Evolution
Journal entries from a tumultuous break at practice; infused with quotes from Impact.
11 May 2024
Coaching is such a binary right now. I’m either laughing with/at the silliness of 11 to 14-year-olds or trying not to have a panic attack/breakdown from some realization.
And it doesn’t help that I coach out of the field I died at six years ago [this is so dramatic, hehe].
…
I didn’t even let myself fantasize about playing ball freshman year for many a reason:
I didn’t want to play with my fellow freshmen — there was beef between parents when we were young and I didn’t want to add extra stress to my life in the present.
My “best friend” wasn’t playing so even if she made the freshman team, it wouldn’t outweigh the negativity from others and myself–it would [possibly] add to it.
I was going through a lot.
I had low self-esteem in all areas of my life.
The previous October I had my first concussion. I hadn’t played sports in the time between then and tryouts.
“I remember being certain I would be back to work by September, and then November, then for sure by December. / I remember my bones feeling hollow after a two-hour meeting on the first day of my graduated return to work in late January.” (Dianah Smith 57)
So, even though junior year an old softball friend told me I would’ve made varsity as a freshman just as she did (she was the only freshman to do so that year), I didn’t believe her at the time and still have a hard time believing it.
I was so serious from the ages of ~11-14 that all the light and joy I once found in softball was gone.
I had no idea who I was in general so when the only thing I ever truly identified with became another source of negativity (more like: I didn’t know how to feel emotions, nor had the space to be vulnerable, + the concussions—I bottled everything up and it seeped into places I never wanted to be ‘tainted’), I gave up ever knowing myself for another year.
“With a concussion, everything is magnified. Emotions are stronger. It is easier to cry or become overemotional. Logic is elusive. The brain moves like an angry spider, darting from thought to thought.” (Alexis Kienlen 148)
Something I realized today: if I had made varsity as a freshman, I would have had to face the reality that I was already so far from my childhood best friend. She would’ve been petty about me knowing and playing ball with other people, especially upperclassmen.
I didn’t want to see her be fake happy about something I would’ve been proud of.
…
I wanted to be great. I don’t know how good I was—never at any age, I couldn’t accurately tell you my level of playing. But I always wanted more; I still do.
24 May 2024
I miss leading. I miss the interconnectedness you share with teammates. We understand where the ball is going. We rely on one another to get the ball there. We believe in each other to get the ball there.
There was security in that connection. A security I have only felt briefly outside of softball–with friends who care for me wholeheartedly.
Yesterday I asked my dad: I wonder when the next time I will feel the same competitiveness I felt then. This made us both think–I am not sure when and I do not know what his answer is.
I felt so secure when playing ball–in myself and many of my teammates throughout the years. Even if I was friends with some of those girls in school, I was most sure of myself on the dirt. It was the only place I knew my role–even if adversaries (parents and bully teammates) would try to bring me and my father down.
I tried not to care what other parents said about me or my father. It was he who taught their daughters how to play. It was me balling out, it was me understanding that we all sat equally as small children, it was me not paying attention to their weird behaviors.
It always felt so good to be on the field–even if I had big emotions or wanted more. It felt good to move my body, to get the ball from point A to point B. To celebrate my teammates in both up and down moments.
I knew what I was doing and even if I didn’t, I would try to show up for the moment.
(Exhibit A. I took those five ground balls to the shin because I had something to prove–even if I didn’t know what exactly, I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to play…I was 12 at a workout targeted for athletes ages 15-17.)
I would support my father or my teammates when a parent didn’t know what they were talking about.
Why did this never translate into my sociability as an adolescent? Maybe because this behavior I modeled originated from older athletes I watched as a child–I only saw these role models on or surrounding the field. Maybe because my leadership could only be taken in small bites and thus compartmentalized to be only on the field and not in the friend group. Because eventually, someone else's words/behavior will get to me and I will make myself small to be accepted in someplace I cannot opt out of (school).
I had envisioned major plot points in my story to become a collegiate athlete. Throwing gloves in the air as the competitive team I find home in wins a gut-wrenching game. Small ball, sliding into bases, throwing on the run, catching first & thirds, talking to college coaches, and playing on show-case teams.
Envisioning myself each time I hit a ball–from the first swing at a small age to some time in my college career in blues or bright green.
I had grown up in this environment. I watched my aunt and her teammates win large tournaments in and out of state; I watched her play Division 2 collegiate softball. I took care of the high school dugout at the age of 9/10 just to be around my dad’s high school and travel teams.
Though no one compared me to my aunt, I wanted to be as good as her–no, I wanted to be greater. I wanted to be the leader she was. I wanted to be a wall at third base. I wanted to be able to play any position that was needed. I wanted to compete. I wanted to be a part of a team that wanted to win; that was on the same page.
I’m 20 years old and I still want that. I haven’t picked up a ball in a competitive capacity in 5 years and yet I still want all of those things. When does one stop wanting? Especially when fear and anger are ingrained in my concussive rewiring.
June 2024
I’ve decided to take a break from coaching to focus on my health.