Three and a Half Months Post Op

My mom keeps telling me to write these things because she thinks it’s therapeutic for the soul. I think I was a dumb ass for thinking I could keep up with these entries while taking 17 credit hours. But I also think that I owe it to myself to try to crank these out for the next 6 months, maybe more, so they’re kind of obligatory by this point.

I tried writing this about two weeks ago when I had just reached three months, but it was too hard. It was during the first conference game that I didn’t travel to, and I was sitting alone in my apartment trying to optimistically write about something that’s quite shitty. So this me trying again during the second conference game that I’m not traveling to, less pessimistic because I finally started running again.

I think I’ve learned more about goalkeeping in the past two months being at school than I have in my 10 years of playing. Watching the game from this literally new perspective has given me so much more insight about this sport than playing it ever has. It’s interesting to me how much you can learn from simply observing what you think you already know so well. Goalkeeping is fucking hard. You have to be athletic but you must also learn how to be graceful in your own strength while making split-second decisions and expected to make the right one every single time, because the one time you don’t is the one goal that will change the whole dynamic of the game. That’s rough.

I had a meeting with my RA, just getting to know her and vice-versa. Once I explained to her my situation this year, she asked me, “As a completely ignorant person, why didn’t you just stop?” Why didn’t I? Why would I decide to put myself through this hell for 9 months, possibly more? Sitting on the sidelines kills me inside. But to see the girls I spend almost 24/7 with succeed right before my eyes, how can I just stop? It’s quite selfish of me to think of simply quitting when I have an actual family of a team behind me. If I don’t owe it to myself to see this through, I certainly owe it to them.

I don’t know how to respond sometimes when people ask how my recovery going. I mean it’s not bad, but am I supposed to say good every time? It’s not always good. It’s kind of sucky and actually really difficult most of the time. My roommate actually saw me cry for the first time ever, so there’s some perspective in how shitty it gets. I told myself I would never take for granted any time I stepped on the field after barely playing my sophomore year of high school, and I don’t think I have, but every moment I get to be on the field now, whether or not I’m playing, is that much more special. Life can be so much worse than it already is, and it makes me feel like a spoiled brat when I feel pity for myself for not being able to kick a soccer ball on a field. I was with one of the freshman girls who tore hers last year and she told me, “It really sucks that you tore your ACL, but I’m really happy you’re here.” I’m not quite sure what I would’ve done if she weren’t with me when the rest of the team traveled. Maybe make new friends? Nah.

I’ve really pushed my limits in the past month in being the best person I can be. The best person I tried to be was the best goalkeeper, student, daughter, and sister, usually in that order, unfortunately. My brother did always get the short end of that stick. But take the most important part out of that equation, and my priorities are sure to change, and since a lot of times school can kiss my ass, a hell of a teammate is what I’ll try to be. Last season, I stood on the sidelines envious and frustrated with my lack of playing time but being told at the same time that I was doing all the right things. I honestly thought I would feel the same this year, and that was the part I dreaded most about this season, but I don’t feel that way at all. In fact, I beam with pride when I see my best friends succeed on the field.

This is hard, and I’m convinced that it will continue to be hard, whether it be 6 months, 9 months, or 1 year post op. This whole experience has haunted me but I think it has humbled me in more ways than I could imagine. I wasn’t as good or as strong as I thought I was, which just means I’ll just have to be even better and stronger come this time around. The whole point of me writing and reflecting about this whole situation was for me to be able to cope with my life without the game, but I’ve realized it hasn’t gone anywhere. Just because I’m not playing doesn’t mean that the game isn’t part of my life. It doesn’t make it any less difficult; it just gives me the slightest bit of hope that this can all be worth something, unbeknownst to me.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” –Romans 8:18