My fight.

I have never been punched in the face by a human fist. My nose has never bled, my body has never been thrown down to the ground by another. There was one time however that I woke up, dust in my eyes, facing second base, on my stomach, with the taste of blood in my mouth. I have always wanted to know if I got up right away. Did I lay there for some time? How long was it before I decided to find my spirit again? Did my team run to me? Was I alone?

It was the second pitch of the game. I was the allstar fastpitch pitcher. I had it all figured out. Fastball, curveball, slowball, riseball, you get the gist. Most importantly I had it all figured out in my head. I could stare down anyone. Play mind games. The funny thing about this story is that I was only sixteen years old. ----Where is my gumption now----

Tournament weekend. I had just been moved from the  reliefer to the starter. I was pumped. and then it happened. I was on my belly, staring at second base. I try to meditate on the exact moment. The moment when I was hit. I cannot feel or see anything. My ears only work. As the ball rolled off the bat all I can hear is an earsplitting crack, not from the bat, it happened inside my head and then I wake up. I can see second base. I watched the video later (much later). I pulled my glove up to catch the ball, but at only 32 feet away there is always room for error. The ball missed my glove and smashed into my jaw with such force that it knocked me down and around. The video cut out. All I want to know now is how long did I lay there? Who helped me up? Did I stand on my own? How do we find the strength to get back up when we have been beaten?

Believe me, I had been beaten. 6 innings later I was rushed to the ER and I spent the next week in the ICU. There were concerns about my well being, to say the least. But in the moment, the very moment of defeat all I can remember is longing to push through, to keep going. I pitched the next 6 innings. My mouth was so bloody from my braces and my jaw so sore that my sister chewed bubble gum for me to get it soft enough for me to gnaw on.  But yes, I pitched the next 6 innings. We lost. I lost. In the sixth inning, I began to feel like I could not breath. My neck had developed a large hemotoma that was blocking some of my airway. I have been told I passed out. There was an ambulance. There are stories of my Dad wanting to perform a tracheotomy with a slurpee straw. I spent the next 24 hours throwing up while the doctors started to realize I may be allergic to morphine. 7 days later, after a few seizures, tests and more tests, I found myself at the oral surgeon's office getting my mouth wired shut. I was lucky enough to have been given wire cutters to carry around in the case that I vomitted. They didn't want me to suffocate.

I had been beaten. They say after a significant head trauma a person can experience minor personality shifts. Really? Who can differentiate this syndrome with a 16 year old turning 17 or even 18. Who's to say?

I don't relate this story so that you can feel bad for me. No, not today. I simply want to know where my kickass self has hid herself....I do not give up easy. Lately however, I have felt my world tumble and groan. How long did I lay in the dirt? Why did I decide to get up? These are questions that I am pondering tonight. It's okay to be hit. It's okay to be hurt. That's part of the game. It's what you decide to do after that hit that really matters. Tonight I am facing another second base. My lovely kids are proofing my undoing. I need to get up. I WILL  get up. I am looking up for a hand up.  The bigger question though, once I find my way up, will I fight?

Within the love of the game we find the strength. The strength to stand back up and the strength to keep fighting. I will stand up tomorrow and I will fight tomorrow because I love my kids. I love them more than what I think love stands for. So it goes, my fight. For me, it is only the fight that matters. I have lost before. I have won before. Pushing through to the other side, now that is truly what it is all about.  Scorekeepers, please put down your pencils. I play for the love of the game. This is what I now must remember.

My Mountain

When the grit, the determination, and the fortitude that is takes to climb my mountain hide themselves away from me I sit and ponder whether I have picked the right mountain. As I sit I feel my body relax. At what point do I give up and start the decent? If I sit long enough will my determination find me again? Or will I forget my journey and live half way up never fully able to commit?

Three options. My soul always says, "carry on." My body shouts, "go down." My personality thinks it might be fun (quirky) to try living half way up. Living half way up does have its advantages I think. I feel my body melt further into the ground. Seconds may go by, days, years before I discover the unhappiness that comes from living half way up. My aversion to progress, up or down the mountain, starts to affect my thoughts, behaviour, feelings and physical well-being. It is no longer fun to live half way up. Decision time.

What will it be? Some times I choose to descend. My past chose the wrong mountain for my future. On October 8, 2010 I sat in front of my computer ready to pen my resignation notice to MultiCare Health System. My working family for the past 15 years. MultiCare had given me a job at 18 years of age as a records clerk, had always supported my decision to transfer within the company (many times), and had thought it a good idea to decrease my hours so that I could go back to college. It allowed me to meet hundreds of people that eventually became close friends. It gave me direction, taught be to be a team player and leader and how to find the determination it costs to get the job done (the right way). MultiCare watched me date, get married, buy a house and eventually have kids. Everyday I put in the grit at work and put in just as much bravery at home.

My love and I struggled and scrambled up our mountain; having two incomes, a house and children to support. It was not easy. Fifteen years later I decided to sit down and ponder my mountain. There were two sets of meetings to juggle, two sets of working hours to adjust for, two separate kid's schedules with very specific needs to haggle over, my Love's overseas travel schedule (which could leave me single for 10 - 14 days at a time), there was sickness, time off work, miscommunication, money, food to prepare, tired children, work to do at home, further education for both my Love and me, a nanny to employ, daycare to pay for, work-out schedules to keep -- not to mention the laundry, dishes and house maintenance that had to be accomplished.  Did I want to carry on? I lived half way up for about three months.

On October 8, 2010 this is what I wrote:

"As you know, my husband and I have been re-examining our financial situation over the last couple of months. Also, this last month _______ began kindergarten and we put ______ in daycare. Both of these transitions have been hard on our family. Eric's non-profit has been doing fantastic. In his Executive Director role he has been and will be taking on much more responsibility, will be increasing his daytime work hours, and traveling out of country much more. This has already been a hardship for us with our present situation of sharing the child/home duties. As you recall I came to you a few months ago and asked if there was any way I could work part time so that I could be more of a support for my family. At that time there was not an opportunity to decrease my FTE. I have spent this last couple of  months thinking over my options and weighing all aspects of my life. I finally came to the conclusion that being responsible and supportive to and for my family is one of the most important values in my life. My children and my husband deserve this."

On November 5, 2010 I started my journey down. On November 6, 2010 I started my journey up a new mountain. I have to be honest, this new mountain has many more pitfalls, unexpected terrain and crazy hurricanes. I am a long way off from half way up. I find though that sitting down more often to contemplate my upward movement is a gift worth giving myself. Don't wait until you are half way up your mountain to sit and relax. Take time every day to evaluate your mountain climb and ask yourself if it is worth it. Take time to map out your quest so that you don't find yourself at an impass. And don't forget that descending is just as prestigious as making the ascent. It is the living half way up that will kill you.

Exercise

This is an exercise. Writing. Forming sentences. Thinking about grammar (I don't do this very well). Structuring paragraphs. Creating the end before the beginning. Tonight I wanted to write. But, alas, I have no strong emotions, no unanswered business (at least I am not so inclined to want to scratch beneath the surface on this evening) So, this is my exercise. My discipline.

If you could see my unfinished blog entries you would undoubtedly be impressed. I get half way through. I'm interrupted. I never finish. Once interrupted I never go back. What is written was meant to be. For me. No more. But there was one entry that impressed even me. I started writing it the day after my last blog entry (Lady at the Top of the Tower). I have copied it below for anyone interested in my conflicted soul. I have left it unfinished - as it should be.

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 It IS the Mountain.

As humans, we have to somehow scramble, struggle and inch our way to the top of the mountain if we are to transform (change would be a good word, less religious) ourselves. It cannot be every mountain, and it cannot be any mountain. It has to be a mountain worth dying for. The mountain climb may take one whole life or it may take seconds. We should not fool ourselves, this mountain climb is for ourselves only. It is a purely selfish experience but something that is vital for personhood. There is no giving up. There is only forward movement. The grit and determination should be palpable. We should long for the goal. Our dreams should be consumed by it. And when the top is reached we should congratulate ourselves and begin the journey back down as quickly as possible so as not to get caught up in the moment. For it is in the climb that we find what we are looking for. At the point of summiting the view should not be taken into account; it should not mesmerize us. It should only serve as a marker.