To begin, I want to introduce the setting of my current job as a therapeutic recreation intern. I work with adults who have learning disabilities and/or some form of autism in a residential facility designed to help these students become independent in the community. We focus on teaching social skills, self-advocacy, and self-awareness, and we strive every day to push them into becoming the people they want to be--regardless of their disabilities.
The other day my supervisor and I took some of our students indoor rock climbing. These students were all males between the ages of 21 and 30, and a few of them had never been rock climbing in their life. One student in particular was very nervous about the experience. He stated repeatedly and emphatically, "I'm afraid of heights, I can't do this!" He tried once to climb up the wall, but only made it about a quarter of the way. No amount of encouragement could convince this student that he could climb that wall and not die.
Once down from the wall and untied he sat away from the group and observed as his fellow classmates made their way up and down the wall without too much difficulty. We even decided to blindfold these students while they climbed to test their skill and trust in their belayer. As class time came to an end my supervisor asked this student if he wanted to try climbing with a blindfold on too.
He said yes! But he said, "I'm only going to climb as high as I did before." (Only about a fourth of the way up.) So, we blindfolded him and he began to climb--one hold to the next. His fellow students cheered him on and assisted where need be, and this student climbed and climbed. Unbeknownst to him, he was well past the point where he had stopped before, and he continued still to climb. Soon, my supervisor was able to say to the student, "Reach your hand up." The student did and to his great surprise, he was touching the bar at the top of the climb!
After he returned to the ground, he explained that he had no idea as to how high he was, and he believed that he was even below the spot where he had stopped before. We asked him if it scared him that he was so high and he stated that he could climb the same wall without the blindfold, no problem. This led us to a discussion on limits.
Often, as in this student's case, we set limits for our self, or more specifically, for our potential in some facet of life. I know this is true, because I do it far too often. I may say to myself, I am afraid of public speaking; therefore I will never be a good leader. In my work I hear more often than expected, people saying, "I'm not this or I'm not that, so I will never get married and have a family."
In the case of this student rock climbing, he had set his limit and pronounced his effort as a failure long before he even started to climb the wall. He was afraid of heights, and he had never been rock climbing; THEREFORE, he would not make it to the top. However, when he was blindfolded, something changed. He could no longer set that limit for himself because he could not see how far he was up the wall. Without that limit, he made it just fine up that wall. He was even using small and tricky holds that he previously would not even touch.
In life, we all set these limits for ourselves, and sometimes even for others. What we need to remember is what this student learned that day on the rock wall. Human potential is far greater than any limit, stereotype, disability, fear, or failure. Our potential is infinite. But in the end, we are the ones who have to choose whether or not we will live up to, or turn a blind eye to these limits.
I hope you can take the time to think about what limits are currently restricting you. Don't allow your potential to be stifled by insecurities and lies. Life is too precious for that.
Currently, I am assigned to work with a client (I will call her Jane) through animal assisted therapy. Every week a woman comes in with her dog and we all interact together. I have used animals as this "stickiness" tool to somehow connect with her. When she first arrived, Jane hardly spoke to anyone, and any communication was limited to little more than a shrug.
