Get raw, get real

These are unedited excerpts from my journal.

Some names have been altered to respect the privacy of the individuals mentioned.

17th December, 2018

I’ve been feeling really unsettled recently and I’m not sure why. I keep asking myself questions that I’m not sure I have an answer to and I don’t feel I’ve allowed myself to answer. Like with soccer, why do I care so much about making it? I remember answering that question months ago, but is that the real reason? Or do I just want a taste of “fame”? Is it purely an egoic adventure? Is it so I can say that I’ve “made” it? Why was I so stuck on making it work in Adelaide?

I think my experiences with soccer are comparable to those I had with Rachel – I thought I was helping her by talking through her problems and sitting with her in the darkness, but what if I wasn’t? What if none of that ever helped? We think we’re doing a “noble” thing, by listening, by being there, but at the end of the day, if it wasn’t us, it would have been someone else. I had similar thinking with United – I thought that what I had to offer off the field was unique and irreplaceable – I thought I was irreplaceable. But I was wrong. Again. Our ego wants us to think no one will be able to find another “us” – which is true, to an extent. But the real truth is; what you offer is replaceable.

I’ve never felt like my absence, in relationships or teams, has ever been noticed or missed. Is that because what I offer is easily replaced, or because of humans’ abilities to adapt to changes? Why does this concern me so much? Is it because I feel the absence of others so profoundly and I want the same for myself? Is this a question of being valued? In the past, I’ve felt that I’ve only been valued for what I’ve done, not for who I am. In soccer, it has always been about what I can offer on the field. In relationships, it’s been about what I can do for my partner and how I can make them feel – I’m not sure I’ve felt that anyone’s truly valued me or my mind. Perhaps that’s what I’m waiting for – someone to meet me and fall in love with my mind. And work with that. I know I have a lot to offer, I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to market my thoughts and my heart in a way that’s digestible to others.

When Nicole Gibson said to me, “Hello beautiful soul” – I felt seen. Seen in a way I hadn’t before. And I felt that during our conversation too – she asked me if I saw myself and I knew that she knew I didn’t. At least not completely. It’s hard then to truly see others when we don’t truly see ourselves. And I know that to be true with one of my friends. I’m struggling because I don’t understand. But I so desperately want to. All the pain I’ve known has stemmed from feelings of being misunderstood and loneliness, but I’m not sure that’s her pain. We’re so similar, but at the same time, so different. I keep recalling what Nicole said about lovers holding the key to our growth and transformation; the key to seeing ourselves. And I feel that with this friend. She’s challenging me, every day, in ways I didn’t know I needed to be challenged. Her capability of loving someone, and loving them without conditions, is more advanced than I’ve ever experienced. She doesn’t take anything personally – how? Is it because she’s so secure within herself that she knows it’s not about her? Or is she just so present, so focused on selfless love that she sees the real them and their pain? No matter what I give her, she still responds in the same way: with loving compassion. And with space. She often knows what I need even when I don’t have the words or courage to ask for it. Her love for me is challenging me to be better, to love better. As for her situation, her desire to no longer live is confronting. And challenging. I’m forced to live in a way that every day with her, every moment, could be our last. Some have told me, “That’s not a very good way to live,” but why? Does it not create a sense of urgency? A sense of truly embracing the present because that’s all that’s guaranteed? A sense of perspective of what really matters? Loving her through this is perhaps comparable to loving someone with a terminal illness, except for one crucial difference: time. I don’t know how much time I have with her. And I know there won’t be any warning. So I really do have to love her like tomorrow isn’t guaranteed because there are times when I’m reminded that I’m not. And these reminders make me sad, because I know I would miss her. Her presence, and subsequent absence, is one that doesn’t go unnoticed. Her energy is contagious. And I suspect it is such because of the pain she feels; the darkness she experiences and the depth of her wounds. She’s one of those people I’ve always admired; the ones who can always put their feelings aside and endeavour to be a positive influence, even when their world is shattering around them. How do people do that? – I don’t know how to mask any of that shit, I never have. And I’m questioning, which way of living is more beneficial?

I don’t know what to do. With soccer or with life. Is soccer on my path? Or am I working against what the universe wants from me? Even as I write that sentence, my gut doesn’t believe it – I know I’m not done with soccer. I just feel like a wounded animal. I’ve suffered so many cuts, so many heartbreaks, I just don’t know if I have it within me to keep fighting. I feel like I need nurturing. I need someone to believe in my abilities because my experiences and disappointments have caused me to internalise that I’m not good enough. I go through these phases of intense focus and determination; like, fuck yes. I will try again. I know what I need and I’ll ask specific people to help me get there. And then other days I think, what’s the fucking point? Do I really want to go through all of that again? Do I need to change my focus? Do I need to not work hard? Not prioritise soccer? Eat shit? Party? What needs to change for me to “make? it? I need to have “fun” but do I know how? Can I have fun and still work hard? Can I work hard just for me or is there a definite end goal in mind?

As for life, what do I want? And why? What is my why? I want to write a book, and I feel I can, I just need to figure out why I want to write it. What’s my purpose? To give something people can relate to? To encourage others to feel safe to express the parts of themselves that people have previously rejected? Suicide has been a recurring theme in my life, why? This friend is challenging my views and beliefs because I always thought connection is the answer. But what if it’s not? What if there isn’t an answer for some problems? Can I accept that? Or does that feel like a failure? How else can I view this problem? How can I learn about her pain? How can I better see her? By seeing myself more clearly? What does that even mean? Being honest? Letting go of wanting to be perceived as a “good” or “ideal” person? Perhaps that’s why I’ve never succeeded in soccer. I did the “right” things for the “wrong” reasons – because of how I wanted to be perceived. Has my whole life then, been one big martyr? Have I done the “right” thing with a “chip” in my energy that allows me to play the victim if it doesn’t work out? Why do I put in extra hours? What motivates me? Figure that out and be guided by your motivating force, not by what is “right”.

27th December, 2018

I’m getting bad again. My head feels like it’s in a constant fog. I feel like I’m constantly being tormented by demons in my head – the same demons that made me quit tennis all those years ago. I feel like I’m going through an identity crisis – I’m questioning everything I’ve ever done and everything I think I am. Why didn’t I drink or party when I was younger? To give me the best chance at soccer? But who told me partying was bad for you? Is it even bad for you? Why have I always cared about doing the “right” thing? What’s the fucking point of doing what’s right if it’s not actually what you want? We’re literally only here for one life, so why the fuck wouldn’t you do what you wanted? Does it really matter if you hurt others in the process? Are you even hurting them or is it their perception / expectations that are hurting them? Why have I always cared about minimising others’ pain but am happy to hurt myself?

I realise that I actually know nothing. I thought I’d overcome this darkness but I haven’t. And I realise that I’m probably alone in this because I don’t think anyone feels what I feel or is struggling with these thoughts. I feel like I’ve wasted these 25 years of my life. Now all I want to do is get fucked up. Do the things I never have because it wasn’t deemed to be “right” or adding value. Fuck adding value. I want to numb the pain and silence my thoughts.

I read something in my childhood journal on Christmas and it triggered me – it was feedback from coaches from over 10 years ago. It triggered me because those coaches identified my weaknesses back then and I’ve done fuck all about them. I never worked at it. Sure, I worked hard off the field. But that’s been my BIGGEST mistake. Because I needed a ball at my feet not dumbbells in my hand. Who the fuck even said you need strength and conditioning? Do you? Because last time I checked, I never got better at soccer when I didn’t have a ball at my feet. And this is what I regret. I regret investing in shit I thought mattered, but clearly doesn’t. So here I am, 10 years later, and what have I accomplished? Nothing. Literally nothing. Tennis yesterday drilled that home for me – I never had the mental strength to succeed. I have a competitive nature, so I can’t just have “fun” but I choke. I crumble under the slightest pressure because I get too in my head. I wasn’t good enough then and I realise, nothing much has changed.

I just want to disappear for a while. I need to sort my head and heart out so they’re not in a constant state of unrelenting torment.

I need to figure out my values and which one is the most important. And then I need to ask why it is. I used to think I knew – my values were; accountability, transparency, vulnerability, acceptance, and authenticity (lol). But why? Why those values? Am I selling myself short by having these? Sacrificing happiness for perceived goodness? Who gives a shit about that anyway? I feel trapped and confined by always considering what’s “right” or what will hurt others less, but that means I’m not free. I’m a prisoner to my own values. To society’s values. And if this really is the only life I have to live, fuck playing by the rules. 25 years of that has brought nothing but misery and failure. How much of “who I am” or who I think I am is actually who I am and how much is it who I want to be perceived as? How many times have I done what I wanted compared to doing what others would say was the right thing to do? How much have I lost by constantly choosing the latter? My happiness? My sanity? My life?

The reason I share these journal entries is because I think it’s so important to present oneself in a raw and unfiltered manner. The erratic writing and constant questioning present in the second entry clearly reflects my state of mind at the time. I felt like I was going through an existential crisis. I felt like I was questioning everything I’ve been raised to believe. And I still am. Why do we do the “right” thing? And what does that even mean?

From birth, we’re conditioned into thinking that right and wrong exist. And many of the conventions used to determine what is right and wrong are based on the principles found in the Bible. Wronging, in childhood, was synonymous with sinning. And if you sinned, you were destined to go to hell. Or at least, that’s how we were raised to think. So we continually did what was right, not necessarily because we wanted to, but because we were afraid of what would happen if we didn’t. And also because we wanted to portray ourselves as being “good” people, especially because “God was always watching”. But what does being “good” even mean?

I remember discussing my beliefs with one of my exes in the past and she almost laughed and said, “You have a lot to learn in your 20s. These might be your beliefs now, but they will change.” I remember getting quite defensive when she said that because I really liked who I was and what I believed in. But now I realise, maybe she was right.

So what’s spurred this recent onslaught of questions? Well naturally, it’s because of something I’ve been struggling with - I’ve found myself feeling an attraction towards someone who isn’t my partner. And I’ve struggled with this because it feels wrong. When you’re with someone, you shouldn’t be looking at anyone else. If you’re truly happy in your relationship, you wouldn’t feel anything towards anyone else. Or at least this is what I thought and believed. And I realise how flawed this thinking really is.

As my acupuncturist last week said; attraction is a beautiful thing and should never feel wrong. It only feels wrong because we’ve been taught to fear what isn’t always conventional; we’ve been taught that monogamy is the only “right” way to do relationships. Anyone that strays from that, or considers anyone else whilst in a relationship, is a “bad” person. But how can feelings ever be considered wrong, or bad? I used to think that I could never understand people who “cheated” – I understood how people could develop feelings for others, but to put themselves in a situation to allow that to happen? I considered that to be “wrong”. But why? Because at the end of the day, as I wrote in my journal, we only have one life. And if you’re on your death bed at 80, are you going to wish you did more “right” things? Or are you going to wish you actually did what you wanted?

Having said that, being attracted to someone doesn’t mean that anything is going to come of it. Part of learning who you are is allowing yourself the freedom to express yourself; to feel what you feel without judgement. When we suppress what we feel and deny ourselves of what we want, we live inauthentically. We end up sacrificing our happiness to preserve an image of ourselves. An image that doesn’t exist. An image that can never be obtained. Humans are complex creatures, but unfortunately society doesn’t allow for our true beauty, our true authentic selves to be expressed without some form of repercussion, some kind of negative consequence, some kind of judgement.

Aside from the judgement that I have of myself and my feelings, I’ve struggled with being honest about them with my partner. I’ve been in a relationship where I felt that my partner had a connection with someone, and I confronted her about it, but she denied it. And I believed her with my head, even though my heart knew there was something there. Once we broke up, she ended up marrying that girl I had suspicions about. And I’ve asked myself, what if she was honest with me? What if she admitted that she had feelings for that girl? How would I have reacted? Would that have been better for me, to know the truth, rather than thinking I was fucking crazy and reading into things? Or would I just have reacted and it made things worse? Admittedly, I think it would have done the latter given the headspace I was in. So what made me opt to do the opposite? Why did I tell my partner about this attraction?

Because of honesty. I don’t know how not to be honest. I don’t know how to lie. And almost everyone I’ve met tells me, “You’re too honest.” Or that, “There are some things you just don’t need to say.” But why? If that’s who I am, if I am an honest person that likes to talk, why would I suppress that? Is there such a thing as being too honest? I remember writing in a former post that you should fuck anyone off who makes you feel “too much” of anything – that “too much” is what makes you, you. And if people can’t handle that, do you really want them in your life?

As difficult as these conversations have been with my partner, I know that it’s the only way our relationship can move forward. Loving someone means giving them the freedom to be themselves and to do what they want, even if you aren’t comfortable with it. It’s in that discomfort though, that if discussed in a safe and open environment, that two individuals can grow together. And that’s what I posed to my partner – I want to know when things upset her. Because admitting that, admitting what makes us feel insecure, that’s what being vulnerable is. That’s where connection happens. And that’s when a true connection can be formed. You can’t connect with what isn’t true. And I suppose that’s why I try to live as honestly as I can. And that’s why I continue to write about things that don’t present myself in the “best” way. Will I be judged? Maybe. But if you’re judging me, who’s the one with the problem? Me or you?

So through these questions and by being curious about why I do the things I do, I’m learning to consciously override what I’ve been conditioned to believe and I’m following more of what my heart wants. And I’m doing that by letting go of my attachment to how I want to be perceived and to the fear of being judged. I’m learning what my values are and what’s important to me. I understand that every action has a reaction, but I find myself not attaching myself to anything anymore. What is meant to be in your life, will be. Because at any given moment, you actually possess everything you need; to live, to grow, and to prosper. Every moment you have a choice, to do what’s ‘right’, or to do what you want. So do you choose to live in fear, or do you choose to be free?

Connection is the ultimate antidepressant

Sport is a drug. And I was addicted to it. When I was cut from the United squad a few weeks ago, I went through some extreme withdrawals. I went from training 8-9 times a week in a competitive, social, professional environment, to working out voluntarily by myself only three times a week. And I was fucking struggling. Not only was I not getting endorphins from exercise, but I also wasn’t getting the dopamine from competition, the oxytocin from working with my teammates, and the serotonin from feeling valued. So how did I cope?

At the start, I didn’t really. I was having thoughts of self-harm that I hadn’t had in three and a half years. I had thoughts of wanting to get fucked up, to do things I had never done before. I just wanted to run away from my feelings, to mask the pain and the disappointment that I was feeling and I was willing to do whatever that took. But I couldn’t. Because the girl I’m seeing is involved with United. So all of those emotions I didn’t want to feel, I had to feel. And I was forced to focus on something other than myself: her. And as challenging as that has been at times, I can honestly say it’s helped.

Thinking about ourselves is one of the fundamental causes of depression. Believing that “nobody can help you but you” is a myth: we all need people. We’re social creatures by nature, so when we isolate ourselves to focus on ourselves we’re actually denying our basic human instincts to connect which consequently makes us feel terrible (Johann Hari, Lost Connections).

When I was struggling a few weeks ago, I recall telling people exactly that. I told them I was struggling and having thoughts I haven’t had in three and a half years. And invariably the responses I received actually made me feel worse – numerous people responded with, “Maybe you need to see a therapist.” I believe therapists only exist because we do such a shitty job of being there for one another. When someone comes to you, telling you that they’re struggling, and you suggest they see someone else, what that indirectly communicates is, “I don’t want to deal with what you’re going through.” And maybe that’s because they’ve got their own shit going on. But quite often what anyone ever needs is not a therapist. They just need someone to be there. To listen. To not react. To not judge. And to not try to fix anything. Because often there isn’t anything that needs fixing; people just need to feel what they’re feeling and be given an environment in which they can do just that.

There’s a brilliant example in Johann Hari’s book Lost Connections which looks at these individuals who are extremely obese. They partake in an experiment designed to help them obtain a “healthy” weight. What they found though, was that there was often a backlash – the participants would lose the weight and then put it straight back on. And it wasn’t from a lack of knowledge – people know that it’s “healthier” to not be overweight, and they quite often know what and how they should be eating. But there’s a fundamental question that many dieticians and doctors neglect to ask: why. This study did just that – they asked the participants when they started over-eating and if there was anything significant that happened during that time in their life. And the answers? Over 50% of those participants had been sexually abused when they were kids. Eating then, served as a protective mechanism; it made them feel invisible. How often though, do you look at someone overweight and think, or perhaps even suggest, why don’t they just reduce their portion sizes? Or eat a more balanced diet? As though it’s that simple. And as though they don’t already know that’s what they should be doing. What if, instead of trying to “fix” their problem, we asked them why they were having a problem? What if, instead of offering a solution, we offered them a connection?

I didn’t need fixing. I needed connection. Compassion. Understanding. Safety. And time. I needed to be allowed to feel what I was feeling. To be angry. Sad. Disappointed. I needed to grieve – to grieve the failure of not achieving my dream. To grieve the time and energy I had invested into it. Time offers us the greatest gift: perspective. And that’s what I needed. Because I know that when we’re in pain, it’s because of our perception of the situation. But often we can’t alter our perception until we’ve felt all there is to feel from it. And avoidance robs us of this experience.

Numerous people have told me over the years, given my injuries and disappointments in not making teams, that perhaps soccer isn’t on my path. And as much as I haven’t wanted to, I’ve listened to them. Because as much as we get told to not give a shit about what other people think, it’s almost impossible when you care about them. And hearing that something you’ve invested your entire life into, that has been the central part of your identity for the majority of your life, isn’t for you, is pretty disheartening. And I’m not sure people understand the repercussions of this suggestion. So instead of telling someone to essentially “give up” on their dreams, why not just listen? Listen and let them feel what they feel; don’t try to fix. Don’t try to help. Don’t take their anger personally. Just be there. Because that’s honestly the most valuable gift you can give them.

What I’ve found over the years is that I’ve never really struggled in others’ presence. These thoughts of self-harm, I didn’t have them when I was working. Or when I was with the girl I’m seeing. Or when I was playing soccer. They only surfaced when I was alone. When I was consumed by thinking about myself. And that’s because I believe connection is an antidepressant. I’ve been so fortunate to find a workplace in which I immediately felt safe and supported; I’m surrounded by beautiful individuals and I get to work in an environment, hospitality, in which the fundamental premise is to give and serve which forces me to focus on others. Much like I’m having to do with the girl I’m seeing – I want to support her and I can’t do that if I’m consumed by my own negativity. Focusing on and being around others, I believe, is a remedy worth prescribing. Although therapists have their purpose, it’s a one-way relationship that misses a fundamental component of being human: connection.

So when someone is struggling, try not to fix them. Try to really hear what they’re saying. Support them. Validate them. Be there for them. Create an environment in which they feel comfortable enough to feel their feelings, even if they aren’t “constructive”. When people are struggling, they actually don’t need much. But they do need people. And your willingness to connect through a state of non-reaction and non-judgment, might just be what saves them.

The ugly side of sports

Our society operates on the premise that if you work hard enough, you can achieve anything you want. But there’s a fundamental flaw in this belief: not everything is within your control. And choosing to believe the former can royally fuck you up. Because when you don’t achieve whatever it is you’ve invested your whole life into achieving, you’re likely to internalise and conclude that maybe you’re just not good enough. But that might not necessarily be reality. Because there’s a reality that exists beyond your control, beyond your work ethic, and beyond your attitude. And it’s called timing. And it’s called opportunity. And it operates on the fact that life just fucking sucks sometimes.

I moved back to Australia a year ago to pursue my dream of playing soccer at a professional level. For the past ten years, I’ve been trying to break into the Adelaide United W-league squad, but timing has never been on my side. When I was 16, I missed out on playing for Australia in the World Cup Qualifiers for the Young Matildas because I got glandular fever (mono) a month before we travelled. I wasn’t too disappointed though, because I thought, “Well, at least this happened in Year 11 and not in my final year of school.” I was young. I had plenty of years of playing ahead of me. So I took this obstacle in stride, saw the silver lining, and kept moving. I then wasn’t chosen for Adelaide United because I didn’t play for Australia, yet the two teammates who were my age and went away, did. No big deal though, there’s always next year.

Next year came around and the same coach overlooked me because he wanted six feet tall, quick defenders. I was neither. What he didn’t realise though was what I lacked in speed, I made up for in anticipation. But that was irrelevant – he wanted specific central defenders and I didn’t fit that mould. Fuck this, I thought, I’ll move to America. And so I did. And the year I moved, the coach promoted all of these younger players, many of whom I had previously played with. No worries, I thought, I’m on my own path and wasn’t going to wait around for something that could have been; I’m going to make something happen for myself.

I get to America and I’m a starting freshman. I’m playing well and playing every minute of every game. I receive an award for “defensive player of the week”, score my first goal, and then I tear my acl less than a week later. I was pretty devastated, but I was optimistic. This is good, I thought, this will make me appreciate running, playing, and working hard even more than I did. My sophomore year, I worked my fucking ass off to make up for what I lost in the ten and a half months I was out, only to sit on the bench for half the season because my coach didn’t like the fact I told him I wasn’t ready to play when he wanted me to. My assistant coach and volunteer coach, who I both worked with for individual sessions each week, were in his office after every game advocating for me to be played. But the head coach wouldn’t play me. And then I got a stress fracture in my foot from overtraining, which was misdiagnosed and ended up completely separating causing me to be out for another five months. There would be no United when I went home that Christmas, either.

My junior year comes and goes and I have a really good season individually, despite the year being an absolute shit show of drama (teammates almost dying in a drunken car accident, other teammates getting arrested, our coach getting suspended, my coach trying to get rid of me, the athletic department forbidding me from communicating and working with my mentor etc). Everything was shaping up for a really solid senior year – I have my first girlfriend in three years, my coach finally offers me a captaincy role, and I get selected in a few all-conference pre-season teams. And then I tear my second acl. I was shattered. Livid. Heartbroken. I’ll never play soccer again, I believed. How could I? Clearly this, playing soccer, isn’t meant for me, so maybe I’ll get into coaching. And so I did. But coaching didn’t fulfil me. How could I invest everything into coaching when I wasn’t done playing myself? I was 21 when I decided to never play soccer again; I had so many more playing years ahead of me. So at 23 I made the decision that I would try again. I was driven by my fear of regret; of regretting giving up the sport too early and never having really “made it”. And I was driven by my desire to motivate. How could I ever tell a kid that I coached to come back from two acls if I never did so myself? And so I moved everything back to Australia to try and play for Adelaide United.

Trials began and there were about 30 of us competing for what we thought were 18 contracts. Until we realised there wasn’t. After reading about players being signed in the paper, I learnt that before trials began, 15 out of the 18 contracted positions had been given before trials even started. Yet here we were, 30 of us, competing for three positons. And the positions were for wide players and forwards. Not defenders. So for two months, we all went through physical fucking hell with fitness tests, conditioning, and training, and for what? To be cut the week before the season started. To be used for numbers until the contracted, paid players came in.

But I checked myself. As I alluded in one of my posts last year, “Using a smile to see,” I changed my perspective and saw this as an opportunity to continue training in a professional environment that was going to get me better. Next year, I thought, would be my year. I’d have a year of playing under my belt, I’ll be fit, conditioned, and performing and the coach will have no other decision but to sign me because I’ll be that good.

So everything this year – from the club I chose to play for, to not taking holidays, to working out on average 8-9 times a week was to prepare myself mentally, physically, and emotionally for this one goal of playing for United. I would do my own running after running sessions to train under fatigue to improve my fitness levels, I would stay after weights to do my own prehab exercises to ensure my knees were as strong as they could be, and I would do my own ballwork to make sure I was getting extra touches on the ball. And I did all of this to give me the best chance I could of playing at the level I wanted to play at.

But I didn’t have the season I wanted. I went to a club that was already stacked and that essentially didn’t have a position for me. So I was forced to play a position I knew wasn’t mine, but I was still happy. Because at least I was playing. Until I wasn’t. But I understood when I wasn’t playing – it wasn’t personal. My coach wanted to put the best eleven on the field and I just didn’t fit into that. That’s fine. As long as I make it with United, it’ll all be okay. It will all be worth it. Until it wasn’t.

I’ve always struggled with my confidence with regards to soccer – I’ve never thought I was an exceptional player. And maybe that’s partly because I’ve been overlooked for so many years. But this year, these trials, I know I played fucking well. And others knew it too. I had players frequently asking me if the coach had spoken to me because I was standing out in games and trainings, to which I said, nope, haven’t heard anything. And I didn’t hear anything. Until I was cut.

And so here I am, being faced with some harsh, but necessary lessons. And what I’m learning is that hard work doesn’t mean what we think it means in this world. Neither does having a good attitude. Because you can work your ass off, you can have a really positive, non-reactive, open, and growth-minded mentality, but at the end of the day, none of that means anything. Because if a coach or a boss doesn’t like you, there’s absolutely nothing, nothing, you can do to change that. And that, my friends, is life.

Sure, you can tell me that struggle makes you stronger, or what we go through, we grow through. But at the end of the day, what does that even matter? The reality is, I didn’t get what I wanted. And there’s absolutely nothing I could have done differently to have changed the outcome. Because at the end of the day, the coach has his idea of what he wants, and I never fit into that. I look back at the year and realise I could have learnt that it was never going to be so much sooner than I did – his lack of communication with me throughout the year and throughout trials was a clear indication of his lack of interest in me as a player. And you know what? That fucking hurts. It fucking hurts knowing that no matter what I did, how hard I worked, how much I invested into making this dream a reality, it was just never going to be.

So here I am, dealing with feelings of heartbreak, again. Of disappointment. Of frustration. Of bitterness. And of jealousy. I hear about players getting signed and I want to be happy for them because they’re incredible people, but I can’t. All I feel is this heaviness in my heart; this longingness and wish that that was me. This desire just to be given a fucking opportunity. To have a coach see value in me, as a player and person. But I’ve never had that. And maybe I never will. Is there something wrong with me? Do I have an energy about me that repulses coaches? What more can I do as a player or person to be someone a coach can’t overlook?

I know jealousy is toxic. And I know it’s not healthy. But I genuinely can’t help what I feel. I’m hurt. I’m upset. And all of that pain is seeping into my conversations and tainting my perception. I know that when we’re in pain, it’s because of how we’re perceiving something. But how else am I supposed to view this? I see players being given opportunities when they don’t even care about playing at this level, when they’ve been injured for the majority of the past year, when they haven’t worked hard, when they only care about the money, and it makes me fucking mad. But they have something I don’t and never have had – they have a name. And they’ve been given an opportunity.

People around me, family mainly, keep telling me that maybe this isn’t on my path. Maybe I should just give soccer up. But why would I give up something I love? Why would I give up the only thing that has ever made me feel fulfilled? Don’t you think that it’s fucked up, that there are players who give up something they love because they’ve never been valued? Because it hurts too much to go through the continual disappointment, the continual politics, the continual bullshit? Imagine if we taught kids these harsh realities rather than convincing them that having a good mentality and working hard will actually get you somewhere because from my experiences? It doesn’t. You need things that you can’t control and that is often the missing ingredient in so many “success” stories. But it’s not something that’s ever talked about. Because you can’t glorify it. And it doesn’t feel good. We don’t want to believe that we don’t have control over our future because it’s disheartening. It’s disempowering. But perhaps embracing this reality might actually equip individuals with the skills necessary to process disappointment. To prevent them from internalising “failures” as there being something fundamentally wrong with who they are. Because chances are, there’s nothing wrong with them, but everything wrong with timing.

So where to from here? I honestly don’t know. I have no wisdom to share. All I have is what I feel in this raw, unfiltered state that I’ve written about here. I’m hurting. I’m disappointed. And I’m fucking jealous. I didn’t get what I wanted and it’s making me bitter, resentful, and pessimistic. Is that healthy? No. But it’s real. And I’m sure there are beautiful things that will come of this, but knowing that doesn’t help; it doesn’t take away from the pain I’m currently feeling. The pain I know I need to feel. The pain of wanting something so badly, and not getting it. The pain of giving 100% and it still not being enough. And I know there are lessons I need to learn. But not right now. What I need right now is to be human; to feel and to grieve.