Everything I do is hard..

Everything I do is hard. Waking up, getting out of bed, leaving the house, going to work, the sports I participate in, and the art I create... and everything in between. And that's why, more often than not, you'll find me with a smile on my face. Everything I do is a great accomplishment.

All those simple things I used to take for granted is now like getting to the top of the mountain. That's not to say I'm going to wave a flag every time I stand up, but I am going to let those small victories make my day a little brighter. There are other moments that I may need to remember that I can do it. I live in a world of ups and downs. Of wondering if I'm good enough. Of thinking I shouldn't be pushing so hard, or trying something new. Of knowing how awesome it is to do the things I "shouldn't".

I grew up wanting to do the things the boys did and I was good at it. Whenever I did something well (or better), my brother excused it away; I got lucky, or the wind helped me, or the sun was in his eyes. It pushed me to get better and stronger to prove I could do it. So when I got into baseball, I could throw farther than the boys, and everything I did wrong was brought up over and over. This continued all through school. I also grew up in a family of critics, the kind of people that take anything good and ask why you didn't do better. Also, a family focused on results rather than the journey; a couple recent conversations informed me that I am, in fact, competitive; what I thought was competitive is actually being a poor sport. The difference is, my competitiveness is not why I participate.. I participate because I enjoy the journey, the challenge, learning and improving. In other words, I don't play to win, I play with a goal of winning.

The criticisms perpetuated my anxiety. And it has continued into my world of adaptive sports. Everyone that's shocked that I play sports. How some focus on my lower scores in archery as I learn something new or my lower speeds as my body changes. The lack of support because I'm doing something different or not what's expected or understood. These things hold me back, they make what I do harder than it needs to be.

A month ago, I participated in my first indoor rowing championship. And won! My dad teased me the rest of the day... "don't the boats hit the walls?" and naming every body of water in the area we could have used. It finally stopped when I simply told him that I had it on good authority that the machines don't float. Yesterday, it all came back as I had the audacity to dress for the weather so I could get some training out on the water this week. I had to explain the event (again) and defend why I was ready to possibly row in the rain. I got mad as I drove to training, my head wasn't in the right place, I got a bit more frustrated than I should have while adjusting to a new boat, and let the pain get to me more than usual. This is my life, explaining and defending. I don't mind the explaining and encourage questions, but I hate defending the decisions I've made for myself.

My relief in all this is my stubbornness to do what's best for me, to do the things I love wether or not the people I love understand why. And the breaks, my solace, come from those that support me and cheer me on no matter what; my coaches that have no doubt I'll keep pushing and believe that I'll reach whatever goals we've set; my fellow athletes that are happy to help me along and/or tell me how awesome I'm doing.