(Or, shall I say, football)
It was but only two months ago that I wrote my parents saying,
“Standing here right now I wish for one thing: that I could go back and relive all of these soccer moments over again.”
People think it’s because you were my life but my life was full of many other joys.
It was because you were my love. The number of practices I wished I did not have to attend can be counted on one hand. The times that I told myself I didn’t want to go out to train are in the negatives. The mind, body, and soul I was given could never stop yearning for more of you with each new day. I lived for you in your entirety, it is what drove me and I can honestly say I adored all of you.
I never wished for a sub, that’s not how I was bred. I didn’t know how to cut myself short or work past my physical capabilities. And I could never approach a game with dread.
But this devotion was poisoned for me. You were poisoned for me.
My injuries seeped into you, rotting you from the inside out. Even though I knew I had been hurt, I blamed you for what followed. I cursed you robbing me of myself, for this went far beyond the field. That’s not to say I didn’t still love you, it’s just to say that you had been corrupted for me. I was taken to a place where your very name pressed into me like dull pins, applying pressure that could only be given an explosive response.
I was stripped down and forced to focus on survival, dragging myself through each day.
Shortly after my official release I wrote myself a letter, knowing that even with this divide I would long to return to you someday and would need a reminder of the pain you once caused.
Part of my letter read, “Remember what it felt like wake up on empty? Every Monday you told yourself you just had to survive until the weekend. Every weekend you begged for another retreat, a way to refill. Your ears rang in the emptiness, reminding you in the silence that you couldn’t run away. Music was piercing, lights were burning, and your senses constantly ached from the things you once enjoyed. Your heart broke. And eventually your world grew dark and heavy. Your smile was pained, your love replaced, and your world made into a never ending revolving door circling fatigue and exhaustion. You turned to your sheets, which seemed to be one of the only comforts that promised you safe keeping. And you wished there was a way to dig out the needles in your brain.”
And this is how I left you.
It’s been nearly 70 days since I have truly revisited any part of you.
As I stepped into the old Victorian Fullham stadium I was consumed by the jerseys, bets, hackling, and cheers. But I was not overwhelmed. No, I was at home. I hadn’t realized that since I signed off I had yet to encounter you. I was blind to the fact that I had removed you, thinking that somehow that would make things easier. It was as if my only choice was to completely abandon you. In my mind that was the only route to healing.
But sitting back at the top of the stadium, surrounded by loyal season ticket holders, I watched crisp passes coast along the blades of grass and was touched by your new presence in my life.
You whispered to me, ever so softly, the love we still share.
Though I am unable to play in the physical manner as I once did, our love affair has not died. I was completely content, rather complete actually, sitting there, once again fully enthralled by the things that were previously twisted with disease. I could feel the emotion, passion, sweat, connection, and touch and I knew it all. I was a player again.
I experienced this one-on-one, without distraction and without well-known company, as my friends were set to come after their classes finished.
I felt tears coming on as I sat there, looked out over the field and took to the game like a local- banging my fan-like noise maker for encouragement. I was smiling loudly, ear to ear, with a consuming sense of belonging. I had forgotten how much I loved the game, not to mention how much I loved the authentic football experience that was at hand.
I could not be more thankful for this time alone with you.
I now know that what I once experienced was not caused by you, but by another demon who unfortunately chose you as its route.
It’s crazy to think that I can now look back in a nostalgic way, returning to the strong emotion and sense of understanding we have always shared. I am still healing, in ways difficult to understand and for things that need no explanation at this time. But these wounds were not caused by you.
Thank you for grabbing hold of me with both arms, wrapping me in a jersey, and mending my misunderstandings.
Your Valentine,
Riley Makenna
Compass 
These words bring up so many emotions for me Riley! I cried when I read this….it’s almost too much. I LOVE YOU
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Oh Riley…my heart hurt for you reading this. But, there was a happy ending. You’re experiencing so much on your own and I’m so greatful for that. Love you! And, I absolutely am dying that you went to Nottinghill and saw that bookstore and everything. Love your pictures! Thanks for sharing.
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