just a really solidified picture of who I am that doesn’t change a lot.
And so, it takes a lot for me to go against the grain of what I have told myself, “This is who I am. This is what I do or don’t do.” And I think climbing really changed me. You know, I talked about this a little bit in the recording, but it kinda initiated a lot of these mental practices inside of me.
So, climbing is something that challenged me to do something new. And I think, with every new problem, it’s like—try going a little bit higher or try a new move that I’ve never done before. And so, because of that diversity, I think it was challenging the thing inside of me that says, “I know who I am.”
So, climbing for me is just something that has taught me a lot of practices in life. I think I have for sure learned lessons, which I find are event-type learning experiences—where through this experience, I learned this one concept.
But then, it has also taught me practices of, you know, “This is how I can re-wire my brain.” Like, I think my brain has been somewhat rewired by climbing.
(KK): Most of us would rightly assume that climbing can improve confidence, endurance, muscle, and flexibility. But studies consistently show that skilled sports can increase and strengthen motor cortex function.
Our body responds to the way we train it, and that includes the brain, which builds stronger connections between planning and executing every time we coordinate them. It can even actually rewire parts of the brain that have been damaged, which we’ve seen in case studies of TBI or Parkinson’s.
Any skilled behavior is learned, and to sum up Hebb’s law—“Neurons that fire together, wire together.” For certain types, climbing can succeed where other kinds of mindfulness exercises don’t.
That’s been Rebecca’s experience. She grew up safely, introspective, and reserved. Climbing really was probably the last thing her parents and loved ones expected her to pursue, but sometimes our least likely passions aren’t the ones that we find. They find you, and you don’t always have to good at them. You don’t even have to be great! You just have to let curiosity take the lead for a little bit.
(RY): I was super timid. I liked to play alone.
(laughs)
Super introverted kid—I liked to go outside and play with caterpillars. Not a competitive person, so I was never into playing sports with other kids or I didn’t really care about popularity. I pretty much kept to myself and I don’t really remember feeling lonely—so, I think I had a really rich inner world.
So, I grew up in the suburbs of Maryland for the first six years of my life. So, I spent a lot of time just in front of our house catching caterpillars and fireflies. And I liked being outside, but I was never someone who really adventured or explored or had fun in the way that other kids seemed to have fun—
(laughs)
—running around, going down on sleds, going to the playground—things like that. So, my conceptualization of the outdoors was pretty small. Even though it’s outdoors, I only played in front of the house. I didn’t really venture off.
(laughs)
I definitely say I’ve become more adventurous. I’m really drawn to being in a new, magical space. Yeah, I don’t—I don’t fear—
(laughs)
I do not fear being in a new place anymore, So, I would say that’s the biggest thing that’s changed for me, and I think I’ve brought more power to my curiosity. I think I’ve always been a curious kid, but I was too afraid to answer the questions that I had in my mind.
And now, I’m like, “Alright! Gonna find that out—what does the other side of the river look like,” or “What can I see if I take that path instead of this one that I’ve already taken?”
(KK): Research shows that preschool kids ask an average of a hundred questions a day in an attempt to understand the world around them. By middle school, kids largely stop asking. It’s not because they suddenly lose interest—they lose interest because they stop asking.
There are probably a million reasons why this happens, some of them social, some bureaucratic, or personal. Sometimes, life just happens around us and we duck our heads and move with it in order to keep up the pace.
But a passionate curiosity cultivates a beginner’s mindset and draws knowledge both to and from within. Without questioning, there’s less discovery, and without discovery—there’s no growth or learning. And a big part of Rebecca’s journey has been recognizing that this isn’t just a story about her mother, but her own.
(RY): My mom’s drinking is something that has infected so much of my life, from my earliest memories to the places that I’ve lived. I got to witness the cycle of her addiction before I even knew that a cycle existed. I remember how she would stupidly clean the same spot, over and over again when she was drunk, or see her passed out in a puddle of her own urine in the middle of the kitchen.
But perhaps, the most significant sense of loss didn’t come from when she was drunk, but rather when she was sober. The moments when, though she wasn’t altered by a substance, she lived in a state of constant sense of defeat, shame, and hopelessness.
That’s the thing about addiction. It alters you, even when you’re not using because it totally clouds your mind and blocks any glimpse of hope. She would say things like, “I’m a terrible mother, I can’t do anything about it, and that’s just how I am.”
She was and has been for a long time, in a complete state of hopelessness. Before the substance ever affected her, she was already defeated by her self-loathing. It’s that state of mind that things will always be as it has been, that she knows herself all too well, and because she knows that she will relapse, she is unworthy.
And though I don’t struggle with alcoholism, I think that kind of self-perception can be infectious. I’m not saying I struggled with crushing self-esteem issues solely because I learned it from my mom, but I’m not a stranger to that notion, that self-limiting voice—the one that says, “Hey! You’ve lived like this for years. You know who you are. Don’t dare to hope you can be any different.”
These were some dense thoughts that I wanted to somehow communicate to my mom. How could I explain to her, starting from climbing, to these complex feelings I was having?
So, here’s how I continue my letter:
“You see, climbing teaches me, again and again, there are climbs that I don’t think I could do. There are climbs that I feel like I can’t do. There are climbs that simply freak me out. Even from the start, I never thought I could do it—I expected myself to fail.
But climbing continually proves me wrong. Climbing continually puts me back on the very thing that I fear and feel defeated by and shows me that, perhaps, I don’t know myself as much as I thought I did. It proves to me that my low expectations for myself are flawed. It teaches me, again and again, that I can’t be too confident in my own hopeless self-perception.
It instead, humbles me, showing me that there’s so much undiscovered potential within me. And so, every time I climb, I give way to that ever-so-small doubt in my sea of confidence. That confidence that I know myself, that I know what I’m not capable of—that I know what I don’t like.
Turns out, we think we know ourselves so well, but we don’t. And so, every time I choose to climb, it’s not because of the confidence that I can succeed. It’s more because of doubt—a slight doubt that perhaps my confident prediction of my failure might not be true for just a moment.
It’s that very doubt that I long so much to share with you, because climbing has taught me to doubt my confident self-defeat, and it’s pushed me to dare to hope, just a little bit.” End quote.
I know just hope isn’t some magic answer to cure addictions. But I’m not sure if you can part ways from your addiction without hope, and if you stay an addict for the rest of your life, those moments when you’re sober, even if it’s just a few days or a few hours—I don’t think those sober moments are really worth it if you’re not able to enjoy it because you’re so clouded by depression and self-judgment.
Honestly, I don’t care as much about my mom’s sobriety as much as I care about her to just simply feel hopeful for herself. I just want my mom to have a glimpse of that kind of restfulness. For her to know that it’s ok to hope and mess up.
It’s ok to enjoy life. It’s ok to just be, to feel, to enjoy a moment. It’s ok to not believe in this self-proclaimed negative identity for just a moment and feel free to enjoy life.
I haven’t sent this letter to my parents yet. I’ve actually had very infrequent communication with them in the past few years. I’d gotten really depressed, digging up my past as a child of an alcoholic and found it too crushing for me to keep in touch with them.
So, I didn’t talk with them for about four years and have only recently started texting them once every few months. This letter has been sitting on my laptop for almost a year now and with their Native tongue being Korean and my writing being in—
(laughs)
—unorganized and emotionally charged English, I don’t feel quite ready to send it just yet.
(sniffs)
But that’s the gist of it. This is how my letter ends:
“I have hope for our family, and most of all, I have hope for mom. Not exactly hope that she would be sober, but hope in herself. Hope in life, hope as practice, hope to see that grace is true and that today could be good.
Hope that it’s possible to experience the warmth of the sun shining down and enjoy it. Hope to feel the love of an unconditionally pursuing god. Hope to feel lucky to be alive—these little things, but these little big things.
And all this hoping requires doubt and humility. Doubt in who we believe we are, and humility that we are not the final judge of our potentials.
Obviously, climbing has become an integral part of me. My scariest and happiest moments are with climbing. I know you don’t like it, but I’m sure you also didn’t know how it’s changed me and saved me. I really wanna share it with you. I’d like for you to feel the same rush of excitement, fear, conquering and pure joy of being in the mountains.
I know you can do it and I know it will teach you something. Will you come with me? Visit me? I will take you to my favorite spots. You will see the trees, the river, and the beautiful mountain range. And you’ll get up high and see much more.
Love, your daughter.”
(KK): You’re listening to For the Love of Climbing Podcast. A huge thank you to deuter, one of the leading backpack brands that will help you hit the trails with confidence and comfort. And a big thank you to Gnarly Nutrition for supporting this podcast and the messages that we share. Gnarly Nutrition supports a community of vulnerability and equality—and tastes like a milkshake, without all the crap. A big shout out to Allez Outdoor for supporting the Access Fund and 1% for the Planet. And to Ocún—innovative gear engineered for climbing to improve your performance.
And thanks to Patagonia. Not bound by convention, Patagonia is in business to save our home planet. Support companies who support this podcast—we couldn’t do it without them. If you liked what you heard, you can leave a review on iTunes or give us a like—like all good things, you can find us on the internet.
Additional Resources for Family + Loved Ones:
Children of Alcoholics: The Impacts of Alcoholics on Kids
How Having an Alcoholic Parent Can Affect a Child
What Happens to Children of Alcoholic Parents?
Resources For Daughters of Alcoholic Mothers
Loving an Addict or Alcoholic: How to Help Someone With Addiction
How to Help an Alcoholic: A Guide to Support & Recovery
When It Comes to Reducing Alcohol-Related Stigma, Words Matter
Debunking Myths About Estrangement
What Resources Are Available To Me?
Al-Anon is the largest and most well-known support group for families of alcoholics. Modeled after Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), Al-Anon includes a 12-Step program for members to follow to help them cope with their family member’s alcoholism. Al-Anon holds regular meetings in all 50 states and in many countries around the world.
Nar-Anon is based on the Al-Anon model, only Nar-Anon is complementary to Narcotics Anonymous. Although Nar-Anon is primarily focused on helping those whose families have been impacted by drug use, they also offer support for family members of those impacted by alcoholism.
SMART Recovery™ is one of the leading alternatives to AA and is especially popular with alcoholics that have issues with AA’s spiritual focus. While SMART Recovery™ is focused on alcoholics, the organization also has resources for friends and family as well.
Co-Dependents Anonymous is a support group that is dedicated to helping those who struggle with co-dependent relationships, both those that have been impacted by alcohol and drug use and those who have not. Co-DA is a 12-step group where members support each other as they try to not only survive but thrive.
Schools of all levels, from elementary schools to universities, have numerous resources available to help students cope with the substance abuse of their parents.
It may be beneficial for you to seek help from a mental health professional such as a psychiatrist, psychologist, or social worker. They may be able to help you understand, cope with your feelings about, and improve your mental state over your parent’s situation and the impacts that it has had on you.