If you missed last week's post, Once a Phoenix, take two quick minutes and read it.
This post is the conclusion to that story.
***
I was recently watching a show on Netflix called Sprint.
It's a docuseries that follows the journeys of certain Olympic-level sprinters.
What struck me most when I watched the show, is just how much losing hurt some of these athletes.
You may think that's the most obvious thing the world.
When you're competing at that level, winning is everything and losing sucks.
There's an important difference between losing and thinking of yourself as a loser.
***
I ended Once a Phoenix with a question:
What happens when the thing we build our identity around, suddenly gets taken away?
Let's explore this a little bit further.
As a starting point, let's ask, what is it precisely that you have built your identity around?
The more precise the answer, the better.
In my story, my precise answer would have been, "A basketball player for our school."
I built my identity around being a basketball player for our school.
Now let's ask, how fragile is that? In other words, how much of that can you really control?
In my case, I played on a school basketball team. That required me becoming a part of the team, which I could only influence, not fully control.
It also required me having the physical ability to play the game. Any dramatic injury could have changed that. Can I control my physical ability fully? Perhaps, but accidents happen.
Assuming your answer to the fragility/control question is one where you expose some fragility and some lack of control—like I did with my answer—let's ask one final question.
How might you reframe what you build your identity around, such that it becomes resilient (may bend but not break) and wholly in your control?
To answer this in my story, we need to go back to my coach's words, "Once a Phoenix, always a Phoenix."
***
When I initially associated my identity with being a Phoenix, it was specifically about being a basketball player on my school's basketball team.
In other words, my identity was built around what I did.
I was a basketball player on the school team. I played basketball. That's what I did.
I have since realized that forming your identity over what you do, can be shaky ground.
There may be things outside of your control that end up preventing you from doing what you once did.
A different path, is to build your identity around who you are.
The only person who can determine that, is you.
If you choose to change who you are, that's on you.
***
I am no longer a basketball player.
I am—and have always been—a team player. That is who I am.
I just happened to play basketball for a period of my life—that is what I did.
"Once a Phoenix, always a Phoenix." That was never about what you do. It was always about who you are.
***
Who are you?
