I'm no athlete. I'm uncoordinated, my reflexes are slow. And team sports, I'm certainly no champion player.

Regardless, I signed up to participate in a Sports League.  A friend encouraged me to sign up, as did my counsellor - it offers opportunities to meet new people and a chance to step outside of my comfort zone.

Each week, before the game, I am filled with dread and anxiety. Between my lack of confidence in my athletic skills and all the doubts of my old self trying to clamor and push their way back in, I struggle with the urge to stay home and hide.

Tonight was no exception. I was tested on so many fronts - physically, mentally, emotionally and socially.  As I laced up my shoes and faced the other team, I felt the anxiety within me crescendo, building momentum, drumming and pulsing louder and stronger.  I thought I was going to be sick. I felt like I was going to have a manic episode right on the volleyball court. I could feel my body begin to quiver, my hands ready to wring in the air, my heart beating, my breathing going erratic. My flight responses were cued and ready.

And then...I took a little moment. As my counsellor would say, "Slow down."

I acknowledged the anxiety.

I used my frenetic feelings and energies to my advantage by channeling it within me as needed - to my feet, my arms, my vision, my voice, my lungs. I became more focused and ironically, I also became aware of a different feeling - the sense of inhibition and freedom.  That simply acknowledgement enabled me to trigger a fight response, and for the critical mind to sit out this round on the bench and letting the body and instincts to take the lead to accomplish what needed to be accomplished.  This awareness to me symbolizes my transition from survivor mode to thriver mode. And this makes me all kinds of happy. I found myself fearlessly flying after the volleyball, I found my voice to call the ball or to ask for help and my body memory quickly came back with my old serving routine - bounce the ball three times, spin the ball in my palm three times, and then recalling my father's voice not to let my eyes leave the ball as my fist made contact for the serve.

As the cliche goes, it's easier said than done. A year ago, I would have been discouraged and frustrated with not comprehending how to process my feelings, how to overcome my anxieties, or how to move forward. With time and space, acceptance  is like a Zamboni - it clarifies and cleans the surface, making it safer and level for the self to come out and play. And once that happens, there is a greater purpose for one to jump onto the court and kick, catch, and throw your way through the process. It forces the body, mind and heart to work together as a team, to let go of what they can't control, and to trust and be in awe of the unknown.

I'm grateful I've chosen to fight my way though my anxieties because through each experience, I've gained so much more in fighting than if I had chosen to flee.