Polepole: A Lesson About Slowing Down

With last Wednesday's #metalayoffs announcement I want to share with all of you a lesson that I learned last November while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, that I also shared with my fellow #metamates

Last November was a busy month for many of us. My team and I were preparing for the upcoming midterm election, and like many of you, I was surprised to hear from the Wall Street Journal that Meta was about to conduct its first-ever mass?layoffs. I flew down to SF, and like everyone else, I buried myself in my work to not only ensure that we were protecting the integrity of the US election but also to try and forget about the inevitable announcement.

That Wednesday rolled around, and I found that some of my coworkers and colleagues were now out of a job. I remember the rush of anxiety that filled me; I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I remember asking myself, "Will there be more layoffs?", "Maybe it was a bad idea leaving the military," or "What if my work was all for nothing?" I hated that feeling of uncertainty. So, with all these feelings of uncertainty, anxiety, and stress, I did what every rational person would do in this scenario: I booked a plane ticket to Tanzania in two weeks to go summit Mount Kilimanjaro.

When I booked my ticket, I told myself that I didn’t want to just summit this mountain; I wanted to do it faster than the average climber and I wanted to do it alone. So, I booked a private tour with a company and told them that I was an experienced hiker (ruck marches count, right?) and that although it normally takes five days to summit this mountain, I was going to do it in two and a half days, and I wanted to do it alone. After a lot of back-and-forth emails, I was able to convince them but had to abide by one condition: they would have a guide waiting for me at each of the campsites along the trek to make sure that I didn’t get lost along the way. I agreed and began preparing for my upcoming trip, which was now less than 12 days away.

I remember that for the next 12 days, the only thing on my mind was envisioning myself achieving my goal and summiting the tallest mountain in Africa. I remember training as hard as I could and making the necessary preparations to have all the gear that I would need. The day finally came, and I flew to Tanzania. On the first day of the trek, the guide explained to me that although the trek is only 30 miles to the summit, it starts at an elevation of a little over 3,000 feet, and the peak of Kilimanjaro is 19,340 feet, so he warned me about the signs of altitude sickness. He explained that I would be crossing four camps along my journey and that a guide would be waiting for me at each camp to make sure that I didn’t get lost along the way and that I was healthy enough to continue. The last piece of advice he gave me was to remember these words: "polepole," a word used in Swahili that means "slowly," "carefully." I should have listened to those words.

I began my trek, and I remember that the entire time, the only thing I could think of was accomplishing my goal: to summit this mountain as quickly as possible. On the first day, I was able to reach the first camp and had plenty of time to spare. On the second day, I reached the second camp and decided to keep going and spend the night at the third camp, the entire time thinking about my objective of summiting this beast of a mountain. When I reached the third camp, I told the guide waiting for me that I was planning to summit the following day. I remember him strongly advising me against it, after all, the base camp is at 16,000 feet, and most hikers spend at least one day resting at base to acclimate to the altitude. But I didn't care; my objective, my mission, was to summit this mountain in 2 ? days, and failure was not an option.

So, I woke early that following morning and began my journey to the summit. I remember reaching base camp in record time, and I thought to myself that there was no point in resting or stopping now, so I continued towards the summit. As you get closer to the summit, the steepness increases significantly. As I slowly made my way higher and higher, I began feeling incredibly weak. I decided to ignore it and just push through, but eventually, my body collapsed. So there I was, on the side of Mount Kilimanjaro, on my back with my backpack on, looking up at the sky, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. The thing that I should mention is that although it's typically warm in Tanzania in November, as you get closer to the top of Kilimanjaro, the temperatures drop closer to -10°F. So, I'm laying there, on the side of this mountain, barely able to move, and the temperature is dropping fast. I decided to close my eyes (something you should never do) for what felt like an eternity, and as I closed my eyes, I asked myself, why did I want to do this in the first place? Because it was something cool to do? Impressive? But no, it was because I was trying to bury that feeling of anxiety, of not knowing, and I was trying to think about something else instead of how I was feeling.

As I laid there for what felt like an eternity, I remember waking up to snow falling on my face. I thought to myself, "Great, not only is it cold, but now it's snowing." So, I sat up and started thinking back about how the day unfolded and what I did wrong, and that's when it hit me. I was so hyper focused on achieving my goal of summiting this mountain as quickly as possible that I had completely forgotten about resting and eating lunch. My body was running on fumes, and it had finally told me to stop. So, I grabbed the food in my backpack, and luckily, I had brought a couple of Snickers bars with me. I ate what I can only describe as the two best frozen Snickers bars I have ever had in my life and rested until I had enough strength to go on. When I finally stood up, I told myself that this time I wasn't going to focus on trying to go as fast as possible to the summit but instead to "polepole," slowly and carefully.

When I finally reached the summit, I remember this rush of emotions filling me because I had just realized that now that it's done, I have to confront all the other negative emotions that I had suppressed. As I made my way back down the mountain, I made myself a commitment that I need to start paying more attention to how I feel and to slow down.

I know that many of us right now have these feelings of uncertainty, anxiety, stress, and for some, depression. I know that the easy way to overcome those things is to bury them and avoid confronting them by being hyper focused on something irrelevant and hoping that eventually, those feelings will go away. I'm telling you now that doing that will most likely not make those feelings go away. What you risk doing is potentially having those feelings manifest in other ways that can affect your family, friends, or even yourself.

They will creep up when you least suspect it and can cause significant damage to yourself and those around you. I don't know what will help you individually, but I can tell you that for me, slowing down, paying attention to those feelings, and regularly speaking about how I feel with a therapist and those around me made me significantly better.

So, as we face these uncertain times together, I encourage each of you to find ways to address your emotions and fears, rather than simply burying them. Reach out to friends, family, or professional help if needed, and remember that it's okay to slow down and take care of yourself. In doing so, not only will you be better equipped to handle the challenges ahead, but you will also be better prepared to support those around you who may be struggling as well.

This lesson I learned on Mount Kilimanjaro is one that applies to all aspects of life, especially during trying times like these. By confronting our emotions head-on and allowing ourselves to slow down and take care of ourselves, we become more resilient, compassionate, and better equipped to handle the challenges we face. Keep the Swahili saying "polepole" in mind as you navigate these uncertain times – remember to approach them slowly and carefully, and don't forget to take care of yourself and those around you.