As is so often the way in life... I spoke too soon...
Having had a warm and positive start to the footballing new year, things have now spiralled downwards.
I have lost any zen-like equilibrium I once possessed. I have, in fact, more than lost my equilibrium, I have tumbled, swirling and spinning, into the abyss. Any confidence I had that I knew what I was doing is shattered and if I feel anything about football it is that I am a failure. A charlatan who has no place coaching or managing a team.
For the past ten days, there hasn't been a single day when tears of despair and hopelessness haven't poured unbidden down my face.
I've thought, several times, about trying to put my feelings into words here, but I can't. I can't bring myself to write them down, to confront them, to open the floodgates to the tears that I may not be able to stop.
I've thought, several times, about walking away from coaching football, but I can't. I can't bring myself to abandon my boys and give up on something I want to achieve.
Is it really football, or have I simply burnt out at last?
Maybe it's football. Maybe it's life. Maybe it's me.
I want to be perfect, and I'm not.
I want to be proud of myself and I'm not.
I want to believe, deep inside myself, that I'm doing a good job, but I don't.
I want to stop constantly needing someone else to reassure me that I am good enough, and I don't know how.
Tomorrow I have an initial consultation with a therapist. There's no magic wand that will change how I feel about myself, but I have to start somewhere.
I feel faintly absurd to be seeking professional counselling to learn to cope with volunteering with an under-10 football team, but in truth, it goes far deeper than that. I suspect that football has simply ripped off the sticking plaster I'd slapped over the open wound of anxiety, depression and low self-esteem that has been festering for many years.
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