Thirty Yards Deep

My childhood was full of dysfunction and poverty and abuse. A lot more people can say that than we as a society would care to admit. Beneath this civilized façade is a nasty and brutish reality for many of us, and that shapes who we are.

When you grow up in a really screwed up environment, it effects your ability to trust, to feel safe, to be confident. It twists your concept of what you deserve. It colors the way you view the world.

I say all this to explain, not to excuse, who I am. I don’t think my past gives me a free pass. I just think it means I probably have to work a bit harder to get where I’m going. But I can still get there, and those achievements will be all the sweeter for having been hard-won.

I’m not into sports, but someone said something to me the other day that really struck a chord in me. She said:

“Given the fact that you started out 30 yards deep in your own end zone, it’s really impressive that you want to play the game at all, let alone have scored so many touchdowns.”

Yup. I think I’m willing to own that.


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