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finish strong

Exhausted and gasping for air with my hands at my hips and my legs wobbling beneath my thin frame, I hear my father scream from across the field, “finish strong!”  Seconds later I begin fighting the battle in my mind.  My body is screaming at me to surrender.  I can’t possibly go another 50 yards.  But his words are actively seeking one last desperate attempt to keep me in motion.  They reach down further within me and touch a part of me that is more powerful than my mind, than fear, than “quit”.  They find my heart.  And my head rises.  I straighten my back and my shoulders.  Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I take a deep breath.  And I repeat those words back to myself.  I look to my right, and then to my left.  I see my teammates, and they too are shaken.  In this moment, there is great opportunity.  Set an example.  Dig deeper, push harder…run this last sprint for pride.  Run it to win…not just today, but for every day that follows.

Through my relationship with my father and athletics, I’ve learned many valuable lessons over the years that I will undoubtedly carry with me for the rest of my life.  Perhaps none was better than to “finish strong”.  I remember those evenings at football practice as a youth, and the cool, early summer nights when we’d flip on the porch light to create enough visibility to throw the last 25 pitches.  Those nights are what have made sports so special to me.  It wasn’t the game that was going to define me…it was the heart that it took to play with resolve, and a purpose.  It was finding the strength not to quit when you were tired.  It was discovering resiliency and focus in the face of adversity.  Heart separates the men from the boys and it affords you the opportunity to be stronger in the 4^th quarter than you were when you first took the field.  It carries a weak mind and a failing body.  Heart inspires people.

There is no better way to display heart than by leaving it on the field and to, in the words of my father, “finish strong”.  Let’s take a minute to dissect these words of encouragement and look into the meaning of them a bit.  First let’s examine “finish”.  Finish means “to arrive at or attain the end of”.  In the case of that last 50 yard sprint, finishing meant closing the door on yet another day of practice.  But used in a broader context, the word carries far more weight.  It means “don’t quit”. Finish implies that you’ve started something and that you need to see it through to the end.  It means allowing for nothing to discourage or impede your efforts.  Finish does not apply only in calm waters.  To finish we are expected to encounter struggle…we’re expected to hang our head momentarily as we gasp for air.  We’re expected to doubt our mind and body’s ability to carry us to the end.  And then, we’re meant to call on our heart.  The heart won’t let us down…it will see us through.  We will finish this race and will find a desire to run again soon.

Now let’s take a look at the word “strong”.  Everyone has a different definition of what this means to them personally.  Strong can be used to describe physical prowess or sound health.  It can characterize a force of will or a great ability/achievement.  But there are two definitions of strong that I relate these motivational words to the most.  The first is “not easily defeated” and the second is “having force of conviction or feeling; uncompromising”.  To me, strong cannot be simply a state of physical health or ability.  Strong is far more complex than that.  In fact, I believe that it’s truly in our weakest moments that we uncover our greatest strength.  It suggests seeking desperately to find a means to fight when every ounce of our being is asking us to resign…to just throw in the towel.  Strong is relentless.  It means doing things with a purpose, with guts, even in times of despair.  Strong doesn’t necessarily imply being the best, or winning…instead, it means finding personal satisfaction with the effort put forth.  Strength is in all of us, we just need to dig deep to find it.

So how was it that my father intended to reach me with those words?  He didn’t use them to simply inspire the last sprint of that evening’s practice.  No, I know that man well and I understand today that there was far more to it than that.  He meant it on far deeper level.  He was preparing me for the cutthroat world that stood before me during that time of innocence as a child.  Because life was going to be more than just a sprint, it was going to entail a long race of endurance with twists, turns, and obstacles eagerly waiting to disrupt my run and impede my finish.  My father was speaking to the core of my being.  He was reaching for my heart and encouraging me to stand tall, broaden my shoulders, face the adversity, and keep moving forward with conviction.  He was telling me to finish the fight.  To run the course that God had laid out for me, to find my greatest strength in my darkest moments, and to end the race with more passion and heart than I had started it.  He was asking me to do everything with a purpose.  He was inviting me to live.

So I dove in head first without hesitation or fear of what I might encounter along my journey.  And my race has been one that has required incredible resolve.  There were times when the terrain appeared completely downhill and my pace advanced so effortlessly that progress felt inevitable.  But then there were also moments of intense adversity, unforeseen difficulty and hardship.  Many days the climb seemed never ending.  My pace would slow to a crawl, and I’d find myself hanging my head in despair.  And then I’d hear that voice in my head saying “finish strong” and I’d be reminded of the way that I overcame adversity that evening with my toes on the goal line, getting ready for that last sprint of the evening’s practice.  And I’d reach deep inside of my heart and find the strength to keep moving forward.  This is where you separate the men from the boys.  Finish the race set out for you.  Don’t quit.  Find your passion and your purpose.  Live.

I can’t even begin to describe to you just how many times I’ve used those words to motivate myself and persevere through the most challenging moments in my life.  And today, the words “finish strong” carry more weight than ever.  Because I’ve lived 29 years, and I think I finally have a full understanding of how to best apply them to my future.  I want to live life with passion and with heart.  I want to embrace my greatest strengths which arrived in moments where I found myself at my weakest physically and mentally, yet somehow found the courage to keep moving forward.  I want to use those strengths and my resilient heart to inspire others.  I want to grow stronger with age and experience, and leave this world a better place than I entered it.  And I want to finish this race that is life with conviction and purpose.  I want to endure and overcome.  It’s time to “finish strong”.

in a dark room alone

One absolute certainty that I’ve learned in my 29 years is that life is going to come at you hard, and that you’re going to get knocked down.  Chances are that you’ve already discovered this for yourself at one time or another.  Adversity will hit you square between the eyes.  You’ll be left feeling stunned and searching for answers, too shaken to reason how you will piece yourself back together.  Your mind and body will respond naturally as they’ve been trained – fight or flee?  After quickly analyzing the severity of the situation, you will make the decision to do what you feel is best in that moment.  Perhaps you will find the strength inside to hold your ground and sort through what’s in front of you.  But what if you can’t?  What if you’ve found the adversity that you are facing to be so debilitating that it’s driven you to your breaking point?  Your only reasonable thought is to run.  Escape the situation until you can regain your composure.  Take refuge somewhere secure and safe.  Where is it that you go when things fall apart?

Everyone’s answer to this question is likely to be somewhat unique. But no matter how it’s individually defined, “home” is likely to be a popular response.  There is something about heading back to that place of innocence that holds us in tact during our most troubled times.  Perhaps it’s the familiarity of the surroundings, our parents, a sibling, or even an aging pet that we consider our dearest friend.  But I believe that it’s more than that.  When we go “home”, we find comfort there because it’s a place where our trust is absolutely unwavering.  We believe wholeheartedly in its power.  In most cases, it’s become our ultimate symbol of sustainability.  In all likelihood, things were never perfect at “home”.  But it still remains our rock of solidarity.  Through the fondest and even most painful experiences, it has persevered.  Quite possibly, it’s the place that held our hand as we took our first step and also the cushion that softened the blow during our first collapse.  We’ve witnessed its strength.  At “home”, we’ve seen ourselves grow, and we’ve felt ourselves heal.  Inside those walls we’ve let go of that hand with trust.  We’ve learned to stand and walk on our own.  And we’ve picked ourselves back up and fought again without hesitancy, knowing that if we fell again that there would be someone waiting to break our fall.

In January of 2003 when I abandoned my life in California stricken with intense anxiety and panic, I found my comfort by returning “home”.  During that period of my life, my move back to Pennsylvania provided me with a lot of strength.  I had myself convinced by the following summer that it had nearly healed me altogether, but as I would find out in the years that followed, “home” had only cushioned the blow.  “Home” helped me to survive that troubling time and it supported me mercifully as I found the strength to walk again, but it didn’t solve the underlying problem.  Even as I reunited with independence and moved forward with my life, there was something very limiting holding me back beneath the surface.

Blame is an extremely powerful emotion.  Sadly, it’s how most of us choose to deal with ourselves when life seems to deal us a bad hand.  We look outside instead of directing our focus inward.  It’s our nature to want to find answers that justify our hurt and our anger.  It can’t be us…something else is causing the problem.  For me, during that time of my life it was California that was the problem.  I lived in one of the most beautiful parts of the country, and I had previously fallen completely in love with it.  But once my anxiety presented itself, I started turning what I felt inside outward against my surroundings.  I cursed sunny days and prayed for rain.  I resented the warm weather and the lack of seasons.  Who cared about the beach anyway?  And what was with all of these people?  This place was too far from my roots…it was too far from “home” and I felt isolated.  California became my scapegoat.

The scapegoat was one of the essential elements that would hold me back with my healing for the next 9 years of my life.  I was just perpetuating an awful cycle of failure and blame, and I was headed nowhere beyond right back to my starting point.  Because I’ve learned that until you look inside of yourself and make peace with what you find, you can never truly move forward.  Sure, you may be able to keep yourself afloat by shifting blame over and over again.  You may even be able to sustain your entire life making that practice habitual.  But that’s not going to lead you to greener pastures.  If you are constantly practicing blame, then gratitude has eluded you, and you can’t truly be happy.  Resentful, yes…happy, no.  The answers are within you, but how do you uncover them?

When I began writing my blog this past summer, I found myself in the midst of the most painful time of my life, and I was left completely vulnerable.  I really had no idea what I was doing, but God had powerfully made himself known to me and had directed me with a bit of inspiration to take full responsibility for myself, and I felt compelled to listen.  And so began the process of self-realization, forgiveness, and healing.  I would like to stress the importance of the word “began”.  Because even though I was continually gaining more clarity, this was just setting the wheels in motion for a more dramatic transformation that was eventually going to take place.  This was the starting line.

Most of you who have followed my blog from the beginning are probably under the impression that things turned around for me quickly as I unveiled my story.  This wasn’t the case, however.  In fact, reliving those memories and coming to grips with my involvement in the negative twists and turns of my life was a horribly painful thing for me.  But it’s what had to be done.  Often I would find myself sitting at the computer, eyes filled with tears and anxiety causing my hands to tremble uncontrollably as I documented the events of my past.  And I’d just tell myself “this chapter will be closed soon” with the hope that I would feel tremendous relief in only a couple of hours when I completed the entry.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case; usually I was only left with more anxiety.  I would often feel short of breath for the rest of the night, as if someone was standing directly on top of my chest and on my throat.  I would shake and panic, and would routinely find myself running for herbal supplements to calm myself.  Nocturnal panic attacks would continue to wake me throughout the night and make sleep a terrifying experience.  Sounds like a horrific way to live, and it was, believe me.  But this was also a beautiful time.  This is where the magic began to happen.

When things fell apart, there was a big part of me that wanted to flee my situation…to run back “home” and heal.  I was living alone and had very little face to face interaction with anyone throughout my day because I was working from a remote office.  I had my family about 30 minutes away, but I really only saw them once every week or two, and often only for a few minutes at a time.  So the empty, lonesome walls surrounding me…they’re what I had.  And I was a grown man, and I didn’t want to forfeit my life.  I was not going to abandon my independence and my career.  I had to make myself comfortable with the situation, because even if I left momentarily, I knew that ultimately I would need to return to it to continue on.  And I was learning that a quick fix wasn’t the answer any longer for me.  I had to get to the heart of the problem.  Myself.  And I could only find those answers in one place…a dark room alone.

In the weeks and even months that followed, I did a lot of trial and error testing on solutions for my issues.  What I didn’t understand at the time was that despite my best efforts to heal from within, I was still frequently making desperate attempts to seek answers outside of myself.  For instance, I began experimenting with different natural supplements to alleviate my anxiety and panic.  One supplement in particular, I took for several months at extremely high doses.  It helped to alleviate some of the effects of my disorder, but it complicated other parts of my life.  It slowed my thinking and made me feel more tired and depressed, and even seemed to “dull” the responses of my nervous system.  In addition, I followed a website that predicted mood behavior based upon the phases of the moon, and it all became a self-fulfilling prophecy for me.  I experimented with Melatonin supplementation, which led to disastrous results only weeks later.  And I studied self-help material religiously for quite some time; this was probably one of the few positive things that I offered myself.

There were nights that my efforts seemed to benefit me, and I’d think to myself “wow, this has to be it, this is the answer.”  And then morning would arrive, and I’d wake feeling worse than I had in weeks.  It was such a deflating experience.  I was running out of tricks to tame this beast.  I was losing hope.  That dark room that I found myself alone in each night was scaring me to death.  I was fearful of myself and of my mind because it was racing out of control in search of new solutions.  I couldn’t turn it off.  I’d put on my headphones with a self-help audiobook and do my best to try to relax and drift off to sleep.  Or I’d turn on the TV to keep myself company and serve as a temporary distraction until my eyes would grow heavy.  Those nights were tough.  I dreaded them.

Around Thanksgiving, I found what I would now consider to be my real rock bottom.  The week before the holiday I had been feeling as though I was coming down with something physically, perhaps a recurring sinus infection presenting itself once again that had been plaguing me since May.  I spent Sunday the 20^th working for about 15 hours straight in Excel spreadsheets and in our estimating software doing my best to meet a Monday morning pricing deadline for an international prospect.  I stayed up until about 3 AM, and submitted the quotes just minutes before they were due in the United Kingdom.  I was exhausted, and I knew very well what the stress of that day was doing to me.  I heard a voice in my head at about 10 PM say “just stop, it’s not worth it, submit what you have complete and get some rest”.  But I couldn’t quit.  I was hitting a wall, but I somehow convinced myself to push through it, and remarkably, I did.  Two days later, it grounded me.

My anxiety had once again become a complete mess, and now I was also sick physically.  My natural response remained what it always had been, to seek a solution.  So I ran to Rite Aid for a couple of homeopathic cures to aid my sinus infection, and in turn, only made it worse.  I was in terrible shape.  I missed Thanksgiving with my family, and I spent the day in bed with really only fruit to eat because my fridge was empty and there was no place nearby open.  It was miserable.  I never felt more alone.  I sat and cried as I watched the football games.  What had my life come to?

A day or two passed, and I remained feeling much the same as I had on Thanksgiving Day.  Depression was now settling in around me.  But something had to be done.  Or this could be it for me.  And then magically, the answers that I had been so desperately seeking in that dark room alone suddenly came to me.  I felt the power of it as it rushed into my soul.  It lifted me to my feet.  I went to my office, grabbed my laptop, opened up a new Word document and typed the words “Let Go, Trust, Believe, Faith”.  I printed it out and taped it to my refrigerator.  Then I took a picture of it and made it the desktop image on my phone.  Immediately I began to feel some new life in my aching bones.

It was at that very moment that everything became so incredibly clear to me.  I had been practicing my faith actively every day.  I was doing my daily devotions, reading scripture, practicing prayer, asking for forgiveness, and doing my best to take responsibility for myself and be a better person moving forward.  But in that dark room alone, I wasn’t fully trusting in God’s ability and willingness to heal me in His time.  I was continually attempting to construct my own solutions, and it was pulling me away from my faith.  Fear was winning the battle.  It was time to “let go” and trust wholeheartedly that God would restore me in time.  I had nothing else to lose; I had exhausted every other option.  I dropped to my knees and asked God to show his mercy on me and told him that I would make every effort to trust His plan moving forward.  And I could feel the weight being lifted from my shoulders.

I made the decision that day to stop looking outside of myself and my faith for answers.  I slowly worked my way off the heavy dosage of the supplement that I had been taking regularly and by January 1^st, I cut it out of my life altogether.  In addition, I haven’t utilized any other calming supplements in about a month and a half.  My mind is beginning to feel sharper, and I’m gaining confidence in myself every day.  I’m not free of anxiety and panic, but I’m handling it differently, and it’s working.  When I become overwhelmed, I talk to God and he eases my mind because I trust Him.  If panic strikes in the middle of the night while I am sleeping, I allow my heart to race and I pray.  Minutes later, I am back fast asleep.  And those attacks rarely even choose present themselves anymore.

In that dark room alone, I now fear nothing at all.  In fact, I enjoy my time there.  I use it to be in solitude with my thoughts, because since my mind has calmed, I’ve been able to embrace them again.  I often will put on some music and just think.  I’ll seek inspiration for a new blog, or just contemplate my life and my dreams.  My unwavering trust is now in my “home” with the Lord…the place where I will continue to seek refuge when adversity strikes in my life.  I’ve witnessed His power, and I believe in His ability to heal a broken mind, body, and spirit.  I know that He will never abandon me, so no matter where I am, I am never without a “home”.  Thanks to Him, I now see a future beyond these days.  Thanks to the peace and comfort provided by answers found in a dark room alone…with God.

why I will never give up on love

Love.  We all desire for it in our lives.  It presents itself to us beautifully in a multitude of ways, as unique and diverse in fashion as we are created as individuals.  Perhaps it’s felt through a relationship with a best friend or even a pet.  Maybe it’s through a sports team or an idol that we’ve embraced as our own.  Or it could be through our faith and our relationship with God or our family.  But to most of us, love is most ideally thought of as the romance and the companionship of our soul mate.  It’s the truth that we feel as we gaze into our partner’s eyes, and the comfort that makes all of our worries disappear instantly.  It’s the gentle touch of a hand that provides security and lifts us to our feet when we fall.  It’s bigger than money or earthly things.  It’s two imperfect beings uniting as one to form a bond that is, in each others’ eyes, absolute perfection.  Love is God’s gift to us.

Unfortunately, love doesn’t always come easy.  Lots of sacrifices are made on its behalf, and our heartfelt investment does not come with an insurance policy.  It sure would be nice if it did, wouldn’t it? “OK, and sign on the line here stating that IF things should fall apart and your heart be broken you will have the opportunity to rewind time, avoid that pitfall, and start brand new with a partner of equal or greater value that will be provided to you.”  That sounds like a plan that we could all make affordable, right?

But love doesn’t work that way.  Because love mirrors faith, and faith requires trust in a power that is greater than us.  If you attempted to carry an insurance policy with you into a relationship, you would never find love.  No, you’re going to need to let go.  Love requires vulnerability.  You may not want to hear that, because if you’re like the majority of us, chances are that you’ve been burned once or twice before when you’ve allowed your heart to open up.  Perhaps your experience has left you guarded or downright terrified of ever giving love an opportunity in your life again.  Fear is a powerful thing; I know that far better than most.  It can be absolutely paralyzing, and one bad experience with a shattered heart can leave us determined to forfeit and abandon all new opportunities to embrace happiness and life’s greatest gift.

I’m a man that’s dealt actively with anxiety and panic disorder along with OCD for the past 10 years of my life.  I’ve experienced nearly every fear imaginable.  If there was a disease spoken about publicly, chances are that at some point in my life, I’ve convinced myself that I’ve had it.  I’ve been afraid to drive my car, walk to the mailbox, and even drag myself out of bed certain days with apprehension of the shakiness that I might feel in my body as I get up to walk.  I’ve abandoned outings with my friends as well as family get-togethers…I’ve even spent Thanksgiving alone as a result of fear.  I’ve found myself hopeless and on my knees with tears in my eyes praying to God to have mercy on me, time after time.  And I’ve faced bouts with agoraphobia stemming from truly a fear of, well, myself.  In my lowest points, I lost trust in my ability to function normally in the world I knew.  I became fearful that I would just break down one day and lose it all together.  I envisioned the worst, and I kept myself completely guarded from nearly everything around me.  I wanted to curl up in a ball and disengage from life.

But even with crippling fears presenting themselves to me at different points in my life, the one thing that I never gave up on was love.  Hard to imagine that even being possible considering some of the striking blows and heartache that I faced in my past, but it’s most certainly the truth.  Sure, I would hurt for awhile, but I never found myself discouraged or fearful of opening up my heart again.  Perhaps (along with my faith) my willing acceptance of that vulnerability has served as a buoy in my life.

If you believe in love and trust in God, you always have hope.  Because love can warm your heart.  It can pour into a failing body and breathe new air into its lungs.  Love can provide life to aching bones.  It can have an immediate impact on your mind and your overall well being.  You can experiment with every medicine a doctor can prescribe or even try your own natural remedies, but nothing will serve as a more powerful elixir than love.  And it can be taken at any dosage…a little spoonful of love might do the trick for some, but others may desire a heavier, more regular regimen.  There is no such thing as too much.  A heart full of love promotes a body graced with health and a life filled with prosperity.

I’ve never personally been able to get enough of it in my life.  You could hook me up to an IV of the “love elixir” and I’d probably still find myself desperately wanting more.  I’m sure that there are quite a few people who know me that would say that I’m crazy for that.  “After all that you’ve been through with relationships and heartache, why?”  The simple answer is, because I believe.  I believe in its power.  I know how a small spark can ignite a fire within that has the ability to illuminate the world.  I’ve felt firsthand how it can heal a wounded heart, an anxious mind, and a failing body.  And so love, or the idea of love, keeps me alive.  And I can’t wait until the day that it presents itself in my life again.

I know that it will arrive soon, and I will welcome it with open arms.  I will not fear but instead I will embrace.  Because on that day, I will know beyond a doubt that I have advanced to the peak of my recovery and transformation.  For the gift that I will receive will come from no other than the man upstairs as a celebration of all that’s taken place during the past year of my life.  And I will know that I have arrived.  Love will be my happy ending.