I have a love/hate relationship with my kids’ sports. I love them for the same reason I hate them. Their sports teach them who they are in the face of adversity.
They can work hard, do their best and still not accomplish their goals. Then what? Do they fall apart? Do they move on from the sport? Do they pretend to not care?
I was faced with this fun reality this weekend at a horse show. My daughter was excited to have been invited to a “finals” show. She has been coping with a lot of change this summer and her riding has been her stabilizing force. Unfortunately, when life feels unstable, it can sometimes de-stabilize even your constant.
After an hour and forty-five-minute drive we showed up at a fancier barn and show set-up than we have encountered so far. It was oddly cool and started to rain steadily. As we checked-in, the administrator commented that the horses were a “little crazy” due to the weather change. I knew as soon as she said it that these words would take root in my daughter’s mind and feed her nerves.
We waited, all shivering in the rain, for three hours before she rode. She did a great job in her first “class.” Unfortunately, that was overshadowed by the next two. In her second class. Her horse refused a jump three times which resulted in disqualification. In the third class, she got the horse over the jump with one refusal. Just as she cleared several jumps and it seemed like thinks were taking a turn for the better, she fell off on a jump.
I can honestly say my heart stopped for a few seconds when I saw her land on the jump. It restarted when she got up. It stopped again when she left the ring.
She put a smile on her face and walked her horse out. Yet, as I made eye contact with her, I saw the look and the almost imperceptible shake of her head. It signaled, “don’t come too close, or I will break into sobs in front of all these people.” My heart re-started but boy did it hurt for her.
It is times like that I would do anything to “fix” it despite knowing that’s the worst thing I could do. It is moments like those that will help her dig deep and realize her own strength. If I intervene, I steal that from her.
I have had many of these moments with my son’s swimming. There have been far too many times when he worked his hardest and fell short of a goal time by a mere tenth of a second. As a new swim parent, I remember seeing the defeated look on my son’s face and thinking “can’t the officials just fudge it for a tenth of a second?!” As a seasoned swim mom, I know better, but that look still kills me.
It is the looks that make me hate sports. We teach our kids that if they work their hardest, they can do anything. The reality is that you can work your hardest and walk away disappointed. My heart wants to protect them from that.
My head, however, loves sports for this reason. DBT has taught me that we can improve moments of distress by finding meaning in them. The meaning for my kids in sport disappointments is the inner strength, “never give up” attitude and work ethic that will serve them far beyond their sports days.
I will never respond to that look of disappointment with “whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger,” but I do believe it.
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