Day 101 Risk: Not Quit Playing

This morning was rough. Real rough. Last night was a good friend’s 30th birthday party and let’s just say good times were had at a great dive bar. I went to bed at 245am and woke up around 630am, unable to get back to sleep.

It was a rough morning.

We had a double header for softball today beginning at 10am and let’s just say that I wasn’t really in a place that made for good playing. I felt like crap. And then, as I was walking out to the field, I noticed my arm was blue. It was a solid band of blue that went halfway up my forearm from my hand. I went to take my position and raked my brain to try to figure out what it could be.

I was missing things and one of my fellow teammates was making comments about it. I was not in a logical state of mind and thought my circulation was being cut off and when the comments started flowing, I started to tear up. My husband was luckily playing right near me, saw how upset I was getting and called for another player to take my place.

I ran off the field and was able to wipe it off, but not before exhausted, anxious tears started flowing down my cheeks. I was so embarrassed. The blue wiped off but I was still so shaken up from the fear that something serious could be going on. I still haven’t figured out what it was.

I went back out in the next inning and tried to keep playing. The teammate mentioned above continued trying to coach me throughout both games and while I believe he thought he was being helpful, it was more than I could take. My frustration level just kept rising.

Between the hungover exhaustion, the blue arm, and the teammate, I really just wanted to quit. I was itching to get some greasy food in my belly and crawl back into my pajamas. But that would have been easy.

By sticking in the game I risked either getting undeservedly pissy and bitter with my teammates or breaking down into tears at any moment. But for some reason I kept playing. I tried my best and attempted to get back some of my normal good cheer, although I don’t know how well I exceeded in either. But I’m proud of myself for staying in the game. The 28 year old version of myself probably would have left.


Risky Thoughts

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