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…

 

 

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: Finding Your Way

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About once a month I speak at a massage school during their trauma unit. I was a trauma patient after I was hit by a train back in 1991, and receiving massage was a huge part of my healing. I was also a Liscenced Massage Practioner for 18 years (but life got in the way of me actually doing it for a living) so I understand both perspectives.

When I meet with the class we gather in a big circle and I share my experience with trauma and massage, and I invite the students to ask as many questions as possible. This week when I was talking I was reminded again of how important basketball was to my recovery. Having something I was passionate about to focus on, helped me to stay motivated when rehab was tough and believing that life was still worth living was tough. I would grab a ball, roll it around in my hands, breath in the sweet smell of leather and hit the hardwoods. First it was just dribbling back and forth all alone but eventually I was back on the court, doing what I love.

If you are going through tough times, find something that you are passionate about to help you find your way.

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.

There When It Matters

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My new magazine article “There When It Matters: A once-a-week (maybe) practitioner reflects on yoga’s restorative powers” just hit the stands, and especially since basketball season arrived and I have been up to my ears in the craziness of the first few weeks of the season, the article is a good reminder to me to pull out my yoga mat and breathe.

 

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 III – Support

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“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. ”

~Albert Schweitzer

My husband threw a book release party for the launch of my memoir Back on the Court. (well, he did have help from Heidi and Kathy) Friends and family gathered to celebrate. Models, basketball players & coaches, fellow writers, and friends I’ve met over the years through my kid’s preschool, elementary school and middle school days were there. Even a childhood friend who played with me in the sandbox when I was 3 years old suprized me. I wanted to cry. Okay, I did cry. But it was good to shed those tears and take a moment to focus on the friends that have helped support me through this thing called life.

Take a moment…think about those who have helped support you through 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.”

Just do it!

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Do you ever struggle to get yourself to workout? I’ve worked out once in the last 2 months. (I played basketball on my birthday.) I’m always pretty active. I walk, work around the house and yard, that sort of thing, but other than that I’ve been slightly lazy and It’s time I get out of the lethargic state I’m in and hit the gym.

I know how good it feels to be in shape. I’ve been there on and off my entire life, but these days there always seems to be something that gets in the way. Something more urgent. The laundry, the bills, chauffeuring kids from place to place. Even watching TV at times becomes more urgent.

Excuses. Yes, I know they are all excuses, but how do I get going again? It all started when I hurt my toe (yes toe). It slowed me down, gave me a “real” excuse. I still could have ridden my bike, used the elliptical, things of that sort, but I didn’t, I fell into this lazy state of being (and I’ll admit, a part of me really likes it). But now its time to get after it, like the classic Nike campaign, I will start the laundry, do the dishes and then give my self a kick in the butt….and JUST DO IT!

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.

Breathe

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Sometimes I have to stop for a moment and breathe. I mean really breathe. Allow the tension in my body to melt away. Recently I have had a lot of these times.

Fortunately, every Thursday I write with my friend Jenny. We hold one another accountable to our writing goals and use the time to put words on paper. Instead of talking about our week, we write a letter to one another as our writing warm up. Yesterday, in my letter I thanked her for our friendship and then dove into my frenzied week. Scribbling at a pace that was as fast as my life, up until that very moment. Field trips, games, photo shoots, business meetings, open gyms and of course the never ending, and dreaded, cleaning. Sentence by sentence, I detailed the chaos and at the end of each paragraph I wrote BREATHE. An explanation to Jenny, and a reminder to myself, of what I should be doing. I wrote. Took a breath. Wrote. Took a breath. And with each breath felt more calm and thought to myself, “…this should be a blog.”

We read our letters out loud to one another. Jenny went first. I smiled as she shared her letter that was written to me. She paused and I watched her shoulders rise and fall. “Breathe,” she read aloud. Our minds were in tune. (this was not the first time.) Jenny had started a blog series BREATH.

There is much to be said about the benefit of a good deep breath. Take a moment now, fill your lungs, hold the air inside your body for a brief moment and then, let it go…breathe…

*For more on BREATH go to www.heartwriter.com

FINDING YOUR GAME FACE: The Importance of Goal Setting in Basketball and in Life by Sonya G. Elliott

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Finding my game face, that determined mindset that helps me accomplish a goal, wasn’t easy after my fiancé was killed and I was critically injured in an accident nineteen years ago. I had to rely on the “never give up” attitude and work ethic that I had learned from my days on the basketball court to help me move forward with my life and begin to heal. Though the future was something I didn’t want to think about at the time, I set some goals, put on my game face, complete with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, and battled one day at a time to find the life I have today as a coach, a wife, a mother and a lover of the game.

Putting my dreams on paper has always helped me. The summer before I started high school I set the goal to take 5000 shots so I could improve my game and get ready for high school basketball. I achieved my goal, my summer camp’s version of the Peace.Love.Basektball Summer Shooting Challenge and made the varsity basketball team my first year of high school. The next year I became a starter. My senior year, I achieved my ultimate goal, a full-ride athletic scholarship to play basketball. My goals were being realized, but there were many goals along the way that I didn’t achieve. I didn’t make my goal of First Team All-Greater Spokane League. It was painful to watch that one die, along with others, but they were great lessons. I learned that even when I worked hard, I didn’t always get what I wanted. However, I learned to regroup, establish new goals, put on my game face, and work toward my future.

After my accident, it was that “never give up” attitude, instilled in me from my years on the court, that kept me moving forward. I set the goal to walk and went from wheelchair to quad cane, quad cane to cane, and cane to walking. Then I set the goal to play basketball again and that is when my healing truly began. I worked through my grief, strengthened my battered body and found that life was still worth living.

It takes hard work and determination to achieve a goal, but first you must establish a goal that you believe in and then put it in writing. According to a study by Dr. Gail Matthews of Dominican University, people who write down their goals, share their goals with a friend, and send weekly updates to that friend are on average 33% more successful in accomplishing their stated goals than those who merely formulated their goals.

Take the time to make note of your dreams. You can write your goals in a soft leather journal with a fancy tie, in a word document titled “My Awesome Future”, or on the back of an old envelope, it matters not, just make it official and write it down. It’s helpful to write down when you want to achieve the goal, why you want to achieve it, action steps to reach it, possible obstacles that may arrive when working toward it and how you will overcome these obstacles, but don’t let all that scare you. If you need to, make it simple. Grab a pen, write one goal and get to work.

Put on your game face and start setting goals and you will create the future of your dreams.


The following is an excerpt from Sonya Elliott’s memoir Back on the Court: A Young Woman’s Triumphant Return to Life, Love and Basketball

“I need a new goal in my life. If I can’t have Mark, I want back the one other important part of my life. I want to play basketball again…I step on to the basketball court to begin my comeback. Holding the ball near my face, I drink in the familiar smell of leather and then drop the ball to the floor and begin to dribble. I need to dribble the basketball. I need to know that at least one small thing in my life hasn’t changed. Dribbling back and forth, back and forth, the rhythm of the ball works its magic on my body and soul. My mind focuses and I forget all that has gone wrong, if only for a moment.”

March Madness by Sonya Elliott

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Melissa Erickson
It’s March Madness!

50% of all March profits from Peace.Love.Basketball products go to the Melissa Erickson Foundation. Helping Melissa, a former University of Washington basketball player, in her fight against ALS. Read more about Melissa in Janet Pelz inspiring blog – How Does She do it? Sharing the stories and not-so-secrets of (extra)ordinary women. Melissa Erickson: an athlete, teammate and friend, living with ALS.

And don’t forget to become a Peace.Love.Basketball facebook fan and receive inspiring quotes and stories that will help you on and off the court.

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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