Because This Mattered

🎤Why I Share Without Needing Applause

Someone is always ready to judge.

We live in a world where sharing your life online is instantly suspect. People assume it means you want attention. Approval. Validation. Especially if you’re a woman doing something alone—even more so.

Sometimes it’s strangers online. Sometimes it’s people you know—friends, acquaintances, even those who mean well. 👀 People who’ve never hiked. Who don’t know what it feels like to be alone on a ridge in the wind. Who assume that if you’re sharing your experience, it must be for likes, validation, or some hidden craving for applause.

You hear the whispers:

She must want attention.

She’s always posting—who is she trying to impress?

If it really meant something, she wouldn’t need to say it out loud.

But here’s the thing:

I’m not sharing to be clapped for. 🎭 I’m not posting to prove anything. And I’m definitely not documenting my hikes to earn approval.

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🧭I Share Because It Mattered

To me.

This is a way of marking a moment. Of witnessing my own life. Of capturing what it felt like—legs aching, clouds hanging low, wind threading through my jacket, heart full of something unnameable and true. 💙

And after I come back down—muddy, tired, utterly alive—I write about it. Not to say “look at me,” but to say “I was here.” 🗺️

I share these moments because they’re real. And real things deserve to be remembered.

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🖋️I Don’t Share for Applause. I Share So I Don’t Disappear

Because the truth is, during the week, parts of me do disappear.

In between deadlines 🗂️, responsibilities 🧾, routines 🔁, and expectations 📌, there’s a quiet fading.

I become a lot of roles I love—but none that make space for the mountain version of me. The version that’s strong. Wild. Certain.

The version that trusts her gut, picks her own path, and doesn’t wait for anyone.

That version deserves a voice.

So I write. I post. I document. Not to prove. But to witness myself. 👁️

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📍I post for my future self

For the version of me who might forget how strong I am. For the tired, stretched-thin woman months/years from now who might need reminding that she once stood alone on a summit and didn’t flinch.  🏔️💪

To leave breadcrumbs for the future-me who might forget. To remind her: you did this once, you can do it again. 🔁

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🧱I Know I’ll Be Judged. And That’s Fine

People will judge no matter what you do.

Whether you speak or stay silent.

Whether you share or keep it to yourself.

Whether you follow the expected path or carve your own with blistered feet.

Even people close to you will question it.

Why alone?

Why always the mountains?

Why share it with everyone?

But here’s the thing I’ve learned:

If someone is set on judging you, no amount of explanation and nothing you say will change their script. 🎭 You could write a thesis on your intentions, and they’d still twist it. You could hand them your heart ❤️, and they’d ask why it’s beating too loud.

Your freedom might make them uncomfortable. Your confidence might rattle something in them. Your self-trust might read, to them, like arrogance.

So, you stop trying to justify.

You don’t need to be understood to be valid.✅

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💬If My Words Reach Even One Other Person? That’s Enough

Because somewhere out there, someone’s holding themselves back.

Telling themselves they’ll go when they’re braver. 🕰️

That solo adventures aren’t for people like them.

That they need someone’s permission to choose themselves.

If sharing my stories helps someone, even just a little, then it was worth it .I’m not here to teach. I’m just here to tell the truth—mine. And if someone sees a reflection of their own power in that?

✨Beautiful.✨

So no, I don’t share because I’m unsure. I share because I refuse to forget who I am.🔥

Because one day, I’ll need reminding.

One day, I’ll need to scroll back through muddy boots and wild hair and misty ridgelines, and see that fire in my own words.

And I’ll say to myself - You were there. You chose yourself. And it mattered.🗻💖

🌿If even one person reads this and feels less alone in their own story, then it was worth it.