Ski School & Reparenting Yourself on the Bunny Hill
“The most sophisticated people I’ve ever known had one thing in common: they were all in touch with their inner children.”
Every time I teach adult beginners, I am always somehow shocked at the unique vulnerability of standing on skis for the first time. Doctors, lawyers, marketers, academics, it doesn’t matter. The solid world beneath your otherwise accomplished feet literally slides away. Your knees wobble while fearless toddlers in neon helmets zoom past like tiny missiles. Instructors wielding hoola hoops and excessive cheerfulness herringbone alongside the magic carpet, the sight of which fills you with dread.
Behold the bunny hill, aka the perfect place to say what’s up to your inner child.
Learning Feels Like Re-Learning Who You Are
By middle age, most of us aren’t used to sucking at things anymore. We’ve curated competence. We’re invested in careers whose dividends mean we can afford the luxury of ski trips complete with pricey lessons. We are told again and again to “lean into” our strengths. But on the magic carpet, none of that matters. You’re back to square fucking one. A beginner again.
But who is this new-old version of you? The one who relies on another for safety and direction? They’re scared. They’re trying. They’re hoping someone will be patient with them, pick them up when they fall, and offer hot chocolate when it’s all over.
This Is Where Inner Child Work Sneaks In
In pop psychology, inner child work means tending to the parts of yourself that are still holding old fear, shame, or unmet needs.
The bunny slope gives you a live-action reenactment of those often unconscious parts. The magic carpet is the therapist’s couch, except you must therapize yourself here. Notice the kneejerks: when you fall and get frustrated, do you scold or soothe yourself? When others watch, do you shrink or show up anyway?
How you treat yourself on the hill echoes how you were treated when you first learned anything as a kid.
Skiing Gives You a Chance to Reparent Yourself
Each clumsy turn, each slow ascent on the magic carpet, becomes a chance to offer what you didn’t get back then:
Encouragement instead of criticism
Curiosity instead of judgment
Permission to play instead of pressure to perform
Look again at those straightlining toddlers sobbing or giggling all around you. Now, watch the parents waiting to catch them at the bottom. The vast majority don’t care if their kids are graceful or goofy. They’re filming every second with enormous grins on their faces. Internalize being proud of persistence, not perfection. That’s reparenting in motion.
Progress is a side effect of compassion. This is not Victorian England where we beat our way to success; humans learn faster when they’re kind to themselves. We take more risks. We bounce back quicker. We start to enjoy the process, not just the progress.
And just like that, the bunny hill changes from humiliation zone to healing space. When you choose to begin again—especially when it’s uncomfortable—you don’t just learn how to ski. You learn how to be gentle with yourself. You can rewrite old scripts. You make your adult self available to your younger self: I’ve got you now, kid, and you’re doing great.