Burnout, Belonging and Choosing Myself

By Jennifer Wolan

January 12, 2026

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

My first thought was, “Wow, what a refreshing conversation!” 

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. 

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. 

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! 

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. 

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! 

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. 

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.

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.

It wasn’t long until I started joking that our relationship was “climbing bootcamp.”

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.

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.

For the first time in my life, though, I couldn’t keep up.

My body was tired. My spirit was tired. I missed having friends. I missed biking, hiking, skiing — the other things that made me me.

Eventually, I put my foot down.

I wanted a normal life. One where climbing was a part of it, not the center of everything.

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.

• I don’t need to suffer to belong.

• I don’t need to earn love through performance.

• 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?

For me, renewal looks like:

• Having multiple hobbies, not just one identity

• Letting climbing be an add-on, not a requirement

• 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.

• Choosing partners and communities that feel safe, patient, and human

The more I tell this story, the more I realize I’m not alone.

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.

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.

• Your body is not the problem.

• Your limits are not a failure.

• Rest is not weakness.

The right community will make space for your humanity — not just your output.