Les Arcs (French Alps)

Les Arcs – the French Alps What a few days – my first time in the Alps and first experience of skiing “out in the wild”. Climbing the mountain by car under cover of night didn’t wake my senses up to the vast beauty and the stark terror of being on the side of a mountain so high. Opening the curtains on the first full day and it hit me hard – it was a different world up there; the snow, the minus 8 degrees centigrade, the thin air and the expert ski-ers racing around us. Standing at the window and staring out, I realised that this trip would be different – beautiful but challenging even. I hit the first day hard – picking up my equipment for skiing and racing up to where we could practice, despite only having had a single lesson before travelling out. My first ten runs or so were great and the instructor on the practice slope was impressed, so my confidence rocketed and I felt that tiny itch of hypomania pushing back against my medicated mind. That was until we ended up on the first proper run… We took to the Piste De Minis – a beginner run aimed at children. I believed it would be easy, as I’d become too confident for my own good. I started to follow the instructor but quickly lost control, and the confidence was shattered – I realised I had (as often used to happen before my diagnosis), bitten off more than I could chew, and was then hurtling downhill with very little control over speed and direction! Suddenly the fluffy and welcoming snow became hard and jagged walls of ice; the only thing ready to stop me being the need to slam into one of these cold barriers, or to throw myself down onto the floor… After losing my cool and throwing myself onto the cold, hard snow barrier on the edge of the piste, I realised that I was struggling to feel my feet – boots were too tight and honestly it felt like a relief to know it wasn’t just my head – there was a real, physical reason for my lack of control. I just didn’t have the skiing experience to recognise this sooner and to save myself the worry – cut myself some slack. I think that’s the main message for me from a mental health perspective – you can’t always be perfect, especially if you rush into something without taking the time to really give it a go. It takes time to learn a new skill, to get used to a new medication, to make lifestyle changes, to learn which photos are made vs those that are taken. Give yourself time and for goodness sake, cut yourself some slack! Luckily for me, at the end of the day on this trip, there was always a nice cold beer and some tasty snacks waiting at the restaurant-come-pub-come-club! I used photography on this trip to escape some of the intensity of being out on the slopes – especially as there were a multitutde of new sensory experiences my body needed to get used to, from the snow and ice to the stiff and uncomfortable boots. Because photography can be slow and deliberate, it gives us a platform to move and enjoy the world around us, to really see it, whilst doing so at our own pace. That is one of the biggest gifts of photography in my eyes. Until next time guys, keep it real!   The Bipolar Photographer x Subscribe for new posts and exclusive prints! * indicates required First Name Last Name Email Address * /* real people should not fill this in and expect good things – do not remove this or risk form bot signups */