Football, First Love and Fulfillment
How you speak to children from the youngest age sets the stage for how they see themselves, builds their confidence and allows them to grow into how they will fit into the world. Encouragement and praise foster confidence and a desire to continue to challenge and try new things. Disparagement and scorn keep a child small, fearful and unsure of their ability.
Every November during my childhood at Grey Cup time (Canadian Football League) my father would host a watch party for the neighbours. There was an abundance of beer and food that my mother continually prepared, and it was my job to serve it. The women stayed in the kitchen and the men were in the living room. That’s just the way it was. My sister, who loved football, always stayed to watch the game. One year I was asked to stay by one of the older boys that I had been secretly in love with for as long as I could remember. It was like a rite of passage. I had no interest in the game and found it confusing. But that didn’t matter because room was made for me beside him and that was enough. He tried to explain things as they happened, and I just nodded and looked like I understood. I was in a daze.
After the game, the older boys discussed their future education plans and hope for potential careers. Each of the boys present was asked by my father what he hoped to study with praise and encouragement from him after they spoke. When it came to “the” boy he said he thought he’d go into law (he did) and while he had a real chance at making a professional hockey team (he was drafted), he preferred something solid as his base. High praise from my father there indeed.
Sadly, “the” boy made the mistake of asking me what I thought I’d like to do with my life, and my future. While I was thrilled that he seemed genuinely interested I wished he hadn’t asked because I knew what might happen, but feeling it was safe and I could trust him, I said with such enthusiasm, “oh I’m going to be a writer.” He then asked in what way – did I want to write books, or be a journalist? I said I didn’t know for certain, but I just knew I had words that needed to be shared, a voice to be heard, stories to tell and told him of the stories I had already written and kept in a box. He smiled “that” smile at me and said he knew I’d be great. I was elated.
And then the hammer fell as I knew it would and I came crashing back to earth. Laughter, loud and long from my father. And comments that wounded for far too many years. In a room full of people who lived around me and had known me since my youngest years the shame was acute. And worse, the humiliation of it in front of “the” boy. Being told I could never do that and who would want to hear anything I would have to say. Better to think of something else I could do. The words pierced my heart. And a dream died a painful death. That night the box was opened and the words I’d already spilled on pages and pages were ripped up and thrown away.
The tragedy is that for far too many years I believed that I would never be good enough and would never measure up. I wrote in journals, and I found other outlets for all those words, but they were private and never shared with anyone else. Because I believed that they would not be well received or there would be scorn and ridicule. I believed I wasn’t enough.
Of course, years later, as an adult I realized why I was kept small. A parent who cannot live with a child having a gift or wanting to pursue a dream has issues of their own. The need to control and set limits stems from not wanting that child to have a better life than they have. It is competition. The fact that “the” boy seemed to take an interest in me was another factor. I might turn my attention elsewhere and see myself as other people saw me and the goal was to diminish me in the eyes of that young man.
I could have chosen to believe “the” boy, followed my heart and allowed a gift I was given to flourish. But I was too young, and he was temporary and out of my life longer than he was ever in it. My father was the constant and what we learn from our parents is what shapes us first and foremost.
Keeping a gift hidden and not shared is a disservice. I am writing and putting my words into the universe now because it demands it of me. Having no formal education in the field, I write casually, from the heart and my spirit. I write as I speak. It suits me. I told my children when they were young to follow their hearts and dreams. I still tell them to “go for it” when they think they have something to offer or want to experience. I’m famous for seeing gifts in others and telling them to write that book or create that art and to fulfill the purpose of their lives. It took me too many years to learn to parent myself, open the cage I’d been kept in, fly out and fulfill my own dreams and purpose.
Sometimes you must listen with your heart and not your head. Sometimes the right person will come along and say just the words you need to hear that remind you of your worth and your potential. Sometimes things work out the way you hope and sometimes they don’t. But if you only listen to and believe the negative opinions of others, don’t listen to your own heart and never try to fly, how will you ever know what possibility awaits?