I close my eyes and hit the rewind button.
My eyes open up and I see myself laying in a lonely Ascot Vale apartment. I'm trying to decipher the relationship between a masked outward confidence and a deep inner fear. I'm uncertain yet optimistic, weak yet healthy.
I look at my keyboard and begin to write. Writing was (and always has been) my favorite way to describe what I'm feeling. I bite my lip, shake my head, type, erase, regroup, look into space and think about what I WANT to say, type, pause for a second, erase, think about what I SHOULD say, reconsider if the words are correct, type, nod my head, smile, and move onto next line.
The post, which was written exactly one year ago to the day, was my first true post in Australia and initial one after seeing live hitters for the first time. The following three segments were used from this particular entry:
"As I woke up on that Saturday morning, I had a very weird feeling inside of me. I wasn't afraid of facing hitters again but was reluctant to see how I would handle it once I was on the mound again. I've been told time and time again that I am never going to really know what it's going to feel like..."
"This injury has taught me so much about life. Fear is only as strong as you make it. Being afraid is natural, there is no doubt about that. The true definition of yourself is how you go about handling your fears. In my case, July 2nd will always be rooted in my soul but instead of being afraid of going back out and having it happen again, I look at the other 500,000 pitches I threw before that.
"What happened happened and there is no other way to go about bettering myself than to throw myself back into action again. As I stepped on the mound the other day, that unspeakable feeling of being a pitcher was back."
The rewind button is stopped. I'm a bit amazed that an entire year has already passed. Everything feels so much the same as it did then..I'm back in Australia again, I feel warmth all around me..heck, I'm even looking at the exact same computer screen. It all seems so weird but I'm happy with the journey.
I close my eyes again. I begin to think...I begin to go back.
Do these words really portray the feeling deep inside of me? Are they the truth? Did what happen...just happen and was I OK with it? Am I hiding my fear of the unknown? At this time was I really in control of my own quest? Was I happy with where I was..where I was going...and the uncertainty lying ahead?
I begin to see a vision as all of these questions travel through my head. I hear a rumble and my path goes back to where it all began.
I see myself lying on the ground, holding my head, as screams of terror ring out from the crowd at hand. A doctor has his hand pinned against my chest, I begin to hear the ambulance sirens but still don't feel any pain. There are no tears, just an eerier feeling as to the question of what just happened. I begin to be loaded onto the stretcher and see such worried faces upon my teammates. I make my path towards the opened ambulance doors and it begins to go dark. Then just like that, everything goes black.
I open my eyes again and I'm a year removed from that initial post and over 550 days from that dreadful July night. My thoughts are different, ways have changed, and understanding of life morphed into a creature so optimistic and free that one may have to pinch me to take the smile off my face.
(This is Part I of My life as a Movie; Rewinding back to where it all began)
