Today I did two things I never really do anymore. One kind of led to the other. I don't know what made me do it, but for starters, I'd put the Patriots game on.
It was an afternoon game and I'd been sitting on the couch, cozied up with a cup of mint tea. I'm not really a "wrap myself in a blanket" type of person, mostly because I'm quick to overheat. For me, a hoodie and a beanie create the same vibe.
I'll just keep it on in the background without the volume.
There was a time when I knew pretty much every player by name. Coaches, too. I wasn't as dialed in with other teams in the league as my friends were, but I was familiar enough. I'd been a football player before I became someone who led people through the mountains. Watching the players move around the field, I surprised myself by clueing into exactly what was going on. It'd happened without trying; I looked at how the offense lined up and figured out which direction the ball would go. The inside linebacker on defense confirmed it by where he stood.
The play hadn't even started and I realized I was smirking.
Until a mix of shoulder surgeries and concussions forced me down a different path, I'd been quite obsessed with football. I played linebacker on defense and running back on offense, and even some offensive line. From my spot on the couch, I thought back on the college recruiting process. Less about the football side of things and more so about who I'd been at the time.
"I'm a football player" I'd tell myself back then.
I used to think about identity a lot. Definitely more than I do now, just like how I used to watch football regularly, but don't anymore.
Memories flooded my thoughts. Scenes from the life I've lived since poured in, bits and pieces of who I've become. The smell of mint crashed against my face as I took a sip of tea. I was surprisingly calm—content, even—despite looking back on a younger me who didn't know how to cope. Figuring out who I was after football took some work. Becoming someone who felt comfortable helping others make sense of the mountains was hard, too. Same with climbing the corporate ladder and getting sober.
I'm actually not sure when it happened, but I went from trying to solidify my identity by being these different things, to feeling most like myself by focusing on being someone who can become something.
Labels change, titles are temporary. Skills atrophy if you don't use them.
Perspective is different, though. That builds. To me, that's the thing that enables everything else. Even when I've transformed into something new and had to leave things behind, I always brought the perspective I gained with me.
I don't know if that's something people think about, but I certainly do. I may not be a linebacker or a running back anymore, but I still know how to play offense and defense when needed. I'm the best player-coach on my own, internal team.
What helps you move on? What do you take with you and what do you let go of? How do you choose?
onward.
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