The First Wound, Inflicted

That year had been rough, both wrestling and life. On the mat I was cutting a lot of weight, working out before school, at practice, and at home after practice, all on minimal food and water. Outside of wrestling I was dealing with other things. I had been struggling with depression for several months, and I'd randomly go through periods of really intense sadness and apathy, all of which was compounded by the limited food I was consuming. On top of all of this, there was a girl. I won't say she broke my heart, but I had thought things were going somewhere, and it was the first time I had put myself out there only to have her changer her mind and go after someone else.

In spite of all of this, I was doing well wrestling. I placed in the first tournament of the season, had a winning record, and was competing with and beating guys who were solid wrestlers. As the season progressed I continued to improve, and just a few weeks before the post season began I was wrestling better than I ever had before. We had just finished a tournament, and thought I hadn't placed, I had wrestled well. I left practice Monday night about 20 pounds over weight, that wasn't uncommon due to the low body fat I had, and even though it was going to be a rough couple days I was feeling great, really satisfied with how I was wrestling, and really confident in myself heading into the post season.

I had just started my evening workout, three hours on a treadmill in multiple layers to sweet off weight, and I got a phone call from my coach. He told me that I was going to be wrestling off for my spot the next day. I remember just shutting down at that point, just in shock because of the news I had been given; wrestle offs don't happen that late in the season. I felt betrayed; my coach had invested so much in me, had challenged and pushed me so much, I felt we had a good relationship and that he really cared, but this made me question all of that.

I got off the treadmill, took off all my layers and went to bed. I walked through the next day in a funk, and went to practice where I lost the wrestle off and my varsity spot. I left the room, called my dad, then went back in, got my stuff, and left practice.

I wasn't sure what to do at that point. I was angry, I had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, and felt that I had been unfairly treated. I was sad, I was so close to my goal, and all of that I had worked for had been taken away. Someone I had trusted, who I thought had my best interest at heart, someone who I thought would help me get where I wanted to go, had dealt me a wound that would impact my life for years to come.

This wasn't the first wound I had ever received, but it was a defining one for years to come...

TO GOD ALONE BE THE GLORY!