By Mike Moritz
In a small suburban town in the south-western part of CT, Integrated Sports Training (IST) gets filled with kids, baseball players, from 8 years old to 18. Smacking baseballs around in small but just-barely-big-enough cages surrounded by mesh netting. Big, hulking former baseball players constantly give lessons day in and day out, night in and night out. Instructors from 65 years old to 26, which was the age of my fall baseball coach, Dennis Accomando, an instructor at IST in Norwalk, Connecticut. Dennis played at Western CT, UConn and in the Braves organization and then after a few years of coaching in my town, he got a year long tour with UMass Amherst only to end up back in Westport. It was a combination of Dennis and Jay Ruggerio, my long time companion and mentor in baseball, that turned my career right-side-up.
8 weeks go by. I have finished with a team lead in hitting as the number 2 hitter in the lineup and have been turned around so fast on a swivel that I even got to throw the most innings on the team, leading the way with a .86 ERA; giving up three runs all season.
But with Winter's hand on Fall's shoulder and Summer tucked away for months to come, I look forward to the cold air in and around Staples High School. The thought of being too warm in my bed, not wanting to go out before school reminds me of the times of my eldest brother, Sam- the Mountain Man as he was known in high school. This isn't a story of my fall baseball season, but rather it helps to set up the time frame.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Sam and his friends- the JHuncket (silent "J") as they came to be known- gave me my first look into what high school was. In my eyes, they were living the life. And despite the fact that I have now been exposed to what senior year and high school REALLY is about, I reject the thought that it is not as glorified as when the JHuncket was my age.
The JHuncket was the name of the movie group that Sam and his friends made up. They filmed cheap movies with a single recording camera. Themes like James Bond and Back to the Future were favorites of theirs. And every so often, they would throw a "JHuncket Premier", sometimes being held in the basement of my house. Teenage boys and girls piled into the basement which now every piece of evidence of me and my brothers' childhood has been covered by my mother's kosher food company- the Challah Connection. And that's my favorite memory of being a young, naive little boy- seeing my brother and all his friends in the basement, in the middle of the winter.
And then there was Harry. And in the basement is where he and I sat for an hour one day- in the middle of a blizzard in my fifth grade year- watching my brother's first skateboard video, "Yeah Right!". We watched it on our old, dusty TV on the green couch in between two very small, white, wooden pillars.
But as mentioned before, the basement has been taken over by the Challah Connection. It was a slowly-but-surely movement in which it started with my mother putting one table in the corner and making the move to take over the entire basement, ridding our house of our one man cave.
But this winter is a lot a bit different than the previous ones. For one, I know what my future holds, and it's not college baseball.
And that's not the only exciting bit of information. My mother has decided to move company out of the house. Which means exactly what you think. And I could not be more excited for my man cave to come back to me, at the best time of year: second semester senior year.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Looking for some good breaks............
By Mike Moritz
I don't get what I'm missing. I have everything in front of me. It's all right there! The baseball, the acting, the drive, the belief in the universe, health, family, friends, comfort.
I feel sorry for myself, and I always catch myself doing it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The nicest hotel, so he had claimed, he'd ever stayed in. He decided to give himself some time to himself, outside of the hotel room, late at night, away from his high-strung mother. He sat in a chair, at a part of the hotel where people had stirred away from, put his head back and looked up at the beautiful glass accross the roof.
Then his eyes shut, quickly and agressively. He felt a lump in his throat but self talked himself out of crying, something that he'd been doing lately.
*He feels sorry for himself, and he always catches himself doing it.*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Then why do I feel this. I don't ask for much. All I want is....well I won't directly say them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The worst summer of his life, which happily, doesn't even compare to others around the country. And yet, for him, it couldn't have gotten worse. The things that he put the energy into...all failed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I want female compionship. And if I'm such a great guy, why can't I land one for myself. Am I missing signs? Or am I asking for too much?
Or do I just not deserve a great girl that wants every piece of me? That's the question I find myself asking. Followed with a "Why?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One. More. Time. He stood on the ferry one last time. Coming home from his very last tournament, marking the end of a summer of baseball that did not serve him what he had hoped; so it became a timer as he waited for it to reach 0.00.00 when he realized the biggest thing he had wanted...wasn't being given to him, no matter the hard work.
He stood in the same place he always did, watching the waves following the bulky, white, run-down boat like his anxiety, which had been creeping on up him lately.
And when he turned around for a quick glance toward the front of the ferry, his sight was blocked by four men.
All four of them were dressed in the same uniform: gray and light brown with tightly wound boots up to their shins and a hat. What was the story from these guys? Do we ever know how other's people lives- their languages of their own worlds- brought them to this point today? We never know these people's- to us, strangers- stories.
He asked himself this. How did these brave (and built) young men get here? What terrible hishaps might they have been through that made them still want to the heavy, longsleeved Army uniform? The four of them, one black, three white and all acted as if they were one family brothers. I mean, after all, isn't that what the Army movies promote them as?
Or was there a different story?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I put in so much work. And I sat, and sat, and sat....and sat some more this summer. And never once let my work ethic slip. And never once did I get rewarded. My reward?
A lashing out by our closer from this past high school season who'd become so cocky that he thought he was capable of playing at...Stony Brook. And Villanova. A kid who throws barely 80, and that's his only pitch.
What did I do to deserve "Fuck you Mike, it's gonna be an all junior-outfield. You won't get a drop of playing time. Your attitude sucks and you don't have a good work ethic."
..........
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did they all hate eachother?
Hate.
Hatred.
It's such a strong trait. An emotion so powerful that the lengths it could go to be satisfied would be...death. To oneself; to others; to a passion of a life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What did I do to deserve that? The hatred poured our of him and he just kept going as I walked away, showing no sign on my face of being phased but feeling ashamed; is this the treatment I really do deserve? From the universe?
And the question isn't anymore "What did I do to deserve that?"
It's "When is the universe going to punish me again?"
_________________________________________________________________________________
The summer came and the summer went. The bad was bad and the good, while rare, was good because good can't be good without good. But now I look for opportunities to help others in an effort to be more selfless, guessing that maybe I was being selfish- but with an uncertainty in that notion.
Another year of Keewaydin pasted by campers as I found myself wishing I was still a kid again, going on trips, walking across the small foot-bridge, sun bathing on the big wooden raft or having my brother watch me in a canoe, seeing my flashing paddle gleam as pulled off dock-landing after dock-landing after dock-landing; the first taste of meditation I had experienced in my life, yet unaware of the effects.
Today, I go to school, and that's what matters for now. Just the same in baseball- small bites, being present because as Keewaydin's own Larry Hayes said it best: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow's a mystery and today's a gift, that's why they call it the present."
Thank you.
I don't get what I'm missing. I have everything in front of me. It's all right there! The baseball, the acting, the drive, the belief in the universe, health, family, friends, comfort.
I feel sorry for myself, and I always catch myself doing it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The nicest hotel, so he had claimed, he'd ever stayed in. He decided to give himself some time to himself, outside of the hotel room, late at night, away from his high-strung mother. He sat in a chair, at a part of the hotel where people had stirred away from, put his head back and looked up at the beautiful glass accross the roof.
Then his eyes shut, quickly and agressively. He felt a lump in his throat but self talked himself out of crying, something that he'd been doing lately.
*He feels sorry for himself, and he always catches himself doing it.*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Then why do I feel this. I don't ask for much. All I want is....well I won't directly say them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The worst summer of his life, which happily, doesn't even compare to others around the country. And yet, for him, it couldn't have gotten worse. The things that he put the energy into...all failed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I want female compionship. And if I'm such a great guy, why can't I land one for myself. Am I missing signs? Or am I asking for too much?
Or do I just not deserve a great girl that wants every piece of me? That's the question I find myself asking. Followed with a "Why?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One. More. Time. He stood on the ferry one last time. Coming home from his very last tournament, marking the end of a summer of baseball that did not serve him what he had hoped; so it became a timer as he waited for it to reach 0.00.00 when he realized the biggest thing he had wanted...wasn't being given to him, no matter the hard work.
He stood in the same place he always did, watching the waves following the bulky, white, run-down boat like his anxiety, which had been creeping on up him lately.
And when he turned around for a quick glance toward the front of the ferry, his sight was blocked by four men.
All four of them were dressed in the same uniform: gray and light brown with tightly wound boots up to their shins and a hat. What was the story from these guys? Do we ever know how other's people lives- their languages of their own worlds- brought them to this point today? We never know these people's- to us, strangers- stories.
He asked himself this. How did these brave (and built) young men get here? What terrible hishaps might they have been through that made them still want to the heavy, longsleeved Army uniform? The four of them, one black, three white and all acted as if they were one family brothers. I mean, after all, isn't that what the Army movies promote them as?
Or was there a different story?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I put in so much work. And I sat, and sat, and sat....and sat some more this summer. And never once let my work ethic slip. And never once did I get rewarded. My reward?
A lashing out by our closer from this past high school season who'd become so cocky that he thought he was capable of playing at...Stony Brook. And Villanova. A kid who throws barely 80, and that's his only pitch.
What did I do to deserve "Fuck you Mike, it's gonna be an all junior-outfield. You won't get a drop of playing time. Your attitude sucks and you don't have a good work ethic."
..........
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did they all hate eachother?
Hate.
Hatred.
It's such a strong trait. An emotion so powerful that the lengths it could go to be satisfied would be...death. To oneself; to others; to a passion of a life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What did I do to deserve that? The hatred poured our of him and he just kept going as I walked away, showing no sign on my face of being phased but feeling ashamed; is this the treatment I really do deserve? From the universe?
And the question isn't anymore "What did I do to deserve that?"
It's "When is the universe going to punish me again?"
_________________________________________________________________________________
The summer came and the summer went. The bad was bad and the good, while rare, was good because good can't be good without good. But now I look for opportunities to help others in an effort to be more selfless, guessing that maybe I was being selfish- but with an uncertainty in that notion.
Another year of Keewaydin pasted by campers as I found myself wishing I was still a kid again, going on trips, walking across the small foot-bridge, sun bathing on the big wooden raft or having my brother watch me in a canoe, seeing my flashing paddle gleam as pulled off dock-landing after dock-landing after dock-landing; the first taste of meditation I had experienced in my life, yet unaware of the effects.
Today, I go to school, and that's what matters for now. Just the same in baseball- small bites, being present because as Keewaydin's own Larry Hayes said it best: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow's a mystery and today's a gift, that's why they call it the present."
Thank you.
Monday, July 29, 2013
The Comfort of Going Oh for Nine
By Mike Moritz
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second game in a row that he was in the lineup, something to build off of, to work with. He had been hitless in his last nine at bats but he didn't notice it. He just kept on playing the game with liberty and always sticking to the game plan, his game plan that had been keeping him afloat. Just months before he would have freaked out at 0-8; perhaps it would've stretched to 0-18 and 1-23 like it had the summer prior. But he didn't notice it. He was aware, but did not feel the frustration of wanting to look at is. He didn't care for it. He was playing for the moment each at bat, the pitch right here, right now. As long as he was sticking to the game plan, there was no rage and anger. There was no need to throw or slam a helmet or bat. He just didn't feel like he had to after a ground out. A simple "damn" would do for him, only to lead him to his next focus, whatever it may be- fielding or base running. The game plan was critical; the visualizing, self talk, self affirmation. The focus, the mental sharpness and most importantly, the breath. The meditation that kept not just his competitive side in check, but his entire life from bowing down before the anxiety that was always searching for the spark to ignite itself.
The pitchers front foot lifts up and he takes his step and loads his hands for the ensuing first pitch of his first at bat. His foot lands on time and his body- and mind- is now cleared for the swing as the ball moves closer to the plate on a 4-seam line with the slight movement away that seemed to be created by the comfortable breeze moving across the field. His hands follow the path that he engraves into his brain 300 times a day and his swing begins to level out as his legs form the base by which he turns his hips violently off of. His form arms and core start to take over the swing and whip the bat head through. Bat meets ball; fouled straight back like a bullet with a little extra ADD. Just missed it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I figured that life many different parts to it. I can imagine three main aspects of one's life in the form analogies and I hope that you think differently so as to continue to create more and deeper ideas.
The first analogy is a castle. Or in more artsy terms: Your Castle of Nostalgia.
In here, your memories are held tight to your heart- the ones you remember vividly like they happened yesterday or just a few hours ago when in fact they actually happened way back in 2004 at Keewaydin Dunmore.
I remember something from that summer; I was eight years old and I went to Keewaydin in Salisbury, Vermont, which I would continue to attend another seven years after that first one. As rest hour ended on another TKD (Typical Keewaydin Day- AKA great weather), we all gathered to the fire pit where we sat on one huge bench in the shape of a circle around the fire ring. Tim Hoffman, the director of the age group- Annwi- whose beer belly was starting to get a little too big to be called a beer belly anymore, stood up and starting listing the activities for the afternoon in his big, deep beer-belly voice. The afternoon glare was shown on him from the water behind and as soon as he finished reading the activity list- "sailing with Josh Martin, canoeing with Tyler and dramatics with Patrick Wade"- fire works went off seemingly on cue from across the water. Tim Hoffman put his arms up and yelled "I am so fucking awesome!!" to the surprise of all us 8-9 year old campers. A moment in camp that I will never forget mainly for the outright and utter bewilderment that I went through.
That's the memory that belongs here. And if you could describe the memory so well that you feel you could paint it, then it's perfect.
But life isn't just memories and while all ideas and even more than that, all five of our senses, comes from previous life experiences, to live in the past is to depress your present and future self.
So take the time to imagine your life with stages stage. There are in fact at least a couple of stages in your life. And when I say stage, I don't mean a phase, I mean a literal- figurative stage. As if a stage in an auditorium. And on your multiple stages are the things that are important to you.
You have the stage by which you value your family, friends, love the for the environment around you and personal health as well as health for the general people you love. Name it whatever you want but you'd better have it- one who does not have that stage in their life is lost because it goes no direction to those that you love.
Another stage that is important to have is the stage that you take the time to observe the passions that you have in your life- which I hope are healthy passions. Art, sports, going on walks, cooking, camping, swimming in rivers and lakes, laying down on the grass and letting earth's energy flow through you directly, finding a quiet place or looking for a better piece of New York pizza than the pizza you just ate at the closest corner pizzeria (hard to choose, right?). This is the stage that is not for family and friends. It's the stage that you put your own things on. And today I take the time establish what it is that is on that stage.
As I try to solve the mystery of baseball in my life, I realize that I should be taking the time to appreciate those that offer me happiness. For two full years baseball has been the only thing on my stage and the only thing that I take the time to put into.
Psychology, astronomy, camping, going on hikes, Keewaydin, swimming in rivers, super hero movies (seems a little out of place here, hehe) and listening to music! All things that I love! Baseball is not alone anymore as I have made the move to take more time in my life to do the things that I appreciate.
You don't have to do anything. Don't feel the obligation to keep on doing something if you sense that there are more things that will make you happier. We are all surrounded by positive energy. There's a reason that trees have branches and leaves; a tree with just a trunk is bored- one dimensional- the branches give it different parts that make it interesting and the leaves give the branches something to show off, which is what you should do to yourself- show off to yourself. Show yourself to the things that you love doing and not just one of them.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He sat on the gray bench on a gray day on a gray boat. He'd been riding the ferry for a half hour now and it almost seemed like this ferry had become a place of "in between" for him. The clouds and light rain were enough to keep everyone inside except for him. He liked being outside, alone, taking time for himself.
And he watched it move back and forth behind the boat. He saw it in his imagination. Anxiety washing up and back as the boat moved swiftly through the water and the propellers left it chasing after him. Back and forth it went. He felt it coming up on him, and washing back. It would vanish and then come on stronger than before, only to fall back once again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second game in a row that he was in the lineup, something to build off of, to work with. He had been hitless in his last nine at bats but he didn't notice it. He just kept on playing the game with liberty and always sticking to the game plan, his game plan that had been keeping him afloat. Just months before he would have freaked out at 0-8; perhaps it would've stretched to 0-18 and 1-23 like it had the summer prior. But he didn't notice it. He was aware, but did not feel the frustration of wanting to look at is. He didn't care for it. He was playing for the moment each at bat, the pitch right here, right now. As long as he was sticking to the game plan, there was no rage and anger. There was no need to throw or slam a helmet or bat. He just didn't feel like he had to after a ground out. A simple "damn" would do for him, only to lead him to his next focus, whatever it may be- fielding or base running. The game plan was critical; the visualizing, self talk, self affirmation. The focus, the mental sharpness and most importantly, the breath. The meditation that kept not just his competitive side in check, but his entire life from bowing down before the anxiety that was always searching for the spark to ignite itself.
The pitchers front foot lifts up and he takes his step and loads his hands for the ensuing first pitch of his first at bat. His foot lands on time and his body- and mind- is now cleared for the swing as the ball moves closer to the plate on a 4-seam line with the slight movement away that seemed to be created by the comfortable breeze moving across the field. His hands follow the path that he engraves into his brain 300 times a day and his swing begins to level out as his legs form the base by which he turns his hips violently off of. His form arms and core start to take over the swing and whip the bat head through. Bat meets ball; fouled straight back like a bullet with a little extra ADD. Just missed it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I figured that life many different parts to it. I can imagine three main aspects of one's life in the form analogies and I hope that you think differently so as to continue to create more and deeper ideas.
The first analogy is a castle. Or in more artsy terms: Your Castle of Nostalgia.
In here, your memories are held tight to your heart- the ones you remember vividly like they happened yesterday or just a few hours ago when in fact they actually happened way back in 2004 at Keewaydin Dunmore.
I remember something from that summer; I was eight years old and I went to Keewaydin in Salisbury, Vermont, which I would continue to attend another seven years after that first one. As rest hour ended on another TKD (Typical Keewaydin Day- AKA great weather), we all gathered to the fire pit where we sat on one huge bench in the shape of a circle around the fire ring. Tim Hoffman, the director of the age group- Annwi- whose beer belly was starting to get a little too big to be called a beer belly anymore, stood up and starting listing the activities for the afternoon in his big, deep beer-belly voice. The afternoon glare was shown on him from the water behind and as soon as he finished reading the activity list- "sailing with Josh Martin, canoeing with Tyler and dramatics with Patrick Wade"- fire works went off seemingly on cue from across the water. Tim Hoffman put his arms up and yelled "I am so fucking awesome!!" to the surprise of all us 8-9 year old campers. A moment in camp that I will never forget mainly for the outright and utter bewilderment that I went through.
That's the memory that belongs here. And if you could describe the memory so well that you feel you could paint it, then it's perfect.
But life isn't just memories and while all ideas and even more than that, all five of our senses, comes from previous life experiences, to live in the past is to depress your present and future self.
So take the time to imagine your life with stages stage. There are in fact at least a couple of stages in your life. And when I say stage, I don't mean a phase, I mean a literal- figurative stage. As if a stage in an auditorium. And on your multiple stages are the things that are important to you.
You have the stage by which you value your family, friends, love the for the environment around you and personal health as well as health for the general people you love. Name it whatever you want but you'd better have it- one who does not have that stage in their life is lost because it goes no direction to those that you love.
Another stage that is important to have is the stage that you take the time to observe the passions that you have in your life- which I hope are healthy passions. Art, sports, going on walks, cooking, camping, swimming in rivers and lakes, laying down on the grass and letting earth's energy flow through you directly, finding a quiet place or looking for a better piece of New York pizza than the pizza you just ate at the closest corner pizzeria (hard to choose, right?). This is the stage that is not for family and friends. It's the stage that you put your own things on. And today I take the time establish what it is that is on that stage.
As I try to solve the mystery of baseball in my life, I realize that I should be taking the time to appreciate those that offer me happiness. For two full years baseball has been the only thing on my stage and the only thing that I take the time to put into.
Psychology, astronomy, camping, going on hikes, Keewaydin, swimming in rivers, super hero movies (seems a little out of place here, hehe) and listening to music! All things that I love! Baseball is not alone anymore as I have made the move to take more time in my life to do the things that I appreciate.
You don't have to do anything. Don't feel the obligation to keep on doing something if you sense that there are more things that will make you happier. We are all surrounded by positive energy. There's a reason that trees have branches and leaves; a tree with just a trunk is bored- one dimensional- the branches give it different parts that make it interesting and the leaves give the branches something to show off, which is what you should do to yourself- show off to yourself. Show yourself to the things that you love doing and not just one of them.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He sat on the gray bench on a gray day on a gray boat. He'd been riding the ferry for a half hour now and it almost seemed like this ferry had become a place of "in between" for him. The clouds and light rain were enough to keep everyone inside except for him. He liked being outside, alone, taking time for himself.
And he watched it move back and forth behind the boat. He saw it in his imagination. Anxiety washing up and back as the boat moved swiftly through the water and the propellers left it chasing after him. Back and forth it went. He felt it coming up on him, and washing back. It would vanish and then come on stronger than before, only to fall back once again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, July 5, 2013
Personal Willpower
By Mike Moritz
Define: Willpower: control of one's impulses and actions; self control.
Something that I think is hard to understand is willpower. It's the power that everyone needs at some point in their life to take the next step in achieving inner self accomplishment and peace. It takes defiance, self leadership and a whole lot of concentration to complete a goal that you give yourself or that was given to you by someone else. It takes willpower to do that.
Some people are just born with an insane amount of willpower that never dies out and never goes away until a specific goal is complete, only to be triggered once again when another challenge is standing in the way.
Others', meanwhile, just don't have it- they need to create it, and that can be very difficult.
Watching a friend try to get over an ex is....well it's not really all that engaging, until they can't actually get over them. Then, if you care enough about your friends, and I hope you do, it becomes almost your own problem, as if you have the answer and you are the one who is trying to get over the ex.
Then you realize that as much as they claim they are "done" with the ex, they really aren't. They don't have the drive- the willpower- to actually do anything about it and just kind of like being sad and feeling lonely. Then it becomes boring and repetitive for you.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Down 2 zip, top of the 7th with runners on second and third and one out. He's standing on deck, putting a little more effort into focusing; taking deeper, longer breaths. In through the nose and back out the same way. He remembers for a brief moment his goals, the list of them that he had written out that morning, and quickly brings it back to the breath. So focused on the breath that even positive thoughts and self affirmations are not welcome here right now. A four pitch at bat ends with his teammate popping up to the first baseman. He rises now, out of a catchers crouch and walks toward the batter's box, a rare feeling of complete peace...but only for a few seconds.
"Fuck man!" He looks back, giving a glare that was naturally supportive to his dugout and his teammate who just launched his helmet on the dugout fence from inside of it. He sees mostly hispanic kids, one black kid and a couple white kids as well. He turns to see his coach, hispanic, standing in the third base coaching box. He looks at third, then at second, as if looking for some moral support of "this pitcher's got nuthin' left in the tank, I just ripped him". He wasn't sure what he got from them though.
Two whites kids on third and second, respectively.
He starts by putting one foot in the box, only to quickly pull it out as if he had just dipped his foot in a pool of 300 degree boiling water; he could sense the anxiety tugging away at him, ready to burst- it wasn't quite there yet though, he could merely sense it's presence in the distance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Define: Willpower: control of one's impulses and actions; self control.
Something that I think is hard to understand is willpower. It's the power that everyone needs at some point in their life to take the next step in achieving inner self accomplishment and peace. It takes defiance, self leadership and a whole lot of concentration to complete a goal that you give yourself or that was given to you by someone else. It takes willpower to do that.
Some people are just born with an insane amount of willpower that never dies out and never goes away until a specific goal is complete, only to be triggered once again when another challenge is standing in the way.
Others', meanwhile, just don't have it- they need to create it, and that can be very difficult.
Watching a friend try to get over an ex is....well it's not really all that engaging, until they can't actually get over them. Then, if you care enough about your friends, and I hope you do, it becomes almost your own problem, as if you have the answer and you are the one who is trying to get over the ex.
Then you realize that as much as they claim they are "done" with the ex, they really aren't. They don't have the drive- the willpower- to actually do anything about it and just kind of like being sad and feeling lonely. Then it becomes boring and repetitive for you.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Down 2 zip, top of the 7th with runners on second and third and one out. He's standing on deck, putting a little more effort into focusing; taking deeper, longer breaths. In through the nose and back out the same way. He remembers for a brief moment his goals, the list of them that he had written out that morning, and quickly brings it back to the breath. So focused on the breath that even positive thoughts and self affirmations are not welcome here right now. A four pitch at bat ends with his teammate popping up to the first baseman. He rises now, out of a catchers crouch and walks toward the batter's box, a rare feeling of complete peace...but only for a few seconds.
"Fuck man!" He looks back, giving a glare that was naturally supportive to his dugout and his teammate who just launched his helmet on the dugout fence from inside of it. He sees mostly hispanic kids, one black kid and a couple white kids as well. He turns to see his coach, hispanic, standing in the third base coaching box. He looks at third, then at second, as if looking for some moral support of "this pitcher's got nuthin' left in the tank, I just ripped him". He wasn't sure what he got from them though.
Two whites kids on third and second, respectively.
He starts by putting one foot in the box, only to quickly pull it out as if he had just dipped his foot in a pool of 300 degree boiling water; he could sense the anxiety tugging away at him, ready to burst- it wasn't quite there yet though, he could merely sense it's presence in the distance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Willpower can come in any form or variation. Recently, I have
decided to use willpower to essentially force other parts of my life onto the
center stage rather than baseball.
There is a deeper
lesson to be learned here that I have realized.
My life is not
just baseball.
Baseball is simply
another area of my life that I enjoy doing and while it's not always smiling
and laughing, and frankly a lot of it is anxiety, it's enjoyable because it
really is the only part of my life that involves competition. I suppose part of
me wants to compete, clearly. But ultimately, my life is revolved around
everything that I enjoy doing. And as long as I am alive, I need to make the
time to do those things, or even just give more thought and appreciation to
them.
This actually
should help my baseball career along. The less spotlight I put on it, the less
pressure. On top of that, giving more thought to things that I like doing or
thinking about outside of baseball makes me a healthier being, which means I'm
happier, which is the most important thing.
Now, that doesn't
mean I will start half-assing it. I won't stop working as hard as I do until
baseball kicks me out of baseball.
There is a
difference between taking something off the center stage and just not
caring for it.
If you enjoy dong
something and you don't succeed to your expectations, don't just give the
"I don't care" attitude because you know and I know and everyone on
your team knows that you DO care and that you really do WANT to succeed and
that saying that you don't care is just a way for you to avoid the self doubt
and inner uneasiness. It's just a way of avoiding the problem or task at hand.
It's healthy to care and everyone knows you want to do well. So care about
it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All he was excited
for was 24 hours from that point. He would be in the house that he loved so
much, in the state he loved so much.
His break. His real summer vacation.
His break. His real summer vacation.
Every time he
takes that 4 hour 41 minute train ride from Croton Harmen, NY to Castleton,
Vermont, his life seemed to be able to breath. The monster that eats away at
him everyday and the energy-emotional, mental and physical- that he spends
everyday on not getting torn down goes away. This time seemed a little
different though.
It seemed like he
was looking more toward a sneak peak at something. Something of the future. And
it excited him because he felt like when he arrived infront of that huge wooden
door that slides to the right hand side, the door that takes just too darm much
strength for a door to open, walked across the floor to the other side, passing
a couple couches and chairs on the left, a ping pong and pool table on the
right, and came to a window. He could imagine himself using that window for
what it has been used best for since years before he even allowed to enter the
Holy Barn that sat upon the property of which his trips to Vermont take him to-
peeing. Right out the window.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Going for a swim
By Mike Moritz
I don't know why I have been cursed with such bad anxiety, but I don't like it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He stood on the back of the ferry, leaning over the railing, he could see the front of him and his dad's car on the lower level of the ship where all the cars and trucks sat, idle, waiting the ferry to come in to port. As the ferry moved swiftly through the huge lake, he observed the strong current that the propellors left behind and the suddenly smooth line of water that quickly followed it. The day was strong; little clouds in the sky and a bulky wind from the boat that seemingly rushed through every room and door to the back of his body as he looked up and out toward the large island that they had left just 30 or so minutes ago. He could feel his body and mind tightening up and slowing down, acting uncomfortable while he asked himself why it was happening, the same question he asks every time it starts up.
"Head case!" (Of course, he turned instantly) "Com' ir."
The tall, athletic hispanic man wore khaki cargo shorts, a backwards baseball hat and a black shirt with a plastic cup of beer in one hand and the railing in the other.
He walked up to him, knowing that he was a very comforting man yet he was still intimated by his presence as a coach.
"Vex, talk to me about what you go through on a daily basis."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If your reading this, you probably know what it's like to feel like a shitty person; someone who feels like they might be underperforming in life; someone who maybe is not as a gifted as they once thought; someone who thought they knew the situation they were in but was surprised to find out something that they didn't expect, or ever wanted to know.
Today, I was at the baseball field doing my usual fielding routine. On the football field I could hear a kid my age, frustrated with himself. The four of them were doing infield practice, with their bags representing bases, and as one of them would hit ground balls to the other two, they would field and make throws to the first baseman. I stopped to watch this kid, as he had gotten my attention through his constant use of explicit words. With every throw he made- most of them were off the mark and most of those throws were no where close to the first baseman- I could see the hesitation in his head being shown through his arm motion. He was scared to throw the baseball across the "diamond" and his lack of confidence created terrible throws.
Here I was, going about my normal fielding drills and witnessing a complete mental lapse that I could fix right there on the spot. But I didn't. I didn't bother to help him. In fact all I said was "You're a headcase! Stop being a headcase!" and that probably made him feel worse.
I regret saying that. But I regret even more not actually helping him, because I think I could have. Now he probably goes home angry and discouraged that he can't make a simple throw to first. Or, he could have gone home confident and feeling good about himself that he overcame another obstacle on his to living up to his potential.
I feel selfish for not helping him. How many times have I done something for myself because I felt that in some particular situation, I might have needed something for myself more than for others. And I still believe it's okay to be selfish sometimes, heck, I believe you NEED to be a little selfish in order to be happy. But I was too selfish and now I am feeling the resentment for it.
-
And before that occurred, I had to tell one of my formally closest friends that I did not see us going back, to keep it vague. And I feel terrible about that, especially considering that I really don't know what the future holds.
-
I'm getting stuck behind a kid in the line up who did not really do much over the offseason and all the sudden became an All-State second baseman.
"Cam, how did you get to be All-State?"
"I had a sist on my wrist so that shut me down for most of the offseason. During the season though, all I did was turn on every inside fastball. Anything outside, I laid off. Any off speed pitch, laid off."
And I went balls to the wall everyday of that winter. I got stuck on the bench with my coach telling me I couldn't catch a fly ball or I couldn't hit a cut off man.
-
Lately, sometimes my anxiety is expressed through the need to text. Just to text. Anyone.
I feel like a shitty person. But I know that I shouldn't because I should be happy to be alive. And so should you.
So every time you feel like a shitty person, feel shitty about feeling shitty. And do something to make yourself happy. I meditate. I'm sure you have your thing so turn to it for guidance. Just don't let the shitty feeling eat at you, because that's an unhealthy philosophy and it will lead to depression; you don't want to be depressed. You and I both want to be happy and healthy people, doing what we love to do.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He and his brother made the 35 minute drive with their beloved dog in the pouring rain to the hiking trail and swimming hole. His brother made him drive the manual despite the poor driving weather for more practice and he did well, feeling good about himself for it and parked across the street from a middle school.
Their dog was ecstatic, finally being able to get out of the house and into more natural lands. She ran twenty feet ahead and then twenty feet behind and ran back up twenty feet again. Sniffing, barking, peeing and pooping all over the place. Running. And happy about it, joyful. His brother and him carried nothing but the dog leash, a water bottle and each a pair of extra boxers. His brother also carried a green and white towel that the brothers had since they went to camp for the first time.
They walked along the edge of the trail which toward the end became a small yet steep by a couple of inches into the water alongside the river. The dog seemed to sense their urgency for safety as the roots of the trees and other rocks bulged up from the ground became slippery from the constant calming patter of the rain. The dog walked between the two of them, and sometime walking down the six or so inches to the actual water to swim for a couple feet. They reached the swimming hole, a small area of the river between two sets of rocks that created a little bit of white water, but not so much that one could not walk across. Just as it was the entire walk, no one else was swimming. They got just a little blown away before getting into swim. They were already just about soaked from the rain so it didn't matter much to them when getting used to the water.
As his brother twirled around in circles in the water, enjoying his high, Vex decided to get up on a rock that water was splitting around and seemingly happy to do so. He looked down the river for a moment, and then down at his feet to see his white dog with a brown spot of hair around her right eye making the three foot trek across the conjoining rock to join him on his own boulder. He looked down the river again, this time with a little more concentration. As the rain seemed to lighten up a tad, he could imagine a canoe with himself and a former trip mate from one of his trips out of camp paddling down and around the bend.
He loved it. He loved the river. He loved himself. A rare moment in time, in his life where he actually felt at peace. As if whatever he told his khaki wearing, black shirt, backwards baseball hat coach was no longer accurate. He loved being out here. In the wilderness, where the more wilderness he experiences, the more calm he becomes.
He could visualize living a peaceful life in Vermont, the home of his boyhood for 8 summers in a row. A beautiful plot of land with a small barn and a well of fresh water and a backyard that was open and free. A nearby river that he uses for energy for his home. Living in a community, where people who he's only spoken to once still remember his name and voice.
As they pulled into the driveway of their home, the three of them-the dog too- were still at ease. The rain still coming down, though less than before. They relaxed in the sunroom and made a healthy, filling lunch observing the rain as they talked about concepts of living happy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know why I have been cursed with such bad anxiety, but I don't like it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He stood on the back of the ferry, leaning over the railing, he could see the front of him and his dad's car on the lower level of the ship where all the cars and trucks sat, idle, waiting the ferry to come in to port. As the ferry moved swiftly through the huge lake, he observed the strong current that the propellors left behind and the suddenly smooth line of water that quickly followed it. The day was strong; little clouds in the sky and a bulky wind from the boat that seemingly rushed through every room and door to the back of his body as he looked up and out toward the large island that they had left just 30 or so minutes ago. He could feel his body and mind tightening up and slowing down, acting uncomfortable while he asked himself why it was happening, the same question he asks every time it starts up.
"Head case!" (Of course, he turned instantly) "Com' ir."
The tall, athletic hispanic man wore khaki cargo shorts, a backwards baseball hat and a black shirt with a plastic cup of beer in one hand and the railing in the other.
He walked up to him, knowing that he was a very comforting man yet he was still intimated by his presence as a coach.
"Vex, talk to me about what you go through on a daily basis."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If your reading this, you probably know what it's like to feel like a shitty person; someone who feels like they might be underperforming in life; someone who maybe is not as a gifted as they once thought; someone who thought they knew the situation they were in but was surprised to find out something that they didn't expect, or ever wanted to know.
Today, I was at the baseball field doing my usual fielding routine. On the football field I could hear a kid my age, frustrated with himself. The four of them were doing infield practice, with their bags representing bases, and as one of them would hit ground balls to the other two, they would field and make throws to the first baseman. I stopped to watch this kid, as he had gotten my attention through his constant use of explicit words. With every throw he made- most of them were off the mark and most of those throws were no where close to the first baseman- I could see the hesitation in his head being shown through his arm motion. He was scared to throw the baseball across the "diamond" and his lack of confidence created terrible throws.
Here I was, going about my normal fielding drills and witnessing a complete mental lapse that I could fix right there on the spot. But I didn't. I didn't bother to help him. In fact all I said was "You're a headcase! Stop being a headcase!" and that probably made him feel worse.
I regret saying that. But I regret even more not actually helping him, because I think I could have. Now he probably goes home angry and discouraged that he can't make a simple throw to first. Or, he could have gone home confident and feeling good about himself that he overcame another obstacle on his to living up to his potential.
I feel selfish for not helping him. How many times have I done something for myself because I felt that in some particular situation, I might have needed something for myself more than for others. And I still believe it's okay to be selfish sometimes, heck, I believe you NEED to be a little selfish in order to be happy. But I was too selfish and now I am feeling the resentment for it.
-
And before that occurred, I had to tell one of my formally closest friends that I did not see us going back, to keep it vague. And I feel terrible about that, especially considering that I really don't know what the future holds.
-
I'm getting stuck behind a kid in the line up who did not really do much over the offseason and all the sudden became an All-State second baseman.
"Cam, how did you get to be All-State?"
"I had a sist on my wrist so that shut me down for most of the offseason. During the season though, all I did was turn on every inside fastball. Anything outside, I laid off. Any off speed pitch, laid off."
And I went balls to the wall everyday of that winter. I got stuck on the bench with my coach telling me I couldn't catch a fly ball or I couldn't hit a cut off man.
-
Lately, sometimes my anxiety is expressed through the need to text. Just to text. Anyone.
I feel like a shitty person. But I know that I shouldn't because I should be happy to be alive. And so should you.
So every time you feel like a shitty person, feel shitty about feeling shitty. And do something to make yourself happy. I meditate. I'm sure you have your thing so turn to it for guidance. Just don't let the shitty feeling eat at you, because that's an unhealthy philosophy and it will lead to depression; you don't want to be depressed. You and I both want to be happy and healthy people, doing what we love to do.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He and his brother made the 35 minute drive with their beloved dog in the pouring rain to the hiking trail and swimming hole. His brother made him drive the manual despite the poor driving weather for more practice and he did well, feeling good about himself for it and parked across the street from a middle school.
Their dog was ecstatic, finally being able to get out of the house and into more natural lands. She ran twenty feet ahead and then twenty feet behind and ran back up twenty feet again. Sniffing, barking, peeing and pooping all over the place. Running. And happy about it, joyful. His brother and him carried nothing but the dog leash, a water bottle and each a pair of extra boxers. His brother also carried a green and white towel that the brothers had since they went to camp for the first time.
They walked along the edge of the trail which toward the end became a small yet steep by a couple of inches into the water alongside the river. The dog seemed to sense their urgency for safety as the roots of the trees and other rocks bulged up from the ground became slippery from the constant calming patter of the rain. The dog walked between the two of them, and sometime walking down the six or so inches to the actual water to swim for a couple feet. They reached the swimming hole, a small area of the river between two sets of rocks that created a little bit of white water, but not so much that one could not walk across. Just as it was the entire walk, no one else was swimming. They got just a little blown away before getting into swim. They were already just about soaked from the rain so it didn't matter much to them when getting used to the water.
As his brother twirled around in circles in the water, enjoying his high, Vex decided to get up on a rock that water was splitting around and seemingly happy to do so. He looked down the river for a moment, and then down at his feet to see his white dog with a brown spot of hair around her right eye making the three foot trek across the conjoining rock to join him on his own boulder. He looked down the river again, this time with a little more concentration. As the rain seemed to lighten up a tad, he could imagine a canoe with himself and a former trip mate from one of his trips out of camp paddling down and around the bend.
He loved it. He loved the river. He loved himself. A rare moment in time, in his life where he actually felt at peace. As if whatever he told his khaki wearing, black shirt, backwards baseball hat coach was no longer accurate. He loved being out here. In the wilderness, where the more wilderness he experiences, the more calm he becomes.
He could visualize living a peaceful life in Vermont, the home of his boyhood for 8 summers in a row. A beautiful plot of land with a small barn and a well of fresh water and a backyard that was open and free. A nearby river that he uses for energy for his home. Living in a community, where people who he's only spoken to once still remember his name and voice.
As they pulled into the driveway of their home, the three of them-the dog too- were still at ease. The rain still coming down, though less than before. They relaxed in the sunroom and made a healthy, filling lunch observing the rain as they talked about concepts of living happy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday, June 13, 2013
A Nice Throwback
By Mike Moritz
No, I did not name this post "A Nice Throwback" in honor of all the 90's rap that I happen to be listening to right now.
I remember my mental troubles (this is important- keep in mind that I am mentally healthy as opposed to unlucky people deal with MUCH MUCH MUCH worse struggles than I do on a daily basis-I'm grateful for my health, as you should be, too.) were oh-so-simple. The only thing I did was over think, and it only happened on the baseball field. Now a days, I deal with anxiety, easy stress, emotional takeovers and yes, over thinking- not just on the field; as I grasp a more firm grip on these issues on the diamond, I find them trickling into my personal life more often.
But today, I bring it back to "good (well, not good) ol' days." I just can't help but over think seemingly every social interaction that is remotely serious.
The horrible thing is that the deeper I get in over thinking something, at some point, the anxiety kicks in. And I HATE anxiety. But through the expirience that I have sadly put myself through too many times, I can break the process down into five steps:
One: A situation pops up in which you start over thinking in the first place. Example: "Does my girlfriend still have feelings for me?"
Two: You look for reasons to back up your irrational, emotionally driven thought. Example: "She seemed a little weird around me earlier, she was very rude to me a couple days ago, she can't hang out this weekend and did not say what she was doing."
Three: Once you- your irrational emotions rather- have established the reasons, you start to hyper analyze each reason down to a "well that happened because of..." which ultimately leads you back to your orignal question that started your freak out.
Four: After you analyze the reasons till it makes you crazy, you start to get flustered. You're not sure what to think expect "what happened?" "How did I mess this up?" You jump to conclusions that maybe just are not appropriate quite yet, if at all. Your confidence is the thing that takes the biggest hit. Blaming yourself is easy and it's probably the easiest thing for your mind to do at that point so consequently, it's your confidence that gets hurt the most.
Five: Anxiety hits home right here. If you are self aware, then it should be no problem recognizing the anxiety from the beginning. For the average human being, you might not realize it until here. I tend to be so wrapped up in the actual process that I don't realize that I have been having an anxiety attack until the end.
Yeah, that shit sucks. But the good news is that you- as in your more rational, loving and happy version of you- can enter into the process at any point and stop it.
As I learnt it, there are five basic aspects that everyone's life is based on: Environment, thoughts, moods, behaviors and physical reactions. The last four are the aspects that are always in your control. Depending on the person, those four can happen in any order and it is your duty to make it stop if you so desire happiness.
A lot of the time, if trusting your gut has worked in the past, then you should have confidence in it still. If your gut is telling you something is wrong with the situation your in, then there probably IS something wrong. It's funny because this lesson right here relates back to the previous post. If the situation is wrong for you, the continue to be patient.
Yes, that "example" situation that I used happened to be apart of my life.
And I'll cut you a deal: I'll wait with you, because what I'm looking for has yet to happen. And searching for some extra happiness is too depressing to go through alone.
No, I did not name this post "A Nice Throwback" in honor of all the 90's rap that I happen to be listening to right now.
I remember my mental troubles (this is important- keep in mind that I am mentally healthy as opposed to unlucky people deal with MUCH MUCH MUCH worse struggles than I do on a daily basis-I'm grateful for my health, as you should be, too.) were oh-so-simple. The only thing I did was over think, and it only happened on the baseball field. Now a days, I deal with anxiety, easy stress, emotional takeovers and yes, over thinking- not just on the field; as I grasp a more firm grip on these issues on the diamond, I find them trickling into my personal life more often.
But today, I bring it back to "good (well, not good) ol' days." I just can't help but over think seemingly every social interaction that is remotely serious.
The horrible thing is that the deeper I get in over thinking something, at some point, the anxiety kicks in. And I HATE anxiety. But through the expirience that I have sadly put myself through too many times, I can break the process down into five steps:
One: A situation pops up in which you start over thinking in the first place. Example: "Does my girlfriend still have feelings for me?"
Two: You look for reasons to back up your irrational, emotionally driven thought. Example: "She seemed a little weird around me earlier, she was very rude to me a couple days ago, she can't hang out this weekend and did not say what she was doing."
Three: Once you- your irrational emotions rather- have established the reasons, you start to hyper analyze each reason down to a "well that happened because of..." which ultimately leads you back to your orignal question that started your freak out.
Four: After you analyze the reasons till it makes you crazy, you start to get flustered. You're not sure what to think expect "what happened?" "How did I mess this up?" You jump to conclusions that maybe just are not appropriate quite yet, if at all. Your confidence is the thing that takes the biggest hit. Blaming yourself is easy and it's probably the easiest thing for your mind to do at that point so consequently, it's your confidence that gets hurt the most.
Five: Anxiety hits home right here. If you are self aware, then it should be no problem recognizing the anxiety from the beginning. For the average human being, you might not realize it until here. I tend to be so wrapped up in the actual process that I don't realize that I have been having an anxiety attack until the end.
Yeah, that shit sucks. But the good news is that you- as in your more rational, loving and happy version of you- can enter into the process at any point and stop it.
As I learnt it, there are five basic aspects that everyone's life is based on: Environment, thoughts, moods, behaviors and physical reactions. The last four are the aspects that are always in your control. Depending on the person, those four can happen in any order and it is your duty to make it stop if you so desire happiness.
A lot of the time, if trusting your gut has worked in the past, then you should have confidence in it still. If your gut is telling you something is wrong with the situation your in, then there probably IS something wrong. It's funny because this lesson right here relates back to the previous post. If the situation is wrong for you, the continue to be patient.
Yes, that "example" situation that I used happened to be apart of my life.
And I'll cut you a deal: I'll wait with you, because what I'm looking for has yet to happen. And searching for some extra happiness is too depressing to go through alone.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Something better will come
By Mike Moritz
My sophomore year Spanish teacher was more than a teacher to me. He was, still is and hopefully will continue to act as a mentor to me. I have found myself telling him about things that I only tell my close friends and time and time again, he has always said the right thing to me.
And I remember one of the most the memorable things he taught me, just a few weeks ago.
I'm upset that I'm not get much playing time on Varsity baseball this year (I've accepted it but I'm still upset about it-no one likes being a bench player). He and I stopped in the hallway and asked me how baseball was going. And I was honest with him. I told him it was frustrating that I wasn't playing up to my ability in practice, how I was having trouble with my fielding because I felt too much pressure from my Coach.
I was so successful in Mr. (Senor) Barahona's class. I got an A for the year! Walking into his classroom everyday was a joy in itself. He supported me every step of the way and went out of his way to help me out when I was confused. He was fun and a great person. He's a great story teller and is passionate about everything he says. A moment when he put down the white board marker in the middle of writing a sentence and asked us "How did I become a teacher?" makes class fun, which encouraged me.
Point is, he's an amazing man.
"Mike, I want you to remember something: Something BETTER will happen. You are an amazing kid and truly gifted. Don't you ever forget that."
And the more time I have had for that notion to sink in, the more I realize that it's true.
For one reason AT LEAST.
I found a girl, which didn't work out and I thought that was disappointing at first. But now I have a better one. A better fit for me.
I haven't gotten much playing time. But now I have a really, really, REALLY, good feeling about this summer/fall season.
I just want to pass that lesson on to my peers. And anyone who wants to know. Patiance is a virtue and no one will always have patience but you should try to remember that something happen that makes you unhappy now is building up for something better in the future. Maybe it's something you were looking for or maybe it's a surprise.
But I can tell you that when Barahona looked at me right in the face and told me that, I got chills. And I bought into the notion instantly.
My sophomore year Spanish teacher was more than a teacher to me. He was, still is and hopefully will continue to act as a mentor to me. I have found myself telling him about things that I only tell my close friends and time and time again, he has always said the right thing to me.
And I remember one of the most the memorable things he taught me, just a few weeks ago.
I'm upset that I'm not get much playing time on Varsity baseball this year (I've accepted it but I'm still upset about it-no one likes being a bench player). He and I stopped in the hallway and asked me how baseball was going. And I was honest with him. I told him it was frustrating that I wasn't playing up to my ability in practice, how I was having trouble with my fielding because I felt too much pressure from my Coach.
I was so successful in Mr. (Senor) Barahona's class. I got an A for the year! Walking into his classroom everyday was a joy in itself. He supported me every step of the way and went out of his way to help me out when I was confused. He was fun and a great person. He's a great story teller and is passionate about everything he says. A moment when he put down the white board marker in the middle of writing a sentence and asked us "How did I become a teacher?" makes class fun, which encouraged me.
Point is, he's an amazing man.
"Mike, I want you to remember something: Something BETTER will happen. You are an amazing kid and truly gifted. Don't you ever forget that."
And the more time I have had for that notion to sink in, the more I realize that it's true.
For one reason AT LEAST.
I found a girl, which didn't work out and I thought that was disappointing at first. But now I have a better one. A better fit for me.
I haven't gotten much playing time. But now I have a really, really, REALLY, good feeling about this summer/fall season.
I just want to pass that lesson on to my peers. And anyone who wants to know. Patiance is a virtue and no one will always have patience but you should try to remember that something happen that makes you unhappy now is building up for something better in the future. Maybe it's something you were looking for or maybe it's a surprise.
But I can tell you that when Barahona looked at me right in the face and told me that, I got chills. And I bought into the notion instantly.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
A problem with anxiety
By Mike Moritz
I have had anxiety problems in the past, I have them in the present and I will probably have them in the future. The anxiety can be so bad sometimes that it paralyzes me to seemingly no end, mainly on the baseball field. I have been prone to holding up my swing on 3-1 fastballs down the middle, the exact pitch I was looking for. And when those at bats end badly, you'll be lucky to see me return to the dugout and NOT throw my bat and slam my helmet.
Since receiving mental rehabilitation over the winter (therapy), I have made great strides to new heights, but I'm not there yet. I am not quite where I want to be but I will get there in time and patience is THE virtue here.
I have learned how to breathe, I've learned how to force myself to breathe when the anxiety tightens up my chest. I can slow the game down now. Seeing things happening is something that I can do now while self talking myself into good things, into making a smart play has become pretty natural to me now.
I have been having problems in the field lately, which happened to be a result of my coach, who tends to put pressure on his players and I let my guard down and let him in my head.
But the anxiety does not stop there.
I have a person in my life that I can't seem to stop stressing about. For the first time, I am having legitimate anxiety problems with...my social life. More so, my love life.
Anxiety is a monster, just like it's brother, Fear. And it grows and grows until you start saying things that you just couldn't quite keep in your head. I need to get up and do something, but most of the time, I don't know what I want.
Sometimes I do know what I want-a kiss- and it nags and nags as if it's eating away at my well being. And it grows until I can't sit in class anymore, to the point where one or two deep breaths won't ease it for the time being. I need to remove myself from class, "Mrs. Robbins, can I go to the bathroom?" and find myself not even entering the bathroom. Rather, just finding some place quiet and peaceful, just to breathe, just to slow everything down.
And it works, that's why the human body is so amazing.
Sometimes I can get the opportunity to listen to music during class and I can almost throw the anxiety out just by connecting with music that I love.
Slowing everything, especially in fast moving situations is something that we all have to ability to do and it is our duty, we owe it to ourselves to do breathe and relax our soul, body and mind.
I have had anxiety problems in the past, I have them in the present and I will probably have them in the future. The anxiety can be so bad sometimes that it paralyzes me to seemingly no end, mainly on the baseball field. I have been prone to holding up my swing on 3-1 fastballs down the middle, the exact pitch I was looking for. And when those at bats end badly, you'll be lucky to see me return to the dugout and NOT throw my bat and slam my helmet.
Since receiving mental rehabilitation over the winter (therapy), I have made great strides to new heights, but I'm not there yet. I am not quite where I want to be but I will get there in time and patience is THE virtue here.
I have learned how to breathe, I've learned how to force myself to breathe when the anxiety tightens up my chest. I can slow the game down now. Seeing things happening is something that I can do now while self talking myself into good things, into making a smart play has become pretty natural to me now.
I have been having problems in the field lately, which happened to be a result of my coach, who tends to put pressure on his players and I let my guard down and let him in my head.
But the anxiety does not stop there.
I have a person in my life that I can't seem to stop stressing about. For the first time, I am having legitimate anxiety problems with...my social life. More so, my love life.
Anxiety is a monster, just like it's brother, Fear. And it grows and grows until you start saying things that you just couldn't quite keep in your head. I need to get up and do something, but most of the time, I don't know what I want.
Sometimes I do know what I want-a kiss- and it nags and nags as if it's eating away at my well being. And it grows until I can't sit in class anymore, to the point where one or two deep breaths won't ease it for the time being. I need to remove myself from class, "Mrs. Robbins, can I go to the bathroom?" and find myself not even entering the bathroom. Rather, just finding some place quiet and peaceful, just to breathe, just to slow everything down.
And it works, that's why the human body is so amazing.
Sometimes I can get the opportunity to listen to music during class and I can almost throw the anxiety out just by connecting with music that I love.
Slowing everything, especially in fast moving situations is something that we all have to ability to do and it is our duty, we owe it to ourselves to do breathe and relax our soul, body and mind.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)