In high school, I never resorted to drinking because it seemed like there was already an abundance of that around me. I hated the smell and effects it had on those closest around me. Those formative years were an education in walking on eggshells and suppressing my emotions as a means of maintaining control in the midst of the turbulence that occasionally surrounded me. It wasn't all bad, but when it wasn't bad, I got scared. Pretending became my shield, helping me navigate the challenges concealed beneath the veneer of a seemingly perfect family exterior. I fortified myself by digging in, clamping down on my emotions, and holding onto anger. In many ways, anger became my primary motivation - a driving force to prove that I could overcome obstacles and remain emotionally unscathed. Sports became my outlet, a means to channel that intensity into something constructive.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to actually, i CAN to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.