An Honest Return

To be honest, I forgot about this blog until today. It came up on my Facebook memories. It's weird how I can feel so different but seem to be in the same spot as I was two years ago.

This would've been my fifth year, my last year as a university athlete. But while my friends are posting pictures of their last home games, I am still struggling through physio, trying to stay pain free. And it's hard.

I'm trying to remember that most people don't make it to year 5. Our bodies don't last. Our wallets don't last (remember that in Canada, a 'full ride' doesn't exist). We get tired of school, we get too old, we get cut, we blow out our knees (or backs) or we get bored.

Basketball is the only thing I haven't finished. And it still hurts to have left it unfinished.

Quitting basketball was a good choice. I was slowly losing muscle function in my back and legs. I didn't sleep at night. I had started to get intense anxiety when I had to go to practice or workout with certain teammates. I was depressed, I had stopped going to class.

So why does this thing that was so bad for me, hurt so much? Why wasn't it an easy choice? Why 3 years later, am I still not over it?

Because it was also good for me. It gave me community when I had none. It gave me friendships with people I wouldn't have met otherwise.

But my mind couldn't handle another season stuck in a toxic program any more than my body could handle any more strain.

I think what bothers me the most is that I didn't know my last game would be my last. I didn't really get to leave the game on my terms. And that, more than anything is what I wanted.

Even if most people don't get it either.

Retaliation vs Forgiveness.

We've all been hurt.  In fact, some of us are currently in a state of hurt.  A state of sadness and confusion mixed with the odd flair of anger. Being hurt is like floating down a river, at any moment it can pull you under. It's not a linear process, it's messy and there are setbacks and triggers and moments of weakness that make you wonder whether you are moving forward at all.

As humans we learn two ways of coping with hurt: forgiveness and retaliation. We know that forgiveness is the right answer, if it were on a multiple choice test we would all pick it because every children's story we've ever read tells us that revenge is not satisfying.  But it is.  In the moment it makes us feel strong, like justice has finally been served.  

However, retaliation is not a long term solution. It's like drinking a soda when you are dehydrated.  In the moment it's great but it's not what's best for you.  Retaliation forces you to be consumed by the situation.  Now your attention is taken away from the things you love and the people you care about.  When you choose retaliation you choose to donate your time and effort to the person to hurt you.

Secondly, there is not such thing as getting even.  There is only tipping the scales.  Forgiveness guarantees one healed person.  Retaliation guarantees two hurt people. Forgiveness promises that the hurt stops there.  Retaliation promises that it never ends.

So why don't we choose forgiveness?  It seems like a no brainer right? Well, here's what we don't like about forgiveness: 

1. It does not guarantee that the other person will regret their actions.  They might not ever be sorry for what they did.  Forgiveness means that what they did does not own you, it means you move forward regardless of where they are at.

2. It's hard. Forgiveness is like rehabing a bad injury.  It sucks.  It's so much work to be able to do something that seems so simple.  Forgiveness is more than a one time choice, it's a commitment.  Forgiveness is a commitment to move forward even when the perfect opportunity for retaliation arises, it's a commitment that even when you are exhausted and hurt you will continue to try.  But like rehab forgiveness gives us the chance to overcome that which has left us broken.

I'm in the midst of intense hurt, the kind that doesn't feel like it will ever go away.  And to be honest, I am a long, long way forgiveness....

  

Home?

When I left Edmonton I thought it would be somewhere I could always belong.  I imagined bring my kids to the house my parents owned.  I imagined returning every year at Christmas.  I wanted to transfer to U of A after my second year of college.  It was home.

This is the first time I have been back in Edmonton in 4 years, I mean really back.  I've been back for basketball games and to spend a few hours with my brother. But for the next two months I will be here. Everyday.  Dealing with the traffic and construction.  Avoiding tourist attractions during peak times. I will wake up here and go to sleep here.

In the shadows of familiarity hide the shadows of who I used to be.  They are the remnants of a former life, with former dreams and aspirations.  It is not a bad thing to grow up.  It is not terrible to change, in fact I am proud of a lot of the change in my life.  The fact that I am not the same 18 year old who left Edmonton nearly 5 years ago is a good thing.

It might very well be that this city will never be home again.  But I do belong here, in this moment.  I belong wherever I choose to be.  And I choose to be here.

Better Time

My heart is feels heavy, like there is an ocean of something bound up inside it.  It has been just over a month since my grandfather died.  In April when I heard that his health was not good, I went to see him.  The older I had gotten the less involved we had been in each other's lives.  When we reconnected in April it was awkward and a little bit painful.  The last time I had spoken to Papa prior to that was more than 4 years ago. 4 years!  4 years of not speaking, not even wishing Merry Christmas or happy birthday to each other. 4 years of wasted time. 4 years of nothing but the occasional unanswered text.  I became an adult in those four years.  I’ve changed and become an almost completely different person so when I went to see him in April we were strangers in a lot of ways.  I am so thankful for the chance we had to reconnect, I’m thankful that we got to play crib and make plans to see each and promise to do better.  Unfortunately we will not have the chance to make good on those promises.

In the end, I don't wish for more time.  I don't wish he had stayed alive connected to tubes and in pain.  I don't wish that his suffering had been prolonged.  What I want is better time.  I wish we could have spent the time together when he was healthy and himself.  I wish we hadn't used distance as an excuse.  I wish we had tried harder. Because here's the thing, Papa was not a bad person. I believe he loved me, I believe he wanted to have a relationship with me.  What I want is better time.  I want phone calls and visits.  I want that same time used differently.  I want the time I spent wondering if I ever crossed his mind, spent reminding him that he had crossed mine.

I have all kinds of memories of my Papa.  The time we spent two hours trying to fix a dent in my car. I will remember him as a man who cared about people that were otherwise overlooked.  I will remember him as the man who tugged on my ponytails, who loved getting text messages but hated sending them, who for some strange reason used peroxide for everything.  I will remember someone that was full of ideas, he was always building and inventing.  He was the only person in world I let call me Kenzie because no one else ever said it quite like him.

We don't always wish we had more time. What we want, really want is to have used the time we had better.  We want the moments we let slip away back, so we can make the most of those minutes.  But the hands of time only move forward. Though we claim we just need more time, what we needed was to show compassion instead of anger, we needed to make memories instead of excuses.  We can’t now.  It’s too late.  The time is gone and we can’t get any of it back.

What we can do is learn.  This year I learned very painfully that I need to focus on better time.  Not more just better.

An Honest Resolution: Fitness Done Differently

What You Need To Know (the boring background stuff):

While playing basketball I fell on my back and twisted three of the vertebrae over onto a nerve cluster.  I went to a physiotherapist and I was told I had a weak core.  By the end of the season I couldn't straighten my back and I had pain from my lower back down into my legs.  When I went home for the summer I went to a chiropractor.  After a bunch of x-rays and scans, I was told that the damage might be permanent and the chiropractor was surprised I could still walk.  Luckily I starting making progress after a couple weeks. Unluckily I ended the summer with a few injuries (driveway basketball is intense in my family) and a nasty car accident which was a huge setback.

So What?
Well I love fitness, I like being at the gym.  I like lifting and running windsprints and doing chin-ups. Having an injury and stepping away from basketball has been difficult and it has also changed how I approach fitness.  So one of my resolutions this year was to commit to approaching fitness the right way.


Fitness looks different for me now.  Since I hurt my back I have not been able to do much weightlifting.  I can't run with my weighted vest, I can't do any top loaded weights, I can't do any exercises involving twisting or leaning.  The gym used to be a place where I could really push myself and now I have to be so careful. As an athlete I understand the importance of pushing limits, in fact I love the challenge of it. I did very serious damage to my back and even though a lot of it is not permanent, I am still in a very delicate stage of rehab. The point is my fitness goals have to take into account my injury and that means that pushing myself has to take place within certain limits (I know it seems paradoxical but stick with me here).  For me this means less time lifting and more time stretching, it means I have to give up a lot of HIIT workouts and focus on slow, controlled movements.  It's not forever, it's just for this season in my life.

I am fit for me.  Sometimes I feel embarrassed to go to the gym.  Sometimes I feel like my workouts are insignificant because I can't lift the amount I used to lift or because my workouts are shorter.  I weigh about 25 pounds less than I did at the end of the season last year.  Sometimes my body feels like a ghost, and I can't put the weight back on because the only thing that helped me maintain the weight in the first place was lifting.  Sometimes I feel small and weak and like I have no business at a gym.  Even though those feelings are very real, they are not the reality of the situation. The only time I am weak is when I don't do something because I'm afraid of what other people think.  It doesn't matter whether I gain weight or not, it doesn't matter how long I am at the gym.  It doesn't matter whether I lift 100 pounds or 10 pounds.  I am building good habits for the future, I am maintaining a foundation so that one day I can build on it.

I used to win a lot more arm wrestles

None of my pants fit anymore but it's fine because belts are fun... right?

An Honest Resolution: Rushing

Another of my resolutions this year was to get away from rushing.  I completely understand that rushing is an inevitability but there are times when we rush for no other reason than we are used to rushing.  There's nothing wrong with rushing.  There are times when I can't afford not to rush.  I'm in school and working and attempting to maintain some semblance of a social life, sometimes I rush.

So this year I am making a concerted effort to reduce the amount of rushing I do and here's why:

Rushing is exhausting.
Rushing causes stress, prolonged stress is bad for you.  Elevated heart rate, irritability, anxiety: these are all related to rushing.  Think about walking a kilometre, a relatively short walk and afterwards you can go about your day no problem.  Now think about sprinting a kilometre, not only can you hurt yourself if you aren't prepared, afterwards you are sweating and out of breath.  This is what rushing does, you can get things done faster but it comes at a higher cost.

Rushing is not being efficient with my time, it is being irresponsible with my time.
Now I realize this isn't always the case but when you are constantly late or almost late, you aren't making the best use of your time you are just using more of your time to do less.  For me this means knowing what my day looks like the night before, this means double checking dates and times so I am not second guessing where I'm supposed to be.  It can also be packing my book bag so I'm not wandering aimlessly around the apartment trying to find odds and ends.  And finally (and this saves me so much time) I put my keys and my wallet in the same place the moment I walk through the door so that if something comes up suddenly I can be out the door faster. If you are hurrying because you don't have time, you've probably wasted it somewhere.

Rushing is overwhelming
After playing basketball for so long, I'm used to having every minute of the day scheduled.  I'm used to having the mentality that if something doesn't get done right now it won't get done. So now I have to schedule in quiet moments.  If I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, I take the stairs instead of the elevator to give myself 5 flights of quiet.  I head to campus 10 minutes early so I can sit and write for a bit or go through my notes or listen to a couple songs.

Being overwhelmed is a big struggle for me, it can be the beginning of the end for me.  The moment I start to feel in over my head I begin to shut down; I stop feeling motivated, I stop communicating and sometimes I'll even stop eating and sleeping.  Now I've got ways of coping with this, I break things down into smaller chunks (lists are the best way to get things done), I look at my schedule day-to-day not as a whole week, I remind myself how much time I actually have but, it makes my life so much easier if I can reduce the number of things that cause me to feel overwhelmed.

So far this has been a tough resolution to stick to, especially mid week when I'm tired but I'm finding that the more I get into a routine, the easier it is to minimize rushing.

Down-sizing and Who I Used to Be

I made a number of New Years resolutions this year and a really big one on my list was downsizing.  I'm 21, I am at one of the few times in my life where I will be able to pick up and go without hesitation.  The only thing really holding me back is the fact that I have too much stuff so I've decided to live with less and get rid of the things I no longer need/use.

For the most part this has been great, I feel like I am more free.  Living with less just leaves more room for living.  However, I was not prepared for the painful part of downsizing: letting go.

This brings us to the first part of my story: Who I used to be?

This isn't even all of it. 

This is a pretty good picture of who I used to be.  I played 3 years of post-secondary basketball, I spent between 30-50 hours in the gym a week.  I ran wind sprints with a 30 pound weighted vest, I lifted weights. I read, watched, talked, wrote and dreamed about basketball.  A big part of that dream came true in the summer of 2013 when I moved up from the college level to play university ball.

I don't play anymore, I stepped away from the game in July.  At first it didn't feel real, then all at once it felt like I had decided to rip my left arm off.

I felt like an entirely different person, and I spent a great deal of my time that summer waiting for the old me to come back.  But the truth is, that person didn't come back and isn't going to.  I have rebuilt myself and while I find that I am very different on the other side of my experience, I don't feel like this version of me is any better or worse, just new.

At least that's how I felt before I started downsizing.  I felt my old shadow looking over my shoulder as I began sorting my clothes and books.  Part of me felt really good, some of my gear has only been worn a couple times so they'd make great hand-me-downs/donations and I was finally freeing myself from the clutter I had been content to cart from place to place (I'm currently on my third move in 3 years with the possibility of a fourth in the near future).

A very small and petty part of me wanted to douse it all in gasoline and watch it burn.  That way no one could ever get hurt the way I was hurt.  No one would ever dream big dreams just to watch them wither away.  But basketball is a game and it doesn't have the power to do any of those things.  Basketball didn't hurt me, people hurt me.  Basketball didn't kill my dreams, my dreams changed.  And all those books and jerseys and shoes, those material items just helped me be the best I could be while I still wanted to be that person.


A very big part of me felt a deep sense of loss, not because the things I was getting rid of meant anything to me but because I thought they always would.  Old me wanted to feel that connection to the game but, the old me is just a shadow that doesn't really exist anymore.  Getting rid of this stuff is accepting the fact that the old me really is in the past.

But I'm happy, happier than I've been in over a year.  I'm just as proud of who I am now.  I have just as much passion for the things I love, I just love different things.  I haven't lost all that I was.

I lost a lot of this person

But I kept the best parts