It takes a leap of faith to try something new as an adult, so I’m not quite sure how I found myself at Stronghold Climbing Gym, a rock wall gymnasium, this past weekend. I had signed up for a beginner-level climbing class, and I was the only student who hadn’t brought a buddy, which meant I had to make fast friends with a couple in the class. I use the word friends because climbing 40 feet into the air requires more camaraderie and, perhaps, dependence than you can really get from a stranger.

Here’s how top-roped rock climbing works in a climbing gym: One person climbs the wall while another stands at the bottom, keeping the rope taut and using a system called a belay to keep the climber safe. The belay is designed so that if the climber falls, as long as the belayer is holding the rope correctly, they’ll stay suspended rather than plummeting to the ground.

Part of becoming an approved belayer is demonstrating proficiency with a falling climber. What that means is that as a climber, you’re asked to fall unexpectedly so that the belayer can show the instructor that they’re able to operate the ropes in such a way that you’re safe. This would be scary with my dearest cronies, but with these “new friends” (also known as complete strangers), it was downright terrifying.

So I embarked on my climb. Right hand hold, left hand hold, pull myself up, left foothold, right foothold… find a higher right hand hold and hoist, find a new place for my right foot to rest. It was really empowering! “I am strong,” I thought to myself, and I felt powerful, strategically Spidermanning my way up the wall.

And then, just a few feet above the ground, without telling the person responsible for my safety: I COMPLETELY LET GO OF THE WALL!

And this is what happened: I didn’t fall. I kind of… dangled by my harness. And I thought, “this woman at the bottom has totally got me. I am safe.” And then, to my surprise, “Now that I am safe, it means I can be more daring. I can take greater risks. I can rest my foot on a tiny rock without worrying for my safety if I slip, or grab for a hand hold that looks out of reach… because even if I fall, my belayer will be there for me.” And guess what? With that confidence and, of course, that support, I reached the top.

What does this mean?

Ever the therapist, I thought about how this has huge metaphorical implications. I’ve seen this happen in sessions as I build trust with a client. Someone will make a small but difficult self-disclosure. Then they’ll watch my face and listen to my response, and if they feel safe, if they don’t feel judged – in other words, if I don’t let them fall the few feet to the ground – they’re more likely to talk about something more challenging in a later session, and before we know it, we’re chipping away at feelings of shame and healing things the client never thought they would have the courage to talk to another person about.

But this is true in all relationships, not just in therapy. Think about the course of building a friendship. If a stranger at a party asks how you’re doing, you probably say you’re doing fine and force a smile, even if you’re feeling pretty lousy. The second time you meet the person, you might confess that you’re struggling a little bit, but tell them it’s no big deal and turn the conversation to how they’re doing. After a few weeks or months, you may let them in on some of the challenges in your life, and if they respond well, the friendship grows. The more you test the waters and learn that they’re supportive, the more willing you are to dare greatly with them in the future.

Not everyone approaches it this way. People bring different levels of boldness to their relationships. Some people don’t bother to test the ropes on a low, safe fall. Instead, they scale upwards to great heights without getting to know their belayer, and find themselves gravely injured. Others might remember times they’ve been dropped in the past and refuse to climb more than a few feet off the ground, even when this belayer has caught them time and time again. These folks stay safe, but never really grow. Either of these people can change if they address the things causing them to leap ahead or hold back, and if they decide they want to put in the effort, it can be really worth it to try.

Because ultimately, it’s the people who find that trust who end up building their skill set, getting stronger, trying more difficult terrain, and ultimately growing as a climber, and as a person.