When I realize I’m not strong enough.
When I feel like I’ve failed when I thought I just might be good enough. Yeah, I was on the edge, but I thought I tried hard enough…
I tried my best.
But my best wasn’t strong enough.
I immediately think of all the things I’m doing wrong, all the things I could be doing that I’m not, comparing myself to all the other people–because, obviously, they were strong enough.
And I wasn’t.
They’ve got something I don’t–and I’m gonna run myself into the ground until I get it.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be strong enough.
Sometimes I don’t think they can know that the littlest word or phrase or touch or look can light up my day or rain on it.
I don’t think anyone understands how badly I want this.
I feel like I can almost guarantee that I want it at least just as badly as the most passionate person there–at least as much as the most determined, yearning, wanting to be included, to be strong, to win.
And yet–I still wasn’t strong enough.
I didn’t realize how bad I wanted this–didn’t realize until I didn’t get it. It’s always this way for me–there’s nothing I can do to change that. I always say I care, but I can handle the disappointment. That I’ll be fine either way. But no–and deep down I know I’m telling a lie to myself.
But at the end of the day, I know… that it’s not about being strong enough.
It’s about running ’til you can’t breathe, pushing ’til you can’t stand, fighting until you win or lose. It’s about straining every last muscle and pulling every last breath and shouting, rooting each other on until you lose your voice.
It’s about learning. And playing. And loving those around you. It’s about doing something fun and crazy and taking a deep breath through your nose and feeling sweaty and powerful and new. It’s about embracing the game and being there for your team. No matter what. Winning is great–but that’s not what it’s about. That’s just the icing on the cake, if you’re lucky. But that’s not what it’s about. Yeah, I know it sounds cliche–
But it’s not about being strong enough.
It’s about being you.
And when I think of it this way, think of it as the grass prickles my neck and two lone stars shine through the yellow light of the street lamp–
Remember the way the whole team is so close, like a brotherhood. Remember how I want that, yearn for that, long to be part of that, accepted. How they didn’t act like I was new. How they didn’t disdain me for my limitations but accepted me with them. How I got passed to and messed with from day one. How I respect my captain, as a coach and as a team player and as a person. How I appreciate every high five, every look of respect, every team huddle, every “We are UR.” How I feel wanted whenever someone takes the time to help me out. How I felt on top of the world when he told me the strengths he sees in me–basically, that I belong on that team. That they all want me on their team. How I’m part of another family again.
And they’ll never know how much that means to me.
They see my commitment. They see how much I push myself for the last everything I have in me. They see how I smile when I play and how my face goes grim and intense when I’m determined, when I really get into it. Hey, I even got a nickname today, because I don’t go down easy. They hear me when I cheer them on, accepting them as I hope, I think, I know they’re accepting me. I love even the pep talks, even when others just smile, I feel something. I love this essence, this tangible thing, that we have with each other, on and off the field. We are family.
I think it’s called a team.
So whenever I get frustrated with myself, think myself weak. Inadequate. Insufficient. Not good enough. Not strong enough…
I will remember–they think me strong enough. More than that, they think my heart big enough.
And that’s enough for me.