The Hardest Things Are The Best Things

The hardest things are the best things.

A blog by Alexandra Tillinghast, Competitive Sailor

8 May 2020: To be honest, writing this is hard. But, if I have learned anything from life so far, it’s the hardest things that are the best things.

When I was five, my mom bought me my first pair of soccer cleats. I was the only girl on an all-boys after-school soccer team. We practiced once a week with a “snack break” during the 45 minutes of “intense training.” But, if you had asked me then, I thought I was going to the World Cup. For me, no matter the sport, that was my story: ballet, basketball, figure skating, sailing, skiing, soccer, softball, tennis, track and field, and volleyball. I didn’t care which sport, I just loved the feeling of doing your best and competing with others who share a mutual respect for one another. I fell in love with the satisfaction I felt after training or competing; I fell in love with the competition and the sensation of being part of a team with shared goals.

From when I was two years old until I was thirteen, I thought I was going to be a bunhead ballerina for the rest of my life. I even thought I wouldn’t pursue normal school so I could focus on training and performing, and dreamed of one day traveling around the world as a professional ballerina.

This dream came to an end when my foot pain, that I had once powered through thinking it was totally normal, turned out to be a crippling dysfunction that resulted in me needing to have numerous long surgeries in order to repair my foot. After the surgeries, my dream of being a professional ballerina was taken away forever. But, to be honest, I don’t think of it that way anymore, because I’ve learned that looking back on this as becoming “immobilized” is self-limiting. Soon after my foot healed, I focused my athletic interests on competitive sailing.

Sailing wasn’t just a new Olympic dream, it also became an escape for me. No matter what was happening ashore, I left it there, in a different world, to go to my happy place -- my safe place. I loved sailing. I still love sailing. There will always be a place in my heart for sailing -- it’s the sport that made me the person I am today. It turned me into a strong, determined, and motivated individual. I have thankfully come back to believing sailing will always be there for me, but the brutal reality is that it wasn’t always. Not when I was raped.

I grew to regret ever pursuing sailing, and started to feel that it was my safe place no longer.

After the attack I couldn’t separate my rape from my sport, my sport from my safe place, or, my life from what happened to me. I thought I’d never be the same carefree, happy, and joyful individual I once was. I was told by some friends that I’d never be the same and I would never live a happy life. Little did I initially know, I would. Little did I know, I could be that person again, and so much more.

I was hurt, but I was not broken. I was shaped, but I was not changed. I gained a new perspective on life and a new appreciation for every day, including my sport. What happened to me was a kind of indiscernible raw pain, but after much “grit” and determination to heal, it has not made me live a lesser life. That would mean he won, and he didn’t; he never will.

Instead, six months later, I founded a non-for-profit corporation to help sexually assaulted athlete survivors. I named it ‘Thriving Not Surviving’ because yes, when you’ve been assaulted, you strive to just survive. But with support and sheer determination -- and no it doesn’t take a day, a week, a month, or a year -- eventually you will thrive again. I have learned that we are in a world full of survivors. We are strong because we survived the worst time of our lives, but we are even stronger together. If that scares you because you are someone that does not think women are at least your equal, it should. But remember, together we are far stronger than most can imagine.

Breaking your foot sucks, but it was inevitable for me. Being raped -- that’s not inevitable, but together we can eradicate it.

So, if this hits close to home because you too share a horrible experience, just remember: Me too, I too. We are in this together, we are stronger as one. We are powerful -- you are powerful.

If this hits close to home because you have enabled a system to harm people, or have in fact harmed another individual, just remember your days are numbered. Your eradication is inevitable and you are nothing. The world is intolerant of you.

So yes, when I said at the beginning writing this was hard, I wasn’t lying.

But, the best things are always the hardest.

A Thriving Survivor

Click here for more information on Thriving Not Surviving

Click here to register for Allie’s ‘Thriving Not Surviving Women In Sport Webinar’ Monday 11 May at 2pm EST.