stubborn

As a kid, I was stubborn. Once, during a soccer game, my coach took me out for making a mistake. He said, “Tell me what mistake you made, and I’ll put you back in the game.”

I stood there silent, too proud to admit what I had done wrong.

Even Caroline urged me to just tell him so I could play, but I pursed my lips and stared out at the game.

My stubborn temper was a full body emotion. Stuck. Quiet. Inward spiral. I knew what I needed to do — what I wanted to do! — but it physically felt difficult. Sometimes I still find myself on that sideline: proud and stubborn, hoping something will change instead of doing what I can to make it better.

Instead of accepting it with grace.
Instead of just saying it.

You’re right. I made a mistake.
You’re right. I could be trying harder. Thank you for caring enough to tell me.