Your heart is pounding in your chest. You're standing behind the block. You look out over the water - 8 lanes, 25 yards, water as still as glass, one lane ahead. You look to your right to see your teammates, coaches, parents, fans supporting you. You adjust your cap on your head, hair tied up and tucked underneath. You feel pressure from your goggles on your forehead, and you move them over your eyes. You jump slightly up and down to calm the nerves. You step towards the block, hands on the edge, one foot up on the step. The whistle blows. You step up and put both feet on the block. The official on the side of the pool holds the microphone to his lips. "Swimmers take your mark..." One foot moves to the front of the block, the other one moves slightly behind. Your arms reach towards the edge of the block. Your fingers curl underneath the block. You duck your head slightly. This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for. All of your hard work, determination, grit, sweat, tears...this is your chance to perform. You can do it. Get ready to dive in. Get ready to feel it. You can do it. BEEP.
**
I started swimming when I was five years old. I was a good swimmer at an early age. In the 8 & under swimming age group, I broke almost every record in my summer league in two strokes (freestyle and butterfly.) I was tall, strong, and bigger than most of my competition, giving me an advantage. Due to my success early on, I (and others) put a lot of pressure on myself to continue being the best. I quickly graduated from swimming during summer league only (Jul-Aug) to all year round swimming as a 10 year old, which meant I only got 1-2 months off for the entire year. I loved swimming so it never bothered me how much time I was investing into the sport. However, the older I got, I experienced more anxiety as I started competing at a higher level. I felt enormous pressure before every race to perform each time I stepped onto the block. The only person responsible for the time on the clock at the end of the race is you. Unlike team sports, you can't look for someone to pass the ball to or yell out to someone if you need help...it's you and the water. Every time you race and look up at the clock and don't see the time you've worked so hard for, you're disappointed. But you keep going. You choose to show up at practice the next day because if you keep working hard, you can achieve anything you put your mind to...or so you've been told.
I believe that mind over matter is unbelievably powerful in athletics (for those of you who need a refresher, the term "mind over matter" is used to describe a situation in which someone is able to control a physical condition, problem, etc. by using the mind.) When you're pushing towards your physical limit, with the right attitude, you can keep going until you reach your intended goal. I have practiced implementing mind over matter in almost all aspects of my life at a young age, telling myself to stay positive and that things will be ok if I work hard and have the right attitude. In general, I thought it was successful. At age 25, I was married, owned a beautiful home in San Diego, had a dog, a stable job with a generous income, friends close by, and my health. I was doing it.
Flashforward to six years later - I was sitting in our master bathroom, on the edge of the bathtub, tears streaming down my face, at one of the lowest points in my adult life. I felt like life was passing me by and I had no control over it. Imagine a river - beautiful, serene, flowing, and inviting. However, when you step into the water, it's flowing faster than you thought, the rocks are slippery, and the current is strong. You can't swim. I couldn't swim. On the outside, I had a beautiful life, but inside I was empty. I was terrified, alone, and mind over matter wasn't working anymore. I did everything right, and yet I was at the lowest point in my life.
It took a few people closest to me to recognize that I needed help...but I didn't want to hear or believe it. I've always been able to solve things on my own, and surely if I kept taking care of myself, exercising, putting energy and love into my family and friends, I would feel better, right?
I was having deep thoughts, questioning my life purpose, confused how someone as successful, happy, motivated, and determined could have ended up here. It took courage, strength, and humility to admit I needed help. It was one of the hardest admissions I've ever made to myself. But since that day, I have never looked back.
Everyone needs help. Kids are taught and encouraged to ask for help and that it's ok. The experiences in my life have changed my ability and willingness to ask for help. Asking for help is normal, necessary, and does not signal weakness. In general, people want to help. When I say it out loud, it seems obvious. But for me, asking for help was similar to running a half marathon with zero training. I was embarrassed to admit I needed help, and I would rather forge on and fight for it until I figured it out than admit I couldn't do it on my own.
Over the past 15 years, I have significantly changed as a person in every aspect of my life. Going from collegiate athletics, to working full-time, to getting married, to becoming a mom, to rediscovering who I am and what I want out of my life. This blog is intended to be real, raw, and full of experiences that have taught me some of my deepest lessons. I will talk about communication, values, relationships, love, loss, personal growth, change, and parenting. I hope to inspire and help you the way I've learned to inspire and help myself. Because nobody should feel alone, and nobody should be afraid to seek help. I'm here to help. Let's continue the journey together.
**
Splash. Let's fucking go.