Following on from her article earlier in the month detailing her top five physical techniques for shorter climbers, Tina Breslin explores some psychological approaches to help climbers of all sizes, but which might be particularly helpful for those at the shorter end of the spectrum!

Climbing is often called a personal journey—but that's easier to believe when you already match the height and wingspan of the people who created the grading system. When you're on the smaller side, constantly forced into harder variations—it gets tiring. Sometimes, we just want the climb to feel as hard as the grade suggests, without having to play a forced elimination game.

Of course, climbing is a personal journey—and everyone faces their own battles on the wall, but if your shorter friend is struggling (again), maybe give them a little grace for the grumbles. Chances are, it's not about you. It's about feeling excluded, unseen, and like you have to work harder for the same thing that comes more naturally to others. If you're short—I get it. You're not alone.

This article isn't about complaining or giving up (though I'm not ashamed to say I've done both before). If you can learn to push through the frustration, take grades with a pinch (or fistful) of salt, and not get too caught up in how unfair it can sometimes feel, the payoff is huge. There's nothing quite like cracking a sequence that once felt impossible—not by growing taller, but by climbing smarter and, in the process, growing as a person too.

Whilst I've already highlighted some useful physical techniques that might help you work your way through a seemingly impossible move or sequence, shifting your focus to the mental side of climbing can be just as useful when trying to unlock routes that feel out of reach.

These five mindset tools have helped me go from only trying climbs I'd heard other shorties had done, to attempting whatever inspires me—and even actively seeking out reachy lines. The satisfaction of breaking the beta and finding your own way through is far greater than simply cruising the same path as everyone else.

1. Acceptance and Confidence

Climbing brings a unique mix of frustration and creative problem-solving. While it's tempting to rage against the unfairness of it all, resisting reality only drains energy you could be using to climb. One of the most powerful mindset shifts you can make is learning to accept your constraints—and allowing them to shape you in a positive way.

There are loads of brilliant short climbers out there—but odds are, they're brilliant not because it came easily, but because of how they responded when it didn't. They adapted what they could physically, but more importantly, they developed a resilient, tenacious, and deeply creative mindset. You'll have to do that too.

Acceptance doesn't mean pretending things aren't harder, or forcing yourself to enjoy the fact that they are. It means choosing curiosity over self-pity, and working with the body you've got instead of wishing for a different one. Wishing you were someone else won't make you a better climber—it just chips away at your confidence. Let go of the fight against things you can't control—your height, the grading system, other people's perceptions—and you'll be free to focus on what is in your power.

When I stopped assuming I couldn't do things because of my height—before even trying—and started seeing it as an opportunity to get more creative, my confidence grew. Acceptance doesn't mean giving up; it means leaning into your own strengths and letting challenges shape you into a smarter, more adaptable climber.

Confidence builds over time. The more you stop fixating on what you lack, the more you start to trust what you do have—even if it looks different or takes longer to get there. Try reflecting on what went well after a session: committing when scared, spotting sneaky beta, or just showing up when you didn't feel like it. These small wins matter. The more you notice them, the quieter that "I'm not enough" voice becomes.

You also can't control how others see you—or whether they understand your experience. Accepting that frees you from needing their validation. Surround yourself with people who lift you up, whether that's supportive friends, other climbers of a similar body type, or just a community that helps you feel seen.

Confidence isn't just built on the wall. Sometimes it's the small stuff—wearing your new t-shirt, listening to your favourite playlist, placing pads well, asking for a power spot, putting a top rope on something—whatever helps you show up feeling strong and ready to try your best.

Acceptance means shifting your focus from frustration to possibility. That's where confidence begins to grow. This mindset doesn't just shape your climbing—it shapes how you see yourself, both on and off the wall.

2. Sustainable Sources of Psyche

What's the secret to staying in love with climbing for as long as your body will let you?

If it becomes just about the grade or the send, it won't be sustainable, you can't keep exponentially improving or always climbing at your limit. Motivation based solely on sending or grade-chasing burns out fast.

Let go of the idea that grades are the ultimate measure. There's a temptation to prove you're just as capable, to climb the grades your friends climb, even if it means pushing yourself to the edge. But we already know grades aren't necessarily fair or consistent—especially for short climbers. When you climb for yourself, that pressure lifts. Your focus shifts from seeking validation to enjoyment. You stay present, climb because you love it—and your performance usually improves because of that!

Choose goals that mean something to you personally. A goal that includes a process—working on being more dynamic, more proficient at arete climbing, feeling confident falling above the bolt—can keep you feeling connected and engaged. If you don't manage to send the climb you had in mind, you might still accomplish a process-goal whilst trying!

Maybe even more important than goals, try to keep sight of what truly motivates you—not just what looks good on Instagram or what your friends are projecting. What made you fall in love with climbing in the first place? What will keep you climbing when you're older, or if you have to take a step back from pulling hard?

For me, it's being outside in wild, beautiful places. I'm drawn to bold, intimidating lines that ask me to stay calm and focused—where my mind feels most clear and at ease. I love the mental stillness that comes from trying hard, and the satisfaction of unlocking creative beta I didn't think was possible. That's what brings me the most joy and makes me feel most like myself. The grade of the climb, or how bold it is on paper, might change with time, but I can always find a climb to match me where I'm at.

For you, it might be the social side—the sense of community, or that post-work escape when you've been staring at a screen all day. Maybe it's trying really hard. Maybe it's the simple joy of moving over stone. Whatever it is, do more of it, and don't let someone else's version of success make you forget what yours is.

What grades you climb can't keep growing forever, but your relationship with climbing can. So find your own sustainable sources of psyche, and protect them like it matters—because it does.

3. Tenacity and Resilience—Tactical Patience

Being a shorter climber often demands a deeper kind of perseverance. It's not just about physical effort—it's about showing up when the moves feel out of reach or progress feels invisible.

There's a difference between recognising that a move is harder and deciding it's impossible. The former is awareness; the latter is a wall you build yourself. When you feel yourself shutting down, before you dismiss the beta, ask yourself: "What if I give it one more go, with full effort?"

Trying hard isn't just about muscles—it's a skill. Self-doubt, fatigue, poor conditions, or longing for longer arms can cloud your effort. Try committing fully for just a few attempts. Practise trying hard when it doesn't matter, and create small cues to help your mind switch on: music, a self-belief mantra, powerful breathing, clapping excess chalk from your hands—whatever helps you reset and go all in. Then, when it counts, use those cues to flick on the "try hard" switch.

Linked to trying hard is tenacity—the optimistic cousin of stubbornness. It's choosing to stay with the problem a little longer, even when it's frustrating, because deep down you believe there might be a way. That mindset of persistence and curiosity turns limitations into opportunities to learn.

Sometimes, the answer won't come straight away. You might need to walk away and come back with a clearer head or a fresher body. Resilience means recognising that progress doesn't always look like sending. Success today might be staying calm, trusting tiny feet a little more, or simply being kinder to yourself. Sometimes the send will take longer—more attempts, more creativity, more rest days. Maybe you won't send it at all. That's OK too. Not every project has to be ticked today, or ever. All your effort adds up—bank what you've learned, and spend it on another climb.

Tenacity is a skill. Resilience is a habit. Trying hard takes practise. Not getting to the top isn't weakness—it's just your climbing taking the scenic route, and sometimes that's where the best views are.

4. Self-Reflection and Filming—The Mirror to Improvement

The breakthrough doesn't always come from another attempt—it comes from watching and analysing the ones that didn't work.

Filming yourself can feel awkward at first. There's the self-consciousness of setting up a tripod, the cringe of watching yourself fall off again, and the temptation to only hit record when you think you're about to send. But your attempts—especially the messy ones—are like a weathered map dotted with hidden clues. Each fall reveals more of the route, if you're willing to trace it patiently.

You fall off: "I hate this problem, my stupid arms are too short!" Let's pause. Sit down. Watch the footage back. Try to distance yourself from the emotions and look with curiosity. Slow it down and ask why you really fell. Was it because you didn't have enough reach? Or did you lose tension through your foot, causing it to pop off just before your arm reached its full height potential? Were you truly committed, or does your glance to the floor mid-move reveal a flicker of hesitation?

Video gives you the distance to be honest with yourself, to see - without bias - what actually happened in the moment. The goal isn't to pick yourself apart, it's to understand yourself better. Self-reflection through filming helps you become your own coach.

Over time, you might notice patterns: your hips sag more than you realised, or you need to address your fear of falling. These insights can be really helpful when you're just a few inches short of the next hold and tiny beta tweaks or little shifts in focus might be the thing between you and the send. It also might be the evidence you need to keep trusting your sequence, even though it looks different from everyone else's.

Reflection isn't just for physical movement either. After a session, ask yourself: What felt good today? What didn't? How can I improve? What am I grateful for?

If you journal, jot down a few notes. If not, even a quiet moment on the walk back to the car can be enough to mentally check in. The aim isn't constant improvement, it's awareness. That awareness helps separate genuine physical limitations from the stories we tell ourselves.

Filming and reflection won't fix everything, but they'll help you stop repeating the same mistakes. They'll show you what's possible, even when it doesn't feel it, and sometimes, they'll remind you just how close you already are—and how far you've come.

5. Trust—Your Feet, Yourself, the Process

Being short often means committing to insecure movement: bad feet, poor holds, long reaches, wild swings, off-balance clips. There's less room for error, and more need for trust.

But that trust isn't blind, it's built. You don't just start trusting tiny footholds or committing to big moves with uncertain landings. You practise. You work up to it.

Say the thought of weighting a small foothold a few metres off the ground scares you. You half-commit, your foot slips, and you fall, nervous to try the same move again. You've recognised this might be a trust issue—so dial it back. Practise on insecure footholds close to the ground. As you gain confidence, slowly progress to worse footholds or higher positions. Bring the challenge to a level where you're not terrified, but a little uncomfortable. Adjust the environment until you strike that balance: ask for a power spot, add more mats, or get your belayer to take more weight on the rope than usual.

Avoiding things that scare you won't help you improve, but neither will closing your eyes and charging full speed at them. Work your way up slowly. Keep self-reflecting so you don't push too far and try not to compare your fear or progress timeline to anyone else's. Remember that if you consistently feel stuck, it's totally valid to seek professional help.

Learning to trust yourself follows the same pattern. Reflect on the moments where you rose to a challenge or did the thing that once felt impossible. Keep reminding yourself of your capabilities. Trust the process. Progress is rarely linear—especially when the system we use to measure it (grades) is inconsistent at best. Trust that your efforts add up. The growth is happening, even when it's hard to see.

Small Stature, Big Mindset

Being a shorter climber will always come with challenges, but it can also shape your greatest strengths. When you accept the body you're in and climb for the joy of it - not just for grades - the mental tools you develop, both through necessity and intention - resilience, creativity, self-awareness, self-compassion, focus - become the very reason you keep coming back, even when progress feels slow.

So, don't waste time wishing for longer limbs. The beta you find, the patience you build, the mindset you grow, those are things that stretch far beyond climbing. Honestly? I'm starting to think we're the lucky ones.