This past weekend was my first powerlifting meet since losing my daughter Hope in June. The entire week leading up to it I was a mess, mentally, emotionally and physically. I wanted to abandon the idea of doing the meet because it was just too much…….
- ‘I shouldn’t be doing this meet, I should have a 3 week old’
- ‘I’m not as strong as I should be’
- ‘I’m not in the weight class I should be in’
And when it all came down to it, it was a long list of bullshit excuses that I was trying to use to hide from reality. The reality that life has HAD to move on. The reality that a shitty fucking thing happened to me. The reality that no matter what I did the world was moving on.
So I called my mom and explained that I needed her support incase I lost my balance and crumbled into a 1,000 pieces. She of course agreed to come and support me.
I was good until my third lift……. it would be a PR lift…… and I felt so overwhelmed with guilt……guilt? really? But i squatted the 250lbs bar, PR, and immediately began crying. I was so excited and yet couldnt shake a sense of guilt for being so happy, for having moved on, for having joy.
I know it sounds weird, but if you’ve lost a child you get it. After that i was able to relax and ENJOY the rest of the day. It was freeing to make myself face reality. It’s not easy to do, and I’m still sad just about everyday, but I am not letting that define me or determine who I’ll be.
It’s so hard to move forward, but I will keep making myself do it.