Burnout, Belonging, and Choosing Myself
By Jennifer Wolan
Six years ago, I was living in Chicago and felt absolutely stuck...
It was winter, and I spent most of my days in an office, staring out the window at the street, watching box trucks pass by wondering how I could convert one and escape the city life for more nature and adventure.
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I also knew I wanted to climb, but I didn’t know how to start. I would ask my local friends to go to the climbing gym with me with no success - Chicago is a drinkin’ city and my friends were busy planning boozy brunch Saturdays and deciding which bar they were going to watch the Bears game on Sunday.
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I was burned out by the daily grind of working, being pressured to go to the bars on the weekends and the dismal nature that surrounded me.
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Influenced by endless Instagram scrolling and #VanLife, I sold my car, bought a van, and spent my life savings building it out. In hindsight, if I knew people lived out of their cars in the west, I probably would have done that first instead.
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When the van was finished, I found a seasonal job in Moab, Utah. I had visited once, but I didn’t know a single person. It was my first week working at Moab Gear Trader when I came across the crack camp at Indian Creek with She Sends Collective.
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While I saw a lot of climbing clinics, She Sends was the first one I would actually be able to afford thanks to the sliding pay scale it offered. I immediately jumped on the opportunity, stoked for my first social adventure in the desert. I remember pulling into the campsite after my shift and I started to get a bit nervous. I missed the initial meeting at Gillie B’s and by now it was dark, so I went searching for a group of women I’ve never met before.
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Thankfully, the first campsite I walked up to was the crack camp and I arrived just in time. The topic of conversation was how the group liked to be supported in times of uncertainty and fear.
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My first thought was, “Wow, what a refreshing conversation!”
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Up until then, most of my limited climbing experience had come from going on online dates with men who climbed. (Yes, I was desperate. LOL) The weekend was filled with badass women and genderqueer humans who took the time to walk through safety tips, gear placements, anchor knowledge, etc.
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There was a camaraderie and non-judgemental atmosphere that I hadn’t experienced anywhere else. The weekend was structured and calm. There was clear instruction, room for questions, and guides who knew how to teach.
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I didn’t feel rushed or pressured to perform. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to prove anything. I left that weekend with my heart extremely fulfilled, and with connections that I still keep to this day. I even vowed to stop using online dating apps to find a climbing partner!
Six years later, I still keep in touch with people from that crack climbing weekend. I run into them at crags even outside the US!
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I eventually made the tough decision to take a more stable job in Boulder - and it was mostly because of the climbing scene and to participate in more She Send’s events like coffee and climb and day clinics to learn how to multi-pitch climb.
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If the sliding scale pricing hadn’t existed, I probably wouldn’t have gone to the crack climbing weekend. And if I hadn’t gone, I’m not sure how long I would have kept trying to piece together climbing access and knowledge through uncomfortable or unsafe situations.
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I’m thankful I found She Sends when I did. I have witnessed the growth it gave to include women and genderqueer community in climbing. Whenever I tell my climbing story, She Sends is always mentioned because the organization gave me the confidence, ability and community I have today.​​​
I didn’t feel rushed or pressured to perform. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to prove anything. I left that weekend with my heart extremely fulfilled, and with connections that I still keep to this day. I even vowed to stop using online dating apps to find a climbing partner! Six years later, I still keep in touch with people from that crack climbing weekend. I run into them at crags even outside the US!
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I eventually made the tough decision to take a more stable job in Boulder - and it was mostly because of the climbing scene and to participate in more She Send’s events like coffee and climb and day clinics to learn how to multi-pitch climb.
​
If the sliding scale pricing hadn’t existed, I probably wouldn’t have gone to the crack climbing weekend. And if I hadn’t gone, I’m not sure how long I would have kept trying to piece together climbing access and knowledge through uncomfortable or unsafe situations.
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I’m thankful I found She Sends when I did. I have witnessed the growth it gave to include women and genderqueer community in climbing. Whenever I tell my climbing story, She Sends is always mentioned because the organization gave me the confidence, ability and community I have today.
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When Passion Turned Into Burnout
In 2022, I found myself in a relationship with another climber. It was new and exciting. They lived in their vehicle like me, knew far more about systems and gear, and represented the climber I wanted to become. I looked up to them — to who they were and who I imagined my future climbing self could be.
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It wasn’t long until I started joking that our relationship was “climbing bootcamp.”
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We climbed every single day after work and double time on weekends which were big, all-day multipitch routes. Rest days were for driving to the next climbing state or waiting out rain.
Slowly, an unspoken rule emerged: if I wasn’t down to climb — or couldn’t perform — I would not be loved.
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At the time, I didn’t fully see it that way. The unhealed version of myself enjoyed the struggle. I wanted to be tough. I wanted to “hang.” I wanted to prove I could.
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For the first time in my life, though, I couldn’t keep up.
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My body was tired. My spirit was tired. I missed having friends. I missed biking, hiking, skiing — the other things that made me me.
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Eventually, I put my foot down.
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I wanted a normal life. One where climbing was a part of it, not the center of everything.
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That decision came with a cost: choosing myself meant losing my primary climbing partner — someone I trusted — and facing the fear of being alone again in a sport that relies so heavily on partnership.
What Burnout Taught Me
The hardest realization was this:
Climbing is not my life — even if it looks like it on Instagram.
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I don’t need to suffer to belong.
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I don’t need to earn love through performance.
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I don’t need to make my body a machine to prove my worth.
Burnout forced me to ask: What actually fills me back up?
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For me, renewal looks like:
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Having multiple hobbies, not just one identity
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Letting climbing be an add-on, not a requirement
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Rest days that are real rest — not “productive recovery” … the Chicago girl came out… yes, I actually need a boozy brunch Saturday filled with comradery, laughter and taking a nap at 1pm.
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Choosing partners and communities that feel safe, patient, and human
The more I tell this story, the more I realize I’m not alone.
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As the climbing community grows, it can still be hard to find partners who are consistent, supportive, and aligned. It’s an emotional relationship game — not unlike dating — and burnout often comes from staying too long in dynamics that don’t honor our full selves.
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What I’d Tell My Younger Self About Burnout
You don’t have to be extreme to be committed.
You don’t have to push every edge to be worthy of belonging.
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Your body is not the problem.
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Your limits are not a failure.
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Rest is not weakness.
The right community will make space for your humanity — not just your output.