I can hear my father now:
Jesus Christ, babe, that headline will sure scare em!
Me: Thanks, Dad. So will that ‘Jesus Christ’!
For real though, did you ever just feel like you want to be playing with your whole heart yet deep down inside, you know you’re not.
What do you do?
Read the Bible? Meditate on your favorite verse?
Then you realize this brings only a temporary relief.
So you get physical and go for a run? Or hit the batting cages?
Perhaps you do all these things and still feel unsettled. Nothing is taking this feeling away. What now?
Talk therapy over some dinner with your BFF, maybe?
What if it takes all of this and then some?
Here’s what I do: I write. I write to unpack things, to discover the center and go deeper. I write to bring me back, calm me down and retool.
A prime example for me is this book, G3. She is my baby. I am 150% in love with this project. Actually, make that 200%
To be honest, I didn’t think things would be taking this long. When I began interviewing athletes in earnest in March, I was unstoppable. Living my dream had never felt so good. I felt so connected.
Then around July I hit a wall of sorts. I was rejected by one of the “bigger fish” and continue to wait around for others. Herein lies the beginning of the disconnect…
But first I want to remind you, I’ve been going at this for over a year already. When I first started approaching athletes, I was rejected several times and ignored by agents and reps alike. I was not really fazed. I was tough. Determined.
“God is going to line me up with the right people at the right time, I know it,” I reasoned to myself. I whole-heartedly believed that. Still do.
But somewhere between July and August and up until very recently, the waiting and anxiety crashed the party. Enter the doldrums which dampened my mood and awakened that loud and persnickety voice of insecurity.
It’s not on your schedule. What were you thinking? This is taking too long.
So in my quest to get back into my whole heart where G3 is concerned, my writing showed me that sometimes faith isn’t enough.
Sometimes, like this particular time, it needed a companion. And since Tony Robbins wasn’t available — although I did dabble with him on YouTube. Thank you, sir! — my faith needed another loud, boisterous cheerleader to do battle with those dastardly doldrums. This cheerleader’s name is Hope (on steroids).
“Keep your head in the game. You got this! Things are working out for you. God’s got you.” Hope on steroids needed to push through the disconnect that I had falsely constructed and light a fire right under my butt.
Who knew faith wasn’t just a passive act? I didn’t. It isn’t just this natural, easy-breezy feeling as much as I want it to be. It takes noticing. Monitoring. Being honest and conscious with yourself and respectful of your time. Listening! It takes appreciating that awareness and perseverance to nix those doldrums before they get too carried away.
Darn, that’s a lot of work. But that’s where I’m at. I’m working my way back to being unstoppable. It’s equal parts work and trust because these things develop over time, like a muscle, and continue to open my heart to more faith.
After all, it is worth it. Now I see that those doldrums were really like a storm passing through. In the end, that storm has only fortified me. I remember that God is with me all the way and I am right where I need to be.
POSTSCRIPT: My father was a religious man but sometimes it was hard to tell with the way he cussed. I know that he and my mom are having a good laugh with me in heaven.