Facing Fears

Fear can be crippling, fear of failure particularly so. But sometimes we have to fail in order to learn and only by facing those fears can we grow stronger.

My worst nightmare was coming home empty handed from the Gold Coast Commonwealth Games in 2018. More than once during the months leading up to it, that prospect had me waking in a cold sweat. One time I even woke up screaming. No word of a lie. It terrified me that much.

Why? Because my entire self-worth was tied to my achievements. If I came home with nothing, I would be worthless. Cast aside for younger, more successful athletes. One of whom was likely to be my sister. I would simply become another has-been. Worse. Another never-was.

I had three chances at medaling. The first was a long shot and I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from completely screwing up and failing to even qualify for the final with a score that was more than 10 points below what I was capable of. My second event was my best chance. I was defending European Champion. I’d won the Commonwealth Championships on that same range six months earlier.

But years of living in the pressure cooker caught up with me that day.

I crumbled.

Looking back on it, it was probably the worst performance of my ten year career… and I had some proper howlers in that time. Even on those really bad days, I’ve always been able to take something positive away. One small thing I did well, or at least something I could improve on in future. That day, all I succeeded in doing was breaking myself.

After I’d finished, I walked out of the range heading for the toilets where I could at least cry in peace. I barely made it two steps before my legs gave out. A panic attack followed a few seconds later.

I don’t really remember what happened after that. There was a long-distance phone call to my husband. He ended up getting in touch directly with the sport psych with us at the time, because I just couldn’t function. But when the psych did finally find me, they’d brought a friend.

Susan was my Mum’s pairs partner at the Commonwealth Games in 1998 where they won bronze, and she’d gone on to win silver in Manchester 2002 and gold in Melbourne 2006, when my Dad was the coach. She was a hugely influential person in my life as I was growing up. Someone I’d always looked up to. Admired. She was also a Team Scotland director. And here she was sitting in the dirt with me, holding me tight while I cried.

The psych had to go - they had other athletes competing that day - but they left me in good hands. Once I’d finally stopped crying, she told me to get up off my arse and go watch my sister’s medal ceremony. Because she knew I’d regret it if I missed it. It was painful, watching my baby sister succeed where I had failed. But it was the right thing to do, and I hated myself a little less for having the courage to face it.

Susan stayed with me for hours after that. Talked at me until eventually I started talking back. Kept me talking until I was calm enough to form coherent sentences. I don’t even remember what we talked about. But I’ve never been more grateful for someone in all my life. Later, she took me back to the village in the fancy VIP transport she could access as a Team Scotland director. Her parting words to me as I was getting out the car was to simply enjoy my last event. To give my all. To fight to the last shot. To walk away with my head held high. But most importantly, to enjoy it.

I did as I was told. My qualification match was good, considering the state I’d been in 12hrs earlier. The final was a disaster, but I gave it everything. And in the end that is all we can ever ask of ourselves.

And why am I telling you any of this?

Because I lived through my worst nightmare. More than that, I actually look back at Gold Coast 2018 with fondness. Even with those 24hrs of hell, I enjoyed it more than any other major multi-sport event I’ve ever attended. I had fun. I made friends. I felt like I was part of something. And I did all of that without winning a single thing. Medals are nice to have, but they’re no replacement for the important things in life. But it was only by failing that I was able to understand that. I endured the worst possible outcome I could have imagined, but I came out better for it.

Stronger.

Happier.

Yes, I went home empty handed. But to a husband who loves me. To a dog who was so delighted to see me that he fell over and nearly wet himself. To a life full of possibilities, because I no longer fear failure. I failed, in a way I’d dreaded for months, yet here I was. Here I am. Still standing.