My mother has been a high school cheerleading coach for as long as I can remember. She coached many successful teams throughout my childhood, and when I reached high school, I finally got to be a part of a success story. Throughout my high school career, our cheerleading program brought home countless trophies. First place, grand champions, spirit awards, even an International Championship; you name it, we won it. Any former student athlete can give you a long list of the things that their coaches taught them, and I am no exception. I could go on and on about all the things that were driven into my head by my mother, self-proclaimed “cheer nazi”, Coach Bobbie. Stay sharp and watch your wrists. Point your toes and stick the landing. Like I said, the list goes on and on. At the top of that very long list sits one skill that has come to be more important than my mother could have ever possibly imagined. Mental Toughness. Somewhere in the depths of my messy and over-cluttered closet is a black shirt with three words in plain white writing: “Got mental toughness?”
Mental toughness began as a way to push through the fatigue of a long practice or workout. It’s fairly similar to all the cliché phrases we are so used to hearing. “You can do anything you put your mind to,” or, “Mind over matter,” and even, “The only thing holding you back is yourself.” Mental toughness became an idea that our team rallied around, something that pulled our sweaty bodies up off of the refreshingly cool gym floor when we felt we had used every last bit of energy we had, and it even led us to the aforementioned International Championship. I graduated high school in 2010 and leaving behind the family I had found in my teammates — my Ohana — created a sense of loss that to this day I haven’t quite found a way to fill.
Today I am almost 24 years old and at a place in my life that, quite honestly, I never thought I’d be, and I don’t necessarily mean that in a good way. When I left home, I went from being a big fish in a very little pond to what felt like a tadpole dropped in the middle of the Pacific. Since then, I lost my way and fell down in the dirt more times than I’d care to discuss. I dug myself plenty of holes, some of which I’m still trying to work my way out of. But if I care to compliment myself on one redeeming quality it is this: I am resilient as hell. Every time I lost my way, I’d just go a different direction, bruised and beaten. Those holes I dug may have been deep, but I keep refilling them. This is mental toughness.
When I was 14 years old, one of my best friends died suddenly in a car accident. Continuing to live life and progress through different milestones without her is mental toughness. Dealing with the pain of losing a friend and not being allowed to properly grieve and cope is mental toughness. Once I got older, pulling myself out of a severely depressed and anxious state took more mental toughness than I even knew I had. Going back to school after I had dropped out the first time, then again the second time, then one more time took mental toughness. Pushing myself to succeed through the mountains of self-doubt and anxiety? That is mental toughness.
Mental toughness is saying that it’s okay to mess up and fall down. It’s okay to feel lost, stuck, or to not know where you’re going. Mental toughness is the ability to continue to carry on, slowly but surely, when it feels like your world has crumbled. It’s the strength to feel your pain, sorrow, and anxiety, and to keep pushing through, no matter how hard it gets. It’s that voice in the back of your mind that quietly says, “Keep going.” When every last bit of energy has been drained and you’re lying on the metaphorical gym floor of life, mental toughness is what peels you off the ground, kicks your butt, and gets you going again.
What started out as a motivational phrase for a high school cheerleading team has become my way of life and survival. I am standing here today, three months away from graduating from The Ohio State University because of that phrase. I am thankful for my coach who taught me these lessons, thankful that as my mother she was able to continue the teaching at home, and thankful for my Ohana who surrounded me with others that shared these values. I am mentally tough and I could not be more grateful.
Now it’s time to ask yourself -- got mental toughness?
