Monthly Archives: November 2010

Your Story: "Epiphany"

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Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. There’s so much to be thankful for. Remember to focus on what we have, rather than dwelling on what we don’t.

This next story is about the fight. Phil’s found his truth… his epiphany!

Email me Your Story at dgingo@cox.net.

“Epiphany”


Hi, my name is Phil. I’m a survivor!
I’m a survivor of hate and prejudice, of a society that believes beauty is skin deep, and a person’s self worth is based on their appearance.
I’m a survivor of an abusive father and two suicide attempts. But more importantly, I’m a survivor of my own doubts and fears.


You see, I’ve always been the largest child / adult in a group and I can’t really recall a time when I wasn’t.  The sad things is that over the years I’d convinced myself that I didn’t care about my size, and that I was happy and content with my life. I had tried in the past to lose weight, but whenever I’d failed (which I always did), I simply convinced myself that it didn’t really matter, and that I was happy with my size. I was only doing it to please my friends and family.


So what changed? 


Really, my story begins in the summer of 2008. I’d rejoined Weight Watchers and had been following the plan for several months.  I’d been quite successful and had lost just over 50 lbs in weight. However, by mid-January of 09′, I was feeling really depressed. Despite having some very close friends, I just felt so alone and unable to convey or communicate my feelings to anyone – so much so, that by mid March I was contemplating suicide. By the end of March, my feelings of self-loathing and hate for myself drove me to take an overdose Obviously, I failed. I also failed with my second attempt, which occurred in mid-April.  Despite these failures, my feelings hadn’t changed and I was determined to end my life. Through all this, I just wouldn’t talk to anyone.  At the end of April, I prepared for another attempt. No one at that time knew that I had attempted to kill myself, but my feelings of inadequacy and loathing continued to grow day by day.  I continued to become more distant from friends, and would deny anything was wrong when they approached me in concern. In my own head, I thought that they were just being kind to me out of pity. I wondered how anyone could like someone so disgustingly obese.  I was desperate and just wanted it to be over. 


So what changed?


Well, I saw a music video on YouTube.  Now it probably sounds silly that one song could have changed someone’s path so radically, especially one so self-destructive. Certainly it wasn’t the only thing that happened to divert my course, but it was the catalyst.  It was like a release. I watched the video almost hundreds of times, sobbing my heart out. I rang the Samaritans, and more importantly I told my friends. I confided in the people that I trusted the most and they gladly shared my burden.  On May 13th 2009, I walked into my Weight Watchers meeting, and for the first time got on the scales feeling that I was doing this for me. Win or lose, this was my journey, this was my climb, and my mountain to overcome.  The last 18 months haven’t always been a smooth ride. There have been trips and falls along with all the successes, but more importantly, the journeys continuing. I’m not perfect and I hope I never will be, but I definitely had an epiphany.  Self Worth comes from within not from other peoples opinions!! We’re all individual, unique and wonderful.


Oh and the song that changed it all for me  was “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus:
 “It’s not about the Destination, It’s about The Climb”




Phil
Phil-theincredibleshrinkingman.blogspot.com

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Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving… so much to be thankful for. It’s so easy to focus on what we don’t have; what we wish we had. Instead, make a daily habit of remembering how lucky we are. There’s always someone worse-off than us.
This next story is all about fighting and figuring out what “It’s” all about. Phil has discovered his truth… his epiphany. He continues to keep stepping, day after day, moment after moment.
Send me Your Story at dgingo@cox.net.

“Epiphany”
Hi, my name’s Phil and I’m a survivor!
I’m a survivor of hate and prejudice, of a society that believes beauty is skin deep, and that a person’s worth is based on their appearance.
I’m a survivor of an abusive father and two suicide attempts.  But more importantly I’m a survivor of my own doubts and fears.

You see, I’ve always been the largest child / adult in a group and I can’t recall a time when I wasn’t.  The sad things is that over the years, I’d convinced myself that I didn’t care about my size and that I was happy and content with my life. I had tried in the past to lose weight, but whenever I’d failed (which I always did), I simply convinced myself that it didn’t really matter – and that I was happy with my size, and was only doing it to please my friends and family.

So what changed? 

Really, my story begins in the summer of 2008. I rejoined Weight Watchers and had been following the plan for several months. I’d been quite successful, and had lost just over 50 lbs in weight however by mid-January of 09′, I was feeling really depressed.  Despite having some very close friends, I just felt so alone and unable to convey or communicate my feelings to anyone… so much so, that by mid March I was contemplating suicide. By the end of March, my feelings of self-loathing and hate for myself drove me to take an overdose. Obviously I failed. I also failed with my second attempt which occurred in mid-April. Despite these failures, my feelings hadn’t changed, and I was determined to end my life. Through all this, I just wouldn’t talk to anyone. 
At the end of April, I prepared for another attempt. No one at that time knew that I had attempted to kill myself, but my feelings of inadequacy and loathing continued to grow day by day. I continued to become more distant from friends, and would deny anything was wrong when they approached me in concern. In my own head, I thought that they were just being kind to me out of pity; I wondered how anyone could like someone so disgustingly obese.  I was desperate and just wanted it to be over. 

So what changed?

Well, I saw a music video on YouTube.  Now it probably sounds silly that one song could have changed someone’s path so radically, especially one so self-destructive. Certainly, it wasn’t the only thing that happened to divert my course, but it was the catalyst.  It was like a release – I watched the video, maybe a hundred of times, sobbing my heart out. I rang the Samaritans and more importantly I told my friends. I confided in the people that I trusted the most and they gladly shared my burden. On May 13th, 2009 I walked into my Weight Watchers meeting, and for the first time got on the scales feeling that I was doing this for me. Win or lose, this was my journey, this was my climb, and my mountain to overcome. 

The last 18 months haven’t always been a smooth ride. There have been trips and falls along with all the successes, but more importantly the journeys continuing. I’m not perfect, and I hope I never will be, but I definitely had an epiphany. Self Worth comes from within not from other’s opinions. We’re all individual, unique and wonderful.

Oh and the song that changed it all for me was “The Climb,” by Miley Cyrus:

“It’s not about the destination… it’s about the climb!”
-Phil

Your Story: "Epiphany"

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Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving… so much to be thankful for. It’s so easy to focus on what we don’t have; what we wish we had. Instead, make a daily habit of remembering how lucky we are. There’s always someone worse-off than us.


This next story is all about fighting and figuring out what “It’s” all about. Phil has discovered his truth… his epiphany. He continues to keep stepping, day after day, moment after moment.
Send me Your Story at dgingo@cox.net.

“Epiphany”

Hi, my name’s Phil and I’m a survivor!

I’m a survivor of hate and prejudice, of a society that believes beauty is skin deep, and that a person’s worth is based on their appearance.
I’m a survivor of an abusive father and two suicide attempts.  But more importantly I’m a survivor of my own doubts and fears.
You see, I’ve always been the largest child / adult in a group and I can’t recall a time when I wasn’t.  The sad things is that over the years, I’d convinced myself that I didn’t care about my size and that I was happy and content with my life. I had tried in the past to lose weight, but whenever I’d failed (which I always did), I simply convinced myself that it didn’t really matter – and that I was happy with my size, and was only doing it to please my friends and family.
So what changed? 
Really, my story begins in the summer of 2008. I rejoined Weight Watchers and had been following the plan for several months. I’d been quite successful, and had lost just over 50 lbs in weight however by mid-January of 09′, I was feeling really depressed.  Despite having some very close friends, I just felt so alone and unable to convey or communicate my feelings to anyone… so much so, that by mid March I was contemplating suicide. By the end of March, my feelings of self-loathing and hate for myself drove me to take an overdose. Obviously I failed. I also failed with my second attempt which occurred in mid-April. Despite these failures, my feelings hadn’t changed, and I was determined to end my life. Through all this, I just wouldn’t talk to anyone. 

At the end of April, I prepared for another attempt. No one at that time knew that I had attempted to kill myself, but my feelings of inadequacy and loathing continued to grow day by day. I continued to become more distant from friends, and would deny anything was wrong when they approached me in concern. In my own head, I thought that they were just being kind to me out of pity; I wondered how anyone could like someone so disgustingly obese.  I was desperate and just wanted it to be over. 
So what changed?
Well, I saw a music video on YouTube.  Now it probably sounds silly that one song could have changed someone’s path so radically, especially one so self-destructive. Certainly, it wasn’t the only thing that happened to divert my course, but it was the catalyst.  It was like a release – I watched the video, maybe a hundred of times, sobbing my heart out. I rang the Samaritans and more importantly I told my friends. I confided in the people that I trusted the most and they gladly shared my burden. On May 13th, 2009 I walked into my Weight Watchers meeting, and for the first time got on the scales feeling that I was doing this for me. Win or lose, this was my journey, this was my climb, and my mountain to overcome. 

The last 18 months haven’t always been a smooth ride. There have been trips and falls along with all the successes, but more importantly the journeys continuing. I’m not perfect, and I hope I never will be, but I definitely had an epiphany. Self Worth comes from within not from other’s opinions. We’re all individual, unique and wonderful.
Oh and the song that changed it all for me was “The Climb,” by Miley Cyrus:
“It’s not about the destination… it’s about the climb!”

-Phil

Your Story: "More Than Meets The Eye"

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This next story comes from a fighter who I know well. Not only is she an athletic fighter, but more importantly, she’s a life-fighter. She mentioned it a little bit in her story, but this young woman has conquered (and still conquering) some very difficult times. She was forced to grow up too quickly, which has made her look at life through cynical, yet “all-knowing” lenses. She’s had to portray such maturity and fearlessness in order to lead her younger brother and sister.

The day I met her, I knew she was special… I knew she had qualities most don’t… I knew she was hiding pain… I knew there was more than met the eye.

“More Than Meets The Eye”

For a week or so now, I’ve started my story at the very least ten times. I’ve tried the metaphorical approach and the direct approach. I’ve tried going from future to past and from past to future. I’ve tried leaving my life out of it. I’ve tried focusing just on tennis. As I deleted my last attempt, I wondered why it was so difficult for me to write about. I’ve finally decided to start with why it’s hard to talk about.

It’s tough to talk about because my life isn’t how it used to be. My past self and I are two different people. So different in fact, I have a hard time relating to her. Not even different in the I-changed-on-purpose-to-better-myself kind of way. I’m different in the sense that I had to change to survive.


Childhood wasn’t easy. I didn’t get to do a lot of things normal kids do. I seldom had play dates for starters—so I seldom had friends. I played a lot of tennis tournaments, so I was gone most weekends. But even then, I didn’t do well enough in the tournaments to make a group of “tennis friends.” I went to a private school from kindergarten to fourth grade before my parents finally pulled us out and sent us to public. Being overweight and middle class wasn’t easy in a kingdom of skinny rich kids. I was socially awkward, blind to any sense of fashion, and had no idea what I wanted. All I knew is that I was not happy about going out and practicing tennis everyday after school.


The night before my first day of junior high, my parents got in a fight, and we left our house to go stay with family friends. I remember grabbing my baby sister and brother, and hiding in the closet in the last room of the house. I remember the police officers looking for us, but we stayed where we were until discovered. I remember talking to them, and looking back, thinking this was the place in my life where I can point to that changed me forever! Not for the better, not for the worse… just changed.


From then on, my new purpose in life was to keep my brother and sister together. My focus was making sure they were okay, and got what they needed. At 13 years old, my job was to talk to the mediator, to work out a living plan that encompassed all of our extra-curricular activities. I cast tennis by the way side for a while to make sure we were okay, or at least to make sure we would be okay. It didn’t seem like a tough sacrifice at the time.


Eventually, high school came and I started messing around with tennis a bit more on my own. I played on the high school team, which helped me realize again how much I really did like tennis. For so long I thought it was something being forced on me, but I realized that I really did love it too. I did pretty well in high school, but more importantly I realized my passion for it. Well, maybe I had a little help from Dayne on sticking with it and striving towards a better attitude. To say I was a brat on the court is putting it nicely.


I’m proud of who I’ve become though. Tennis is an integral part of me. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I would be partially dead without it. I’m no longer a brat on the court (all the time anyways, I still have to physically bite my tongue sometimes). I’m playing for a Division I tennis team at UCSB, which I love—but it’s definitely a struggle. I’m independent, paying my own way through college and learning to ask for help when I need it most—which because of my independence growing up, and even still today, is the single hardest thing for me.


My story isn’t over yet. Life isn’t easy. I’m still basically a kid. I make more mistakes per week than I can count on two hands. Bills pile up faster then ants on sugar, and I will never be able to “master” my life or tennis. But I’ve learned that life will never be easy. Mistakes will never go away. If I’m lucky, I’ll still be partially a kid forever, and there will always be another bill. It’s not about making your life perfect or achieving every goal. It’s about fighting your ass off to be happy. It’s about making yourself the best person you can be. It’s about having a purpose, something that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning.


What makes you jump?
-Erica

That One Thing (Book addition)

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Ever been truly happy? Ever wake up in the morning and know exactly your purpose for living? If not, want to?

The answer is so simple, yet so difficult. In order to live how we truly want to live, assuming there weren’t any roadblocks, we must follow one simple rule. Before I give the rule, let me ask you a question: If it only takes one thing to live our lives to their fullest, why aren’t more of us achieving this? You’d think that we could all attain one simple thing per day, yet most of us fail miserably in this area.

One thing…

In order to maximize our happiness, we must live our passion! We must wake up every day, wanting to figure out how to achieve more than we did yesterday. Without passion, though, this is impossible. Yet, when we open our eyes in the morning, knowing what our calling is, jumping out of bed becomes routine. So, why are most of us stuck slapping the snooze button 3 times before we roll out of the sheets, and in the shower, eyes still shut?

Lack of passion!

I challenge the notion that we all had a moment in our lives that the “passion” I talk of was staring us in the face. I take the stance that most of us either ignored it, or walked around it, thinking it would be too tough to acquire.

“I’d love to do (X), except that would mean I’d have to sacrifice (X).”

“I wish I could do (X) everyday… how sweet life would be.”

“Too bad I didn’t pursue (X). My life would be completely different now if I did.”

Sound familiar? I was one of those people for nearly 30 years, until I finally started believing I deserved more… and could achieve anything I wanted. Before the achievement could happen, though, I first had to make a conscious decision to listen to those passions that talked to me daily. Instead of ignoring, or making excuses for why I couldn’t have more, I began listening and taking action towards a different lifestyle. 
The key to any change is that first conscious decision that states, “I will…” When we have “I will” as our mantra, everything we want will manifest. Without that conscious decision, we’ll always live in a state of “I hope.” Live hopelessly, please. 
Begin, today, searching for that passion that you’ll go to sleep and wake up thinking about. If you already know what that passion is, don’t settle for less. Live for it, love for it, reach for it, and act on it… every day! Get rid of the excuses holding you back. Reason why not are for the 99%. Your goal is to always strive for the 1%. Finding, grasping, and holding on to that passion is a vital piece of the equation. Make your every minute a search for that reason to live; the reason to be truly happy.

Your Story: "I Dare You!"

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This next story is soooo powerful! My jaw is still dropped, even after the 10th time reading it. It was sent to me anonymously in one long paragraph, as if he/she was venting without taking a breathe. I could feel the emotion and the pain it was born from… yet sense the power that’s taken over in the end. This is exactly why I wanted you to share Your Stories. You won’t be able to read it just once.



“I Dare You!”

While others shake in your presence, I rise up, and dare you to keep walking towards me. You have no power here; no sense of belonging. You’re not welcome, and never will be again. Yes, I said “again,” implying you once lived near by, but that was the past. 


Now is now!


You’re powerless and have no venom left to strike with. I see you trying to intimidate. I remember the signs. This time, I’m wiser, ready to punch back. If you raise your hand to me today, you’ll feel more pain than you can imagine. 


You see, I’m much different than I was in the past. I’m no longer weak and timid. I’m no longer sad and willing to be abused. I will no longer allow you to throw your hands, feet, or any other object in my direction. I’m unwilling to crawl in a corner and cower to your every bark.


You’re my bitch now!


No, I won’t touch you, like you did me. I’ll simply walk away, speechless, yet powerful. My silence is my weapon. You can’t make me scream anymore, as I now know this is when you smile. I dare you to try, though. I dare you to walk in my direction, look in my eyes, or speak my name. I dare you to even think about hurting me. A part of me wishes you’d become so bold again, as this would be the happiest day of my life. Please be bold. I dare you.


When you think of me, what do you see? Scared, right? That’s laughable now. Close your eyes and think again. This time, picture strength. Picture me kicking your ass, day after day. Go on, picture it. I dare you. 


See me waking up every morning, stretching my arms, and looking forward to the upcoming day. I’m not alone when I open my eyes, either. I have a beautiful ray of sunshine always waking me up, my dog Sammy licking my cheek, and I’m guaranteed to be accompanied by my new found power!


Walk this way again. Open your mouth again. Raise your hand again. I dare you! 


-Anonymous  

Hesitation Habit (Book addition)

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To hesitate 

1. To be reluctant or wait to act because of fear, indecision, or disinclination: 

2. To have scruples or doubts; be unwilling

3. To pause

These are all simple and correct, but I like my personal definition best: 

To hesitate:

To not act; stand still, while everyone else passes us by. To hope something better will come along, yet secretly wishing it doesn’t, because that would mean we’d have to act; to freeze in the face of adversity; reach our arms out, but not our hands; to fake left and right, making it seem as if we’re moving, when in actuality we’re still standing; to lose an opportunity of grabbing ahold of possibility.

To hesitate means to sit back and watch others act; witness the fearless attain what they desire. To hesitate is to equal failure… unfortunately that “failure” manifests itself slowly. To hesitate implies that we’re almost acting, almost ready to strike, which can give us a false sense of security. Very often, “almost taking action” feels the same as actually taking that action, yet has none of the same effects. 

Failure, in my opinion, can only happen when we do nothing; when we sit and watch others do what we wish we could (or would). Hesitation is the perfect piece to that failure equation, because it has the unique quality of making us feel as if we’re actually doing something while we do nothing. Think about it… what other action (or lack thereof, ironically) can make us feel worthy, confident, and productive during the moments of standstill? 

If we want to achieve, we must take the hesitation habit, and turn it on itself… make hesitation hesitate. When we begin to act while our instincts are screaming to hold still, we’ll instantly begin breaking the walls of hesitation to pieces. At first, this barrier will seem impossible to knock down, but after a short time, it’s base will become weaker, eventually giving in to the pressure. 

Let me ask you a few questions, as I believe all answers are found after a meaningful question is asked:

What can you do this minute to improve your business life? 
  • What areas are suffering do to your hesitation habit? 
  • Are you happy and satisfied with where you are, or could you somehow attain more, bigger, better? If yes, what must happen; what result must manifest?

What has to happen to reach that 1% in your athletic career?  
  • What do you look and feel like when you stop hesitating under pressure? 
  • When you visualize yourself taking positive action, rather than waiting, what do you see? 
  • What’s the ultimate outcome of destroying your hesitation habit?

What’s missing in your life that will allow you to lose that extra weight? 
  • When you take immediate action against hesitation, what’s the outcome?
  • When you glimpse at the “new you” staring back in the mirror, what do you see?
  • How does it feel when you visualize yourself conquering the hesitation habit?

To act:

1. To succeed!

Your Story: "When One Door Closes…"

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This next story comes from a gifted athlete, who once new she’d be playing high level collegiate soccer… or so she thought. The ups-and-downs she went through was obviously disappointing, but ironically resulted in helping her find her passion and career choice.

I’d love to hear Your Story, be it inspirational, painful, or something that forever changed you. Email it to dgingo@cox.net.


“When One Door Closes…”




My story starts when I was 5 years old and my parents signed me up for AYSO soccer. I was captivated by the sport, and by the time I was 9 years old, I knew I wanted to play in college. Before my freshman year in high school, I tried out for the better club team but didn’t make it. I worked hard for 6 months and then in January made the team. It was my first taste of what it takes to succeed at the highest level in soccer. From then on I made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t drink or do anything stupid outside of soccer and school. 
My sophomore year, we went 11-0 in Coast Soccer League Gold, which moved us to Premier (considered one of the best leagues in the US). We had a rough season but it is where I got more looks from college coaches. In my senior year, I looked at a few Division I schools but decided I wanted to go smaller, so I chose a small private school in my hometown. Since I knew where I was going, my senior year was set. My high school team had the best season they had ever had. We were unranked, but made it to the Division II CIF final, and tied the number 1 ranked team for a CO-Championship. We were queens of the school! In the back of my mind, I knew that I would have an amazing college career. I never suspected that I would not have a college career. 


Throughout my senior year, my left knee had been bugging me. They thought I might have sprained my MCL, or maybe had knee cap issues, etc. Nothing kept the pain away, so I just played through it. Finally in July before my freshman year of college, I decided to have a “clean-out” surgery, thinking that would fix it. It turns out this would be the beginning to the end of my soccer career. The doctor ended up doing a completely different surgery, telling me 6-8 weeks, when I found out later it should have been 6 months. I came back too early, tearing my meniscus in that time, requiring another surgery in Feb of 2007. I had NEVER been out of soccer for more than a couple weeks, if that. 
I now didn’t know what to do with myself. I was depressed, confused and unsure. I realized I had gotten all my self confidence from soccer and now had very little. After season (we had dry season), I started partying and drinking too much. I began to rely on my boyfriend at the time for WAY to much. When we broke up, I then turned to other guys for a solid two and a half years, whether I was dating someone or not. 


I came back for my sophomore year not in great shape, but wanting and ready to play. My knee was still a mess and it was a horrible season. I played better in the Spring, but had 2 serious ankle sprains that kept me out most of the spring. Little did I know that a friendly scrimmage, in which I had my second ankle fracture, would be my last one in my schools uniform. In my first summer practice back, I made a sharp cut and felt my knee give out. Pop! Left ACL gone. 
I had no clue what happened. I even tried to run and play on it a little. It wasn’t until the next day, when I saw the doctor that I heard the news. This created a whole new can of worms for my Junior year. I now knew I was out for the ENTIRE season. At this point, I had learned to handle things a little better than my freshman year. I had to raise my GPA, making this my main focus. I wasn’t allowed to go to practice or travel if my grades weren’t up to par. In hindsight, I’m SO very thankful for my coach doing this for me. I ended up with a 3.5 GPA for the second 2 years of college. At this point, I don’t regret going through this injury, as it forced me to grow up in areas that I had on not yet.


I was released on April Fools Day, ironically, about 9 months after surgery. I was stressed about having my appointment on that day, but was trying not to be superstitious. I was able to play and was so excited until May 18th, 2009. Yes, I remember every date that I had surgery or got injured. Just playing on the same field, in the same situation, a summer training day. I went to pass the ball, planted my left foot, and heard a pop and felt a slide. My knee gave out again! This time, way more painful than before. Not sure if it was more because I tore my meniscus too this time or if it was the fact that I knew exactly what had happened. I knew I had torn my ACL again. It honestly becomes this sixth sense… I instantly know when someone else goes down, if they’ve torn it. It becomes this weird club that you become apart of. It’s the understanding of what it takes to recover from the surgery. 

It took me a long time to cope with the fact that I only played in about 20 games my entire 4 years in college. I still think about it, but know that all things happen for a reason. The result of all my struggles is the fact that I found my passion. I want to guide other athletes going through similar situations, specifically helping them cope with injuries. I hope to provide inspiration and guidance to them… something I wish I would have had more of when I was in college. Since my knee surgery in June of 2009, I’e had ankle reconstructive surgery, as well as shoulder surgery. Both pre-exisitng injuries I chose to ignore for quite sometime but needed fixing.


I learned quite a bit in college, two things specifically. First, I wouldn’t have tried to pre-plan my life like I did. I had so much hope in the fact that I would have a successful college career, I unfortunately didn’t focus on anything else. If I had it to do all over again, I would’ve had a more well-rounded approach. Secondly, I found what I want to do for my career. I’m going into sports psychology and want to work with high school, college and professional athletes. I’m planning on getting my Masters in counseling, with emphasis in sports.  
As always, I will continue searching and acting on my passions! 


Your Story: "Proud Mama"

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This next story comes from a very proud mama. I met Kristin this summer before I started working with her son, Matthew. I was told by his swing coach that he was an amazing physical talent, but needed a little “mental tweaking.” I was shocked at how mature and mentally tough this young man already was at the early age of 18. After our first mental session, I was 100% convinced he’d be playing on the PGA Tour in the future.


Email me with Your Story: Dgingo@cox.net


“Proud Mama” 

I’m choosing to write about my son. I wanted to share his story “so far,” because it has been an incredible ride, watching this child grow into a young man in pursuit of his dreams. Perhaps he was destined to be in that 1%, I can’t say for sure. What I DO know is that his life has lead a very consistent and direct path from a very early age. So far, he has been achieving everything he has set out to do.


He found golf through my husband on the driving range, just banging balls… and he loved it. Next, he started going to a few junior camps, which immediately got him hooked.  By age 9, he started playing tournament golf. He wasn’t very good back then, but it didn’t stop him. I remember taking him to his second junior tournament at age 9 in the 9-11 year old division, thinking he was pretty decent. So I thought “what the heck – lets try another.” It was Cypress Ridge (MUCH harder golf course). I recall he shot about a 97 on 9 holes (not good). I was rather mortified for putting him in the field, but he didn’t get discouraged. In fact, on the way home he was very matter of fact about it, saying “boy I really need to get to work and practice more.” Right then, I started to see just how committed he was.


At age 10, after being drafted to majors for baseball, he told me that although he didn’t really enjoy playing baseball, he would finish out his commitment (which was thru age 12). He would then quit baseball for good, and focus only on golf and soccer, hoping to play golf in college. Being 10 at the time, I thought he was quite cute… yet, he was dead serious, and never wavered from that statement.  


So I became a “golf mom.” 
My job, I felt, was to do the best I could to provide him an environment where he could hone his golf game, and compete and grow into the player he wanted to become. I had no idea at that time what that would mean. It started off being pretty easy, just taking him to local junior tournaments in the summer. By age 11, he was starting to show that he was pretty decent, and by the recommendation of a friend, was directed to go out of the area to compete. He started off by doing some events in Northern California, which meant bigger fields, better players, and better competition. We always sought out a place where he would get beat, but not annihilated, in order to help him understand what he needed to do to get to that “next level.” This went on from about age 12 to 15, before things really changed. 
A good friend and mental trainer told us Matthew’s head was fine, but if he wanted to pursue college golf, was going to need serious help with his swing. Soon thereafter, we found swing coach, Don parsons… another big time and money commitment. It was about an hour and 40 minutes each way to reach Don, but it was the best thing we could’ve done. In 15 months, Matthew went from a “not very good player,” according to Don, to qualifying for the US Junior Amateur. His golf life changed forever the summer of 2007. He was being recruited by many Division I golf programs, was playing in big junior events, and doing very well. 

This son of mine has been able to accomplish so far more than I ever dared to dream possible. He has made it into 3 USGA events, got a hefty scholarship to UC Davis (where he’s in the starting 5), climbed up the men’s amateur rankings, and become a sponsored athlete by Nike. 
I honestly have to pinch myself, as it’s been amazing to watch. He was never pushed by his father or myself. He was always self driven. This kid would choose to practice on a Saturday in the rain, rather than play video games. This kid spent his summers traveling to compete, rather than lie on the beach with friends. This kid did fitness exercises alone in his room every night, in order to get stronger. This amazing kid!   


Am I proud of him? You bet.  Am I excited to see what is to come? Absolutely!!!  
Do I believe he is the 1% Dayne always refers to? Sure seems so!!! 

Thanks for letting me share my son’s story… future PGA tour player, Matt Hansen. 
-Kristin Hansen

Your Story: "Is Perception Reality?"

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This story is about hope. The words don’t say, “hope” but the message screams it. She was and is scared, searching and fighting a battle that many, many fight daily. She’s winning! This girl will always win, because that’s how she’s built. She, as we all do, grind and claw our way through personal barriers… but she routinely kicks those walls down with full force. 

As you read, don’t feel sad for her… feel happy; happy that she’s conquering her villains. Simply by emailing this story, she’s won. She’s looking in the mirror, being honest, and doing something about the challenges she sees. This type of honesty is what makes people like her special… and 1%!! 

“Is Perception Reality?”


Does anyone else find it odd how we go to school to learn information, and to sculpt our minds…yet very few people actually grasp that the difference between understanding information, and understanding how we perceive that information? Then, there’s the understanding of yourself, as well as all the thoughts which reside in your head? 

I hadn’t given this much thought until I started noticing my own perceptions of things and started listening to that little voice that most choose to ignore. This is where my largest obstacle lives: Within me, in my head – my mindset. 

I have been living, for as long as I can remember, very unhappy and unsatisfied with my body. I’ve held it all in, letting that little voice sabotage each thought and comment made about myself. This dissatisfaction, however, remained an uncomfortable topic for some years before I decided to “do something about it”.  My “doing something about it” started off as more exercise…then more exercise with more healthy foods. Doing small steps, I heard, was the only way to lose weight, or “get in shape” (as I would tell family and friends). A year past and I still was unhappy and getting more unhappy and desperate. I tried only eating healthy meals and increased exercise to everyday. However more and more quickly, I would get fed up with all this work I was doing, seeing no results, and quit.
It was a gradual change, starting sophomore year of high school, but slowly I began cutting things from my diet altogether. Starting with less obvious things like candy, chocolate, breads, and sugars. I began cutting more things with a caloric value of more than 90 in a single serving. All the while, I was being guided by my thoughts of how much better I could be if I were skinny. I began skipping meals, slowly… lying about how much I was eating. I got good at lying. The easier it became, the more I would not eat. 

Very end of junior year, and into senior year, I still hadn’t dropped much weight… which further heightened my desire to look like who I thought I was on the inside. I made a drastic decision: Each day, I wouldn’t eat more than 400 calories. If I ate more, it would be considered a binge and I would need to purge myself clean!

I became part of support website, where people would talk and encourage each other to succeed in their quest for a pure soul. I labeled myself as EDNOS (eating disorder not officially specified). I began to believe everything my head was telling me, and started to self-loath. I adopted sayings that would repeat over and over in my head: “Those who skip dinner end up thinner.” “Think thin.” “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” “A moment on the lips…forever on the hips”.  I started missing out on social occasions with friends because they involved food in some way. 

However, all this time my life was slowly spiraling into itself, I had lost a good amount of weight… yet friends and family said nothing! I would occasionally eat with them so they wouldn’t become suspicious, but no one became worried. I felt mixed feelings about fooling them. I felt a bit victorious because they hadn’t caught on yet, but at the same time, a deep depression, thinking they knew but just didn’t care. That launched a whole new motivational urge for me. If they didn’t care, then I didn’t care! I lived like this for a long while. 

In the middle of senior year, I started working out with a class of women. The instructor was highly qualified and also a working nutritionist. She had noticed how tired and unmotivated I was during class, and asked what I had eaten for dinner. I was caught off guard and said I had not eaten yet, but was eating after class. She believed me, but only that once. Each class from then on, she would ask me what I had to eat that day. After a few weeks she figured it out. I began working with her as my nutritionist, and she gave me a very strict workout and meal plan, guaranteeing I would see results after 3 months. I could soon stop punishing myself for failing. 

After a few weeks of eating relatively normally again, I instantly felt physically better. More alert, focused and had energy. However my mental side still hated me for eating so much. Still, I went through the three months and saw no change. I was very frustrated and fed up with everything. I gained back every ounce I had worked all those years to take off. I was sad, but I understood that I had to eat even though I didn’t want to. I strived to eat as healthy as I could. 

I decided that I was going to make a new plan: Eat enough to get me going, eat healthy, workout and smile. I am old enough to know better, but also too young to always care. I am 18 years old and a first year in college. As cliché as it might be for a teenage girl to go through this, I would recommend not brushing it off as a “phase”. It messes with my mind every day. I wake up to the mirror, I often face meals like they are the enemy, and I fall asleep feeling full. I had grown to love the feeling of emptiness, and the feeling of hunger. I now live relatively on my own and have to admit that I do occasionally slip up. I, once in awhile, will visit the old websites of “thinsperation”, or skip a meal here and there. But it’s a work in progress. 

I am still unsatisfied with my body, but I’m working at it! That’s all I can do, right? My mind is a different matter. I have to force myself to enjoy what I see in the mirror, or purposely tell myself I look good, but I’m doing it. I look back at two months ago and see a difference in my attitude towards myself. As long as I’m moving forward, it doesn’t matter how small my steps are… as long as their pointed in the right direction. 

~Anonymous college freshman