Hopes, Dreams and Hard Truths

“You are allowed to be upset when someone hurts you. You are not obligated to always be the bigger person and invalidate your own feelings. There is no need to immediately search for the lesson in the hurt, or instantly thank the ones who hurt you for gifting you resiliency. You are allowed to just feel betrayed and wounded. You don’t have to ingest the pain. You don’t have to let it simmer inside you, only to bubble up when you last expect it. The feelings of those who hurt you are not more important than your own. You don’t owe them forgiveness. You don’t owe them understanding. You owe yourself all of that. You owe yourself the freedom to honour your feelings, however heavy they may be”

I’ve remained relatively quiet about most things volleyball related the last little while. It has been a challenging and turbulent time for myself to say the least as I’ve had to navigate some highs and many lows through changes outside of my control. In actuality, I have found myself in a position where I have needed to step away from training and competing for my mental health. And so I write this as a form of therapy to help unburden myself from the pain that I carry.

I like to think that through everything that has happened in my life, and in these moments in particular, that I have been true to myself and my character. And part of my process in remaining true to myself is to take to writing through my pain - as my way of healing, grieving and moving forward. I know it’s been quite some time since my last blog post but here we are. 

In order to be an athlete at the elite level there are some tangible skills you must have. Skills within your sport for obvious reasons, mental fortitude, resiliency, etc etc. I have always quietly gone about my work. Showing up every day as a true professional - early for training, assisting in set up, taking care of my body, watching video, securing sponsorships, taking care of my finances, communicating with coaches and other athletes the list goes on. Recently I would show up to training and do absolutely none of those things. Keeping to myself as much as possible to avoid opening the floodgates and trying to keep my emotions at bay. I have found little to no joy in training. I have unfortunately tapped out my internal resources by continuing on despite everything thrown my way. Physically near my best shape, I am mentally and emotionally depleted.

How did I get here?

I’d like to start from the beginning. Not the beginning of my story, that would take too much time, but with a reflection of the last few years. I think it’s important to start at the beginning because if you look at my situation through an isolated lens you might think I am weak, that I lack drive, or am simply not good enough. And if you still feel that way at the end of my story that is okay too. But this is my truth, and that view is not true to the impact of what it takes to have sustained resilience through shattered hopes, continual challenges, dishonesty, lack of integrity and a system that doesn’t always support you.

I have spent a lot of time during the last 3 years contemplating retirement. At 33 years old I feel the weight of certain choices and how they may impact my future. I see the lack of sustainability in pursuing this career as there are no financial structures in place to ensure any sense of stability. So I work fairly full time and love what I do to balance my passion for this sport. I see the lack of support within our system, so I do my best to mentor and be a voice for those within who feel they may have none. I want to have children and start a family, and have a life outside of volleyball. Those thoughts are very prevalent in my mind and my choices. And yet through every single challenge I’ve experienced I still see myself improving, learning and finding a level of success that is meaningful to me. It’s this balancing act of keeping my hopes and dreams alive, and learning to navigate some of the hard truths. 

In 2022 I only competed 5 times. I switched positions, and through that change received little to no coaching or feedback. Often relying on the volunteer coaching staff to debrief games, matches and explore tactics. I spent the year partnerless. Took on more career opportunities to balance my life. I spent a month working with our Youth National team while maintaining a level of strength and conditioning. I picked up a second role at the University institution I work at. I caught covid while travelling to the only 2 FIVB events I participated in. And I took the year as a year of learning. I questioned a lot during this time whether it even made sense to continue.

Despite taking a month off to coach, a 2nd place finish at Nationals last year left me feeling hopeful for what’s to come. And I carefully crafted out a plan, a partner and resources for the following season. This year has gone anything but according to plan, but I like to think I’ve stayed ready for every opportunity. Being open to the opportunities that have come my way, and yet being selective in pursuing what I felt was in my best interest.

At the beginning of the year I lost my uncle and my grandfather. My mother spent days sick in the hospital while I stressed every single moment being away. In February during the first 10 points of the first game of Canadian NORCECA trials my partner tore her ACL. I was then ineligible for NORCECA events that would have boosted my points. Devastation and pain seemed to follow me through the cold and dark months of winter. I remember sitting in the office with my coach, crying and looking for guidance as to what route to go next to pursue my bigger dreams. Partnerless once again I somehow managed to find myself on the podium at an FIVB futures event in New Zealand to start the year. A small bright moment of joy. 

The next opportunity came about a little last minute. Originally thinking of not competing in Canadian trials for NORCECA World Championship trials due to being partnerless, an opportunity to play with one of our Senior athletes transpired and I seized the opportunity. I was visiting family in Victoria, and booked my flight back to Toronto earlier than expected. Less than a week of training and we managed to win the Canadian trials which gave one month to prep for the NORCECA World Championship trials in Punta Cana.

I spent every moment working my ass off. There is nothing I have wanted more than to play in one of the biggest events and challenge myself against the worlds best. Opportunities to do so are so few and far between because of how difficult it is to work your way up through the points system, and well without a consistent partner, that’s been literally impossible lol. And on the other side of this, I saw and hoped for what could be a long term partnership opportunity.

And so in June I realized one of my biggest goals in this sport. On a Thursday I had qualified myself and Canada for a position in the Senior World Championships in October of the same year. Even better, I got to do it with Daniel by my side, standing on the podium together. And the very next day that dream fell apart for me with a vague text message and en email. The reason being - my coach had decided to come out of retirement to continue her dream of playing. I had been replaced by someone who was supposed to have my best interest at heart. While I will always respect peoples decisions to pursue their dreams it doesn’t remove the pain those decisions cause, or make my feelings any less valid. And I am not the only athlete that was directly impacted by those choices as similar situations happened a year prior in an athlete losing a partnership to the coach.

To be clear, Volleyball Canada’s policy is to send the team where both athletes are eligible by FIVB’s standards. Eligibility meant both athletes had to be ranked in the top 250 in the world. My ranking at the time? 270. So let’s reflect on what happened. Missing out on NORCECA trials at the beginning of the year made me ineligible for events that would have given me enough points to find myself in the top 250. Having no consistent partner made it impossible to attend events outside one offs. And going to one off Futures events would put me at risk of decreasing my points. Ultimately, I had no intentions of playing a one off event and worlds with a partner only to continue with someone else. My hope was for something more that never came to be. So I was left in a position where my only hope to become eligible was to win a first round qualification game in Edmonton with another partner, or the berth to Worlds would be given to the next eligible team. I’ll come back to that later. 

Now here’s the thing. I understand there is a level of choice as an athlete within the beach volleyball system and I respect peoples decisions to choose who they want to play with. While it will always sting to be ‘broken up’ with, or not someones first choice in partnership I completely understand the decision that each individual must make. This sport can be ruthless in that way depending on what end you find yourself on in the partner shuffle and the impacts it has on the few teams competing at the highest level. But there is a morality piece to having difficult conversations and doing difficult things in person that is often missing. I was not granted a conversation in person from either party until 2 weeks after I found out via text message and email. I was gutted. Especially when during Punta Cana I could see their registration as a team for the next Challenge event - a forecasting of the events that have come to be.

I like to think that I am a really great teammate and a great leader. I think it is one of the reasons I have gotten this far. And not for the reasons you might think someone is a great teammate or leader. But because I will fight to the ends of the earth for you to receive justice, I will listen and advocate for those that don’t know how to advocate for themselves, and I will always try to take on all of the hard things because I know I am capable of handling it. I will care for you as a human being and want nothing but the best for each person I play with. Some of the hard truths I’ve had to deal with is that other athletes and teammates don’t operate this way.

And so for one month I did my best to show up every day. Keeping a small sliver of my dream alive. But it didn’t feel like anyone was really in my corner. We didn’t have a coach, rather someone to facilitate training. Training partners were difficult to come by for real game practice. No-one was advocating for my justice, and ultimately I was exhausted from trying to hide and cover up every day how I was really feeling. I didn’t really feel like myself. And in Edmonton those dreams slowly slipped away with a 2-0 loss. On the end of that a long hug and tears with my fiancé, my only support through the difficulty of every moment. The only one that got to see a small ounce of my struggle as I did my best every day to hide it from him so he could pursue his dreams without worrying about how mine were falling apart. I have felt utterly alone in managing this situation, and trying to find a new path forward.

Did I play amazing? Absolutely not. I don’t know how or why anyone would expect me to. If you’ve seen me play or train the last little while I have been a shell of myself. My counsellor explained it to me like this. That I have this wound and that I was continually bleeding out trying to cover things with a bandaid. Showing up every day looking and hoping for some help, or guidance or direction in how to heal but left to try and figure it out on my own. So everyday I would put on my 500 pound backpack and try to climb this mountain but I’m still bleeding out. How exhausting. 

From Edmonton onwards that partner began only advocating for herself in the world championship berth. Fighting for a singular role, when it was earned and lost as a team by decisions to pursue a different path. Pursuing those paths ultimately put our team and shot at Worlds in jeopardy. And earlier this week that berth to Worlds was granted to another Canadian team completely. As it should. While that decision hurts, I can see the justice and the purpose in that. But watching my name get wiped from the long list of registered teams for World Championships was not easy to come to terms with.

While I will never show it in public as crying in front of people is one of my least favourite things to do, the pain and hurt I have felt and the tears I have shed have been constant. I cannot show up to the beach without being triggered by certain sights, or sounds. I have simply been going through the motions trying to show up for my dreams with the feeling that not a single other person believes in them. Trying to prove to myself that I can be the bigger person, that I can do hard things, that I am worthy. Trying to push through and do what needs to be done. As an isolated event this wouldn’t have affected me as gravely, but like I said this isn’t an isolated event, it’s a hardship I’ve had to deal with on top of what feels like nothing but hardship. Seriously, the timeline of my beach career is somewhat comical for how many challenging things I’ve had to endure.

The emotional burden of what I carry is not necessarily for what I alone lost. I can find small comforts and solace in the fact that I earned my position to play at a world championship just like anyone else. That will still be a great memory for me in what I was able to accomplish. What I carry is the pain for all of the athletes that lost their coach while gaining a competitor, pain for the system that failed to protect the athletes from the fallout of that decision. Some decisions and actions have dire consequences - we are still dealing with those aftershocks. Pain for what feels like a failed dream, and the lack of supports in managing that. And deep pain for not being granted a conversation in person, however heavy, for the decisions that were made in real time. 

I carry the weight of what a represent in my community. It is not lost on me that I am a racialized body competing in a predominantly white sport. It is not lost on me that as I navigate my life I have to continually challenge the systems that were not made for me - for I am a Black woman. My peers likely don’t or can’t understand the adversity I have had to come just to get this far. I carry the weight of all the little girls who look like me that would take my silence as the only way to advance in sport or in life. And I carry the weight of all of the little girls that were told they were never good enough. For any and all of the advancements I have made setbacks like this often effect me to my core.

What’s the lesson in all of this? I don’t really have one for you. I think this post is more for me. To share my truth. To express my feelings. To get it all out there in the open. Maybe it’s a way of asking for help silently and sneakily because I know I’m not okay. I literally cannot talk about it in person without becoming emotional and breaking down. Don’t worry I have lots of people in my support system to help me through this. But odds are if you ask me in person how I’m doing I will likely give you some bullshit version of being okay when I know I’m not. And I know it’s okay not to be.

I don’t write this out of malice, or ill will toward anyone else. I understand and respect the decisions that people have to make for themselves. I write this pertaining to myself and my truth and even in writing this and sharing this my worry is that I will hurt someone else and that is least of my intentions. 

So I’ll leave you again with this quote.

“You are allowed to be upset when someone hurts you. You are not obligated to always be the bigger person and invalidate your own feelings. There is no need to immediately search for the lesson in the hurt, or instantly thank the ones who hurt you for gifting you resiliency. You are allowed to just feel betrayed and wounded. You don’t have to ingest the pain. You don’t have to let it simmer inside you, only to bubble up when you last expect it. The feelings of those who hurt you are not more important than your own. You don’t owe them forgiveness. You don’t owe them understanding. You owe yourself all of that. You owe yourself the freedom to honour your feelings, however heavy they may be”

I’m not sure where the next path leads. I’m allowed to be upset and I don’t thank the ones who have hurt me for gifting me resilience (though I know it will help me in the longterm). In the meantime I’m working on getting back to being myself and healing the wounds I have that run so deep. Working on healing the injuries you cannot see. Working to come back to myself and creating space to cultivate and nurture new goals and dreams. And I’m working on sharing the hard truths while digesting my own.