My Softball Days and The Challenge to be Authentic.
Also- a tribute to my dad who just turned 75, without whom I would not know how to hit the ball as well as I could and still can!
My right elbow is straight back behind my ears. My legs are about hip distance apart, knees bent. And I’m leaning on my right back leg. My left front leg is facing the pitcher and I’m sideways about bat length from the pyramid dust filled plate.
And I am sooooooo ready to smack that softball as soon as the timing is right!
Oh I feel so good! It’s like the one place where I feel as free as can be to as cocky and confident as I want to. I know I’m good—because the NY Post recorded my runs batted in the last highschool tournament game we played.
Block letters on the top of my navy blue and white jersey read “GOLDBERG” and the number “10” right underneath.
I hear the chant in the background—"go Clara, go Clara”…I hear the coach yelling: “wait for your pitch, wait for your pitch…”
My eyes are squinted in the sunlight which doesn’t matter because I have this sense about the right time to step out and swing.
And—the ball comes in a little high- I shift my arms up and the metal bat meets the soft but not really soft, softball. Whack! The ball goes sailing and my legs go sprinting to first base and then rounding to second base. My teammate ahead of me is sent home and the whole team jumps up and down.
And yes I’m smiling.
I’m smiling as my dad is teaching me how to hit the ball. I was about 7 or so. And he was standing just a few yards away with a medium size stick he had just picked up from the grass. His way of teaching me how to hit a ball was to start with something larger than the ball.
We would go to Prospect Park a few blocks away from where will lived in Brooklyn to practice among other things our hitting skills. My dad wanted to make sure that his kids were ready for the games.
So I’m smiling at my dad, because really it feels a little silly to be trying to hit a stick and then a rock and thennnn- yes we finally got to a regular ball to hit. My dad would get so excited as I and my brother graduated to the next thing he would throw at us. And when we got to the ball, yep—we could hit it. And then he was the one smiling.
So there I was about twice as old but not twice as tall, but still smiling…
Smiling with a sense of confidence added in, I have to say wasn’t a common thing outside of this sport I loved. Those junior highschool years playing softball were mixed with some really tough life events; as can be anyway for any 12 and 13 year old. Two of my grandparents died in 6 months of eachother, my parents were understandably struggling, and for some reason my friends or at least I thought they were decided to not be anymore.
I felt like an outsider in my home as my family grieved, and I felt like an outcast at school. But during softball practice and games, I belonged. And I didn’t just belong- like I got along with my teammates and me with them—but like we grooved together. We cheered eachother on whether we struck out or got a home run; whether we dropped the ball or made a double play. Softball felt like home base for me—pun intended.
In highschool, my team consisted of a mixture of girls from different grades, different academic levels, different ethnic backgrounds, and different personalities. We had girls that were prim and proper with their ponytails always perfect and jocks that seemed to wear dust as their make-up.
When I look back at this time, and really feel into the experience, it was really a unique time and opportunity to have this type of diversity mixed in with pure fun, skill, and joy! Everyone had their personality and celebrated it rather than mock it. We laughed together instead of at eachother. It was indeed a sport as we actually did care if we won—but quite honestly, looking back on it, we all were winners because we all showed up authentically.
And as adult, I know showing up authentically can feel like a sport because it can truly be hard to do in my everyday life. As we had practice, all those years ago, for those games we played and often won—I realize being authentic also takes practice.
—-
Indeed, besides those softball days being authentic hasn’t always been easy for me. Sure people have always known who Clara is. I don’t think I’ve ever been a fake or insincere person- wearing, doing, or saying something with one person and then being totally different with another person. But it meant that I would often only express my deepest thoughts and truths with someone if I knew that it would not upset them.
I was always unknowingly trying to keep the peace. It didn’t feel good when someone else around me was upset. And so if I thought that what I would say or do would upset the person I was with, then I would chose peace over being authentic, which often meant not speaking what my truth was.
The interesting thing with that subconscious choice was then that way of being evolved into a pattern of not speaking even what my needs were. And after years of not speaking my needs, I realized a part of me was shutting down.
It even got to a point when I didn’t even know what I wanted. I had unknowingly trained myself to focus so much on what others wanted, that I couldn’t even answer the question for myself: “Clara what do you want?” And then also the few times that I did state my needs and inner truths, and was met with resistance, my brain would say: “see I told you it’s just easier to do what the other person wants to do…” Because that resistance just didn’t feel right.
At those times, I didn’t have the experience or wisdom to trust that, that feeling of it just not “feeling right” would pass. I didn’t know that I could just breath through the discomfort. And I didn’t know that the discomfort and the resistance was PART of the process. I’ve learned that resistance and discomfort aren’t things to avoid, and are actually needed for change and growth and to acquire and develop a sense of well-being—a true sense of well- being, that ultimately comes from an inner knowing- an inner authenticity.
The thing is, we’re often not taught these subtle but often obvious, albeit challenging skills.
Adding to this often cloudy combination of inner dialogue and mixed emotions is what comes up during times of transition; knowing what feels authentic, in particular can get shifted. Sometimes the transition itself causes the shift maybe because there’s been a change in lifestyle and new boundaries need to be set. Or sometimes feeling as if we need to adjust to what does feel more authentic or aligned with our values, can itself cause a needed transition.
Either way shifting is happening…
Indeed, in my many life transitions, my sense of authenticity has changed over the years. My understanding of what it even means to be authentic has changed.
Does being authentic mean how well I fit in because it makes me feel connected? Does it mean how much I can be myself? Does it mean I agree with those surrounding me or does it mean I can tell anyone around me anything I want to? Does it mean I share all my thoughts no matter who I’m with?
In trying to answer these few questions I would say, being authentic has meant to me: working towards allowing myself to be seen, and then having the courage to speak my truth even if it feels hard. Being authentic has meant that I take growth and discomfort over what I feel “I’m supposed to do or say.” Being authentic means showing up for myself. Being authentic means expressing my boundaries even if it means upsetting someone.
And my newest understanding and definition of being authentic includes: having the discernment to trust my inner knowing of when to speak and how; knowing when to pause; knowing when to be present and just listen; knowing when to express an opinion or belief, or knowing when to just ask a question…
But also, being authentic means that sometimes the most important measure of authenticity is how truthful I am with myself. I know that expressing my truth outwardly isn’t always needed. I don’t have to prove that my point or opinion is correct; I don’t have to be the one that is outwardly “right” because I can feel that shift of “rightness” within myself- and I know that can’t be changed.
It’s something that has helped me navigate challenging conversations especially during a new transition. With practice I gaze inward for that measure of authenticity, rather than looking outward because so often those relationships and circumstances are in transition. And no matter what is shifting on the outside, I can feel stable on the inside.
In that sense, a knowing of grounded clarity has become my place from which I measure how I express my authenticity.
Some days are easier than others, maybe depending on the situation or the trust I feel for and with the people involved. But on those days when I’m with old friends, close family, or even new acquaintances, and there’s this tangible vibe of energetic connection—wow, it’s like I’m back with my softball team -mates filled with an adolescent carefree, but also a freedom filled sense of true self-expression that really feels like a win for me!