18/06/2025
A couple months ago, my husband and I climbed Mount Sinai - a journey I’d dreamt of for over a decade.
I thought I knew what I was walking into. My love for mountain trekking started while I was still at school, at the age of 18, when I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and reached the highest point - the Uhuru peak.
But I didn’t account for the freezing winds, the biting cold, the exhaustion, or the dark.
I also didn’t expect the parts of myself I’d meet along the way.
💪 The grit that kicks in at midnight when you’re climbing in silence.
🫵 The ego that says, “If my brother did it, I can too.”
🫶 The value of companionship when you’re too tired to walk but have someone to rely on.
For those interested, I’ve documented my reflections in an article (which you can read here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/some-things-can-only-seen-when-were-stretched-mariam-hassam-mpa-cmgr-xhqie/?trackingId=J5o1Y4FRmEa4BAElCxbYWQ%3D%3D).
But here’s a short summary:
🔹 Resilience grows in the doing, not the planning.
🔹 We can’t always see how far we have left, but we *can* take the next step.
🔹 Snapshots never tell the story behind the struggle.
We didn’t quite enjoy the sunrise at the top - it was too cold to take it in. Later when I looked back at the photos, I realised we had no clue what had been happening in the background - while taking a couple of random photos it turned out I’d captured a serious photographer completely immersed in getting to the peak!
But what I carried down was something else entirely:
A shared memory.
A sense of deep connection.
And the quiet pride of having done something hard, together.
If you’re on a difficult path, keep walking.
You won’t always see the meaning in the moment.
But one day, that moment will help you make sense of everything.
🌄 What I’m trying to say is - sometimes, the hardest climbs bring us home to ourselves.