Sonya Elliott

Back on the Court

AUTHOR & BASKETBALL FANATIC

Monday’s Pen to Paper: Reminders of this Precious Life

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I love fall. The crisp air, the change in the color of the trees, the different angle of light that is cast by the sun in the cloudless sky. The urge to hunker in a bit, to drink more tea, to connect with myself again after the frenzy of summer. These are just a few of the things that I love, yet fall is one of the most difficult times of the year for me, which honestly, kind of pisses me off.

I can be out walking my dogs and breathing in the cool air, minding my own business, and be brought to tears. It has been many years since I lost a loved one in the fall, but as you may know, there is always a place deep inside one’s heart where there is sadness, along with the happy memories, when someone you love dies. A scar. A wound that heals over time and allows you continue living, but a scar nonetheless.

So every once in a while, sadness will sneak up on you. You might have to bite your lip when you hear a certain song or smell a certain smell. I often feel a tightness in my chest when I smell fresh-cut grass. And there is just something about the fall air that gets me. That beautiful clean crisp air is the same air I breathed the day I lost my fiancé. The same day that I thought my life was over.

But my life wasn’t over and I learned that it was okay to allow myself to feel the pain and use that ache in my heart as a reminder of how precious life is. It is the fall, and the conflict it brings within my heart, that continues to remind me to be grateful for my life and to keep on living the best life that I can live.

What are you grateful for today?

WRITING PROMPT #1: What brings you to tears? What are you grateful for today?

WRITING PROMPT #2: Jessica closed her eyes, breathed deeply and…

 

 

Monday’s Pen to Paper: Change Is Life

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There have been a lot of changes going on in my life, and though basketball and writing are still priorities for me, it’s been, and will continue to be, a challenge to settle into a new path.

Last spring I left my position as head basketball coach at the high school in my neighborhood and started closing out my PeaceLoveBasketball business because I was ready for a change. I decided to focus on my writing and put energy back into modeling (and catch up on projects that I had let go over the last 5 years). Then summer hit and so did even more change. The usual sports camps and family vacations took place of course, but then my daughter had heart surgery, our dog had two surgeries, and I lost my grandmother just as my daughter was headed off to college.

A lot of change.

Fortunately, I have learned over the years that change is a part of life. And what I experienced this summer is not much different than most people experience throughout their lives. Loss is a part of life, leaving jobs, sending a child off to college. You follow a path, make a plan, but it often gets uprooted. This might make you cry, or laugh, or feel lost for a while, but there is also hope and better times. Change is life.

Yes, I’ve felt lost and sad at times, but I’ve also had some of the best times with my family and friends this summer. So I continue to remind myself to enjoy life and do the things I love and to believe that change will keep me moving forward and help me to find my way.

Remind yourself to search for the good in change.

 

WRITING PROMPT #1: Write about changes in your life…

WRITING PROMPT #2: Beverly put her head on her desk and cried…

 

PeaceLoveBasketball Friday: Dig Deep

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Recently our point guard went down with an ACL injury. A complete tear. As her coach, it’s a bummer of course, but she will be dealing with it every day for the next six to nine months. That SUCKS…and that’s putting it mildly.

I think of our point guard every day, throughout the day, because I know what it’s like to deal with injuries. On the court I’ve dealt with sprained ankles, broken fingers and other sports injuries. And I’ve returned from a bad femur break and arm & shoulder injury after a car accident (more about my recovery in this Eastern Magazine article Peace, Love, Basketball by Kandi Carper), so I know that surgery and physical rehabilitation are difficult, but it’s the mental recovery that’s the toughest.

Athletes want to play. Our point guard wants to play. She wants to feel and be a part of her team. And though she is still very important, I know it doesn’t feel the same when you’re not on the court. And when the season is over, she will miss the team camaraderie when she will need it most.

Fortunately this year our team is very connected, and I know they will reach out to their downed teammate after our final game, but it will not be the same. So that is when that injured player; our point guard, your friend, your husband, maybe you, need to dig deep and do what must be done to get better. Because life must go on and it’s a hell of a lot more fun when you’re healthy. And when you’re healthy it’s a lot easier to be happy.

Be strong and always believe in you!

 

PeaceLoveBasketball Friday: Ice Cold Awarness

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My son took part in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge with his friends this week. He showed me his video and I asked what it was for. He said that he wasn’t sure. And then he remembered,  “it’s for…ALS?”

I asked him if he knew what ALS was.

“A disease, right?” he answered.

This is what the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is about. To raise money and raise awareness. And though there are probably a lot of people who may not even understand why they are dumping buckets of ice water over their heads, obviously there are millions more that do (or don’t, but donate money) because over 41 million dollars has been raised so far, and there are many that have a conversation.

“Do you remember Gary?” I asked my son.

My son was young when a member of our extended family died of ALS. The disease Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, often referred to as “Lou Gehrig’s Disease,” is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord until muscle tissues all over the body atrophy, which leads to paralysis and death.

“Oh yeah, I remember.” he said,  “He used his toes to answer yes or no when we talked to him.”

Yes. And that was the beginning of a discussion about a disease that affects so many people and their loved ones. (30,000 Americans) So hats off to the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge and the awareness (and money) that it has raised.

What a COOL way to bring awareness and funding to a devastating disease.

Take the challenge and pass it on…I did.

Monday’s Pen to Paper: Remember

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Sometimes it’s hard to think of my brother as an Army Airborne Ranger, I only saw him in uniform once. I was in college and he was stationed in Italy. It was during a time of peace. (I was glad.)  Years later he left the Army due to injury and returned to the United States. For me it was like he’d never been gone, but not for him, because soon after his return, my brother began losing friends and soldiers in Operation Desert Storm.

Take a moment today to remember and honor the men and women that died serving our country, as well as those who continue to keep our country safe.

WRITING PROMPT: Write about someone you know that served or is serving in the Armed Forces.

Monday’s Pen to Paper : A Perfect Place

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My Monday’s Pen to Paper, became Tuesday’s Pen to Paper, but I still have writing inspiration from that day, Memorial Day. It just so happened that my son had a basketball tournament in Everett. Someone I love is buried there. I dropped my son off early to warm up for his game and then drove the 6 blocks to the cemetery. It had been a while. My heart ached. I felt a little lost. The rhododendrons had grown. I walked up to the grave, took in a deep breath and listened to the memories swimming in my head. All around me there were American flags pushed into the ground. I thought of all those lost in battle, those still battling. There was a different intensity, sadness and also pride for those who had given their lives for our country. I brought my attention back home and took a seat in the grass. “This would be the perfect place to write.” I thought. And I would have, had I not had a basketball game to hustle back to.

Find a cemetery near you, and with your journal in hand, breathe in the energy around you and write.

Letting go of fear

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There is something frightening about putting myself out there as a writer. I’ve published a book and a magazine article, attended many classes and conferences, spent hours writing, but I don’t always think of myself as a writer, promote myself as a writer. Why is that?

Maybe it’s because the event that jump-started my writing, and my first book, Back on the Court, took the life of someone I love. I wrote my memoir to share my journey of grief and recovery and during that process I fell in love with the written word. But finding success in the wake of such tragedy is bitter sweet.

As a college athlete I pushed my body and mind to the limits in practice so that by the time I hit the court I had no fear. I was nervous and excited, but not afraid. Once again, I am taking from my experience as an athlete. I am practicing writing, letting go of the fear and continuing to share my story.

Coming soon…my new Back on the Court book trailer.

 

 

 

Gotta love Pi.

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It’s Pi day today. All you mathletes know what I’m talking about.

March 14th – 3.14 (I would put the mathematical symbol right here if I knew how to write it with my computer)

So what’s that mean to you and me?

Well, for me it means getting circular candies for my son’s math class, and if I were a really hip mom, it would mean baking a pie, which I am not going to do. (Though I might have to go buy one now, just for fun.) But also for me, it reminds me of a time, a long time ago, when I was learning about love.

“Love is not like pie,” the couselor had said. “The more you love, the more love you have to give.” I was dealing with grief. I was learning that even though I loved someone with all my heart, someone that was now gone, I still had love to give. A wise lesson, one that helped me move forward in my life, to be open to love and happiness.

Who would have thought a math symbol, would help remind me of the power of love.

Mt Si: A Moving Meditation

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My plan was to make a quick ascent of Mt Si, get in a good workout and enjoy the view. The perfect beginning for my birthday getaway. But as I made my way up the steep Mt. Si hillside, my mind was spinning. There was guilt for taking two days for myself and leaving my family. It was spirit week at my daughter’s school and I was missing doing her 80’s day make up, there was the fence to be fixed at the rental house, dogs to be fed, watered & walked, forms to be typed up for coaching, laundry, the list was endless. With each step, I remembered one more responsibility, one more reason I shouldn’t be there on the trail. But as I continued upward and the journey became more difficult (it’s a 4 mile hike up to a 4167 ft elevation) my mind tired of the babble in my brain and opened to the quiet rhythm. Step. Step. Breathe. Step. Step. Breathe. Step. Step. Breathe. Soon I found a calmness in my heart and in my mind.

The trail was empty and with the silence, and a still mind, came a slow release of tears. The fall season is my favorite time of the year, though now, with fall comes sorrow. It is the time of year that I lost my fiancé over 20 years ago. There is a dull ache in my gut mixed with the joy I feel when the crisp air pushes out the summer heat. On my birthday, two days earlier, I had attended the last OV invite, the memorial golf tournament that raised scholarship money in the name of my fiancé. My birthday, like the fall season, was bitter sweet, but on this day, with the help of movement and nature, I was able to clear my mind, find peace and conquer the mountain ready for a new day.

What are some ways that you find peace in your life?

 

FRIENDSHIP II – 4am & still smiling

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“It is the friends you can call up at 4 a.m. that matter.”

-Marlene Dietrich


This quote reminds me of my friend Kirsten. The excerpts to follow are from my memoir BACK ON THE COURT. Both take place after I was in an accident, where I was badly injured and lost my fiancé. Both involve Kirsten, who somehow manages to always keep me smiling.


…When I pull back the cardboard flaps of the package that has just been delivered to the front door, all I can see are empty candy wrappers. That’s my Kirsten. I dig deeper; some of the wrappers have candy still intact. I pop a Hershey kiss in my mouth. As the chocolate melts, I scavenge through the wrappers and find, a book of word search puzzles, a hand painted journal, a plastic toy that looks like it came from McDonalds and the book Curious George Goes to the Hospital. I leaf through the book with what might be my first real smile since the accident.

***

…It’s 11:30 pm when I get home. Before I crawl under my covers, I check my machine and there are several messages, one is from Kirsten. After turning over in bed for two hours, I pick up the phone and dial. It’s 4:30 a.m. in New York, but then, Kirsten is used to my untimely calls.

“Hi, Kirsten,” I say, now on the couch slowly rolling my head, and phone, side to side.

“Hey Sōn, how are ya?”

“I’m alright,” I say, finishing with my neck and finding a comfortable spot on the couch, “but my neck is killing me, I can’t sleep.”

“Really,” Kirsten says, not bothering to hold back a tired yawn.

“Yeah, I’m so sick of it. One stupid doctor tried to put me on antidepressants. I was so pissed. If I need antidepressants, it’s not for my neck.” I pull a yellow throw from off the back of the couch and lay it across Brianna and my chest. “I hate some doctors. Thank god I like Dr. Perry, my orthopedic surgeon, because my surgery to take the rod out of my leg is coming up on April 12.”

There’s another lengthy yawn from the other end of the line.

“I’m not that boring,” I say, smiling to myself, “oh, and guess what?”

“You scheduled a boob job at the same time?” Kirsten jabs.

I shake my head and laugh. I’m glad I called Kirsten, even if she isn’t. Kirsten cheers me up. My “guess what?” question for Kirsten was concerning my new boyfriend Jason. He wasn’t coming to Spokane for my surgery and though I told him I didn’t care, I really want him there. I have begun to count on him more and more and it scares me. What would happen if I lost him too? I don’t think I could handle more pain. Kirsten helps me forget about the “what if’s” and, without knowing, helps me appreciate the “now.”

Special Delivery

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I should be jumping for joy. I’ve got copies of my book on their way, but there’s a heaviness in my soul. It’s not surprising if I think about it, my mixed feelings. I’m happy that I’ve finally reached the goal of sharing my story of recovery, but with it comes a reminder of the loss. My memoir came with a reminder of Mark, a man that will be forever loved and missed. And a reminder for me to take the time to remember those I have lost and appreciate those that are a part of my life. A perfect Special Delivery.

Believe in Your Dreams

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Never give up. I’ve used this philosophy on the court and in life for a lot of years. When I told my husband I was going to write a book, he said, “What do you mean, you don’t write?” He was right, but I knew after Mark died, after I struggled to go on living and to find happiness again, after that journey, I knew I would share my experience in a book. It wasn’t easy. I spent nearly ten years writing my memoir, taking writing classes, going to workshops and putting pen to paper, and then came the hard part, getting published.

Fifteen years into this writing journey, my kids have moved through preschool, elementary school, middle school and as of last week one is now in high school. My hair has grayed (though you can’t usually tell because it’s highlighted blonde) and my Bampa, my grandpa and a huge inspiration to my writing life, has passed on. Much time has gone by, but I never gave up, and on October 16th my memoir Back on the Court will be released.

Do you have a dream that seems beyond your reach? A goal too lofty? Nonsense, if there is something you strive to achieve, believe in your heart that you will do it, and never give up!

Human Nature Connection

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Recently I shot with photographer Tim McGuire for his Human Nature Connection project. We had planned on shooting for a couple hours on Tiger Mountain and ended up hiking and shooting there and then driving over to Little Mt Si for several more hours. An amazing day.

I was drawn to Tim’s project because, as much as I enjoy my time in the gym, nature has often been my savior in life, giving me a chance to sweat, breath and open my mind. I feel at peace there and seek it out it times of stress. I’ve included an except from my book BACK ON THE COURT about one of those times. To see more of Tim’s Human Nature photos go to Tim McGuire Images.

excerpt from BACK ON THE COURT…

I can feel the tension that’s been building over the past months escape with every mile and every tear. The tears are all but gone by the time I reach the lodge at Paradise and when I see that the snow pack is low enough for me to reach with a short hike, I gather myself, and head up the mountain. There is something in nature that for me helps relieve tension, and at the same time helps me feel closer to Mark. My dad has climbed Mt. Rainer many times and grew up near the Austrian Alps. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the mountains, to nature. It’s in my blood. The love of nature, of fresh air and pine trees, is a part of who I am.

I head up the nearest trail. The hike is steep, hard for me to maneuver with my injured leg. I like it. When I reach the snow there are two young snowboarders practicing jumps. They have hiked up with their boards and built themselves a ramp. I make a miniature snowman out of snowballs, take a self-portrait with the timer on my camera, and then find a dry rock where I can watch the snowboarders from a distance. I think of Mark. He has been gone, dead, for two whole years. It has been two years since I held his face in my hands and kissed his lips. Two years since we held one another tight and made love. The what-ifs, are unthinkable.

Swallowing hard, I lower my face to my knees and cry. When I look up the snowboarders have gone and I am alone on the mountain. The tears have washed through the depths of my soul and I sit in silence as the sun moves low in the sky. When I begin my slow descent down the trail, I am at peace.

Basketball helped rekindle her life

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Spokesman Review “THEN and NOW” article


BASKETBALL HELPED REKINDLE HER LIFE 
by 
Dave Trimmer 
Sonya Elliott was flying home from a modeling assignment in Hawaii last month, husband and two children waiting for her at home in Seattle. 
Staring into the darkness from her window seat, many thoughts crossed her mind. 
“I remember thinking how thankful I am, from where I cam from,” she said choking up at the thought.
She wasn’t reflecting on her All-Greater Spokane League basketball career at University, her four seasons at Eastern Washington University, highlighted by an appearance in the 1987 NCAA tournament her junior season, or her modeling career.
She only thought back to when her second life started, when she woke up in the hospital after a train hit the car in which she was riding and killed her fiance’ just days before their wedding.
It was October 20, 1991.
“Like anybody that’s going through the loss of somebody they love, when you’re in it you don’t see that it can get better,” she said. “To me, it’s unbelievable where I’m at now.”
Through a love a basketball she learned to live life, and love again.
to read the entire article follow the link below:

Remember the Gifts

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Recently I had the most incredible experience. I was allowed to share my story of recovery with a grief support group at a neighborhood middle school. I felt very privileged. I can’t imagine dealing with death while going through middle school. Those years are such a time of change and growth.

Before meeting with the students I spoke with Ann White at The Healing Center in hopes that I might better understand what part of my experience would best support them in dealing with their grief. Surrounded by the Healing Center’s warmth, I melted into the soft chair next to Ann and found myself holding back tears as I told her about my fiance Mark who was killed in an accident 17 years ago. A lot of years have passed since Mark’s death and I don’t cry about it much anymore, so I felt silly. Ann reached across and touched my arm. “It’s okay to cry. And it will be okay for the kids to see that even after many years have gone by, you have a special place in your heart for Mark.”
 
Thank you. Even an old lady like me felt relieved to hear it out loud. 
Ann related the grief of a loved one to a scar. She said the pain in your heart, just like a scar, can heal and be stronger than before, but it can also be very sore to the touch. 
I felt the pain melt away.
I talked to the middle schoolers about my life. How lucky I feel to be in this world sharing my life with my husband and kids. That I am a writer and I have just finished writing a book. That I am a fashion model and an athlete. That I had played basketball in college, and still play and coach basketball. I shared with them that there was a time in my life when I would not have thought any of it possible.
I explained that my finane Mark and I had been hit by a train. He had been killed and I wished I had been too. I told them about a friend, Solvieg, who during my recovery, said that grief hurt but over time I would feel better. “I’m not sure I believed her at the time,” I told the students, “but I did agree with the fact that I was hurting.” And now I see that Solvieg was right. After my accident, after losing Mark, ever so slowly I began to feel better. 
But along with time, there were several things that helped me in my journey of recovery, and when I talked with the students I explained that everyone’s experience is different but I hoped they could draw something useful from my experience. First of all, I cried a lot. I had great family support and I was allowed to cry and cry and yes…cry. I did not have to go to school or work and act like everything was okay. Finding the time to cry is not always an easy task but for me, it was an important part of grieving. 
I took life one-step-at-a-time. I was able to do that during the worst times thanks to my history as an athlete. How many times had I gone to basketball practice and pushed myself to work hard even when I was injured or simply sick and tire of practicing three hours a day. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I put my “never give up attitude” from basketball to good use on my journey of recovery.
A month after Mark was killed, I began writing in a journal. Writing may not be for everyone, but it was helpful for me to put my anger and pain on paper. How could this have happened? Why do I have to live without Mark? How can I go on? Every time, the words hit the page they allowed me to move forward in my recovery. To find a way to move ahead with my life. I believe that the journal doesn’t have to be fancy, sometimes it’s better if it’s not, that way you’re not afraid to write in it, dirty it’s beautiful pages.
Last, I found something I was passionate about to focus on…playing basketball. Trying to play basketball again, gave me something to live for. It helped me to move toward a life filled with happiness and love. Find your passion. Find a reason to live.
 
While meeting Ann at the Healing Center, she had asked me a question that penetrated my soul. “What gifts did Mark give you?” I had never thought of it like that before. At home I let the question swim around in my mind. I knew Mark was a part of me now and forever, I had written about him and how he changed my life, but I had never thought of it in that way. “What gifts did Mark give me?” I remembered how when we visited Marks grandparent’s he would chop wood, cut back branches that drooped across their drive, and look for other odd jobs to help around their house. Or what about how he had saved money to get a limosine for each of his three sisters for their 21st birthdays. (Not one, but three sisters.) Mark was thoughtful. that was one gift I have tried to implement into my life. I don’t always succeed but because of him I increase my effort. It has been nice to begin to identify and recognize many of the gifts that Mark has given me.
Just last week, I lost my grandfather “Bampa“. And I found it very comforting to look at the gifts he has given me. From something as simple as tickling my feet when I was a little kid (Oh how I loved that simple loving touch) to the way he lived and share his life.
Looking around the room during the middle school support group meeting, I realized that there were many gifts given to us in our lifetime and those given to us by the ones we have loved and lost have a special meaning.
While in the depth of grief I wouldn’t have seen it, but now I recognize the gifts that Mark and my grandfather have given me. And just as important I remind myself of the gifts that are given to me every day as I live my life. The mom that rescued my kids from piano when I worked late, the “walrus dancing” email sent by my middle school friend Kirsten that brought a chuckle during tax time, the sticky cookies-n-cream ice cream mustache kiss from my son. All of them are gifts. Sometimes when life gets hurried I forget about how precious life is, but then I think about Mark. I think about Bampa. I think about what is really important in life, my family and friends, and I feel very lucky indeed.
…remember the gifts.

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