In a sporting context, coaches and players will hone in on momentum as the foundation of success; work hard, get the results, winning becomes a habit.
For me and the squad of players inside my head winning had become a habit with convincing victories day-to-day and some hard fought battles to win by the narrowest of margins. Wherever the opportunity presented itself, I won ugly if needed.
I climbed the table in my mind and just when it looked like the title was in sight, the unbeaten run came to an end, suffering a heavy defeat to my biggest rivals, that other team in my head.
How simple would it be if I was in fact just talking about football or GAA, but there’s a burden behind the analogy. I need to be meticulous in my efforts to mind myself and at the turn of the year, I felt that the commitment to personal betterment was beginning to come together after so many years. There was comfort, a level of emotional maturity I had never quite experienced before.
There was nothing ground-breaking with the trial, error and correction processes underlined to keep myself right. Writing, reading, time with my young family and some quiet time. All determined efforts to be a decent human being towards myself. I love running so I went running. I love many types of music so I listened to many types of music. I did more of what I love.
I felt good for a week, for a month then just feeling good seemed to becoming natural. These notions of purity supplemented growing contentment, carrying me forward. Life was good.
Then it came against the run of play. A late winner for the others and the unbeaten run came to an end.
There was an intensity to the dip in mood that was freightening. Perhaps elaborated peroids of happiness sensitised my reaction to an emotional set-back? I tried to stay focused; ‘stick to the plan’ I told myself. Keep writing. Keep running. Keep doing what needs to be done.
But it took hold, the squad of emotion wanted full control & sat defensively for 3 full weeks breaking my own resolve from mental to physical wellbeing. The badness crept in; old habits of self-loathing with internal insults playing ping-pong between my ears.
Old habits die hard and quickly I was resenting others I perceived as being “normal” which pushed the gates of self-pity wide open for me to walk through and ask: “why am I fucked in the head?”
The analysis was in full swing; what did I do right today? What could I have done better? How did it make me feel? The overbearing question being why is every trivial detail in my life subject to an abstract.
Going for a walk, buying a coffee, playing with my 2 year old son, it all sits under the umbrella of full scale dissection. It’s like Sky Sports Super Sunday punditry on loop in my head, with a presenter alongside three experts breaking down my performance from every angle with flashing lights and arrows. It’s exhausting.
When a team isn’t performing a defeat causes doubt to set in. A good coach will not panic under pressure. A good coach will not turn on his team and will continue to believe in them and back them all the say. He may change the approach, change the tactics and try something different but the message is one unity; stay strong and go again. Right now I need to be a good coach.
Mind yourselves.