I'm really not feeling it anymore, every weekend consumed in a hot, sweaty gym where my anxiety runs wild. It doesn’t excite me like it used to. I wish it did, my dad loved it. I do believe it helped me become who I am today. He got me in the combat sport because he knew how much it meant to him at that age, I know he has good intentions. 

I Approach my dad with fear, though I think I know how it's going to go. I don’t know why I am nervous, I know what the outcome is going to be. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, so it needs to be said. He smiles at me and says “Just because it was my dream, doesn’t mean it has to be your dream bud.” I feel the weight that I have been carrying for too long suddenly fall off my shoulders, As a flash of relief overcomes me. 

Breathing in all the luscious, perfectly groomed green grass all around me. The red flag whipping in the wind as we putt. The lines in the grass painting a picture on the fairway. My dad cracking jokes in my ear on the tee box. Our competitive sides bringing out an intense focus in both of us. I loved when we came out here, where no worries in the world can reach us, and the freeing feeling of being away from reality. This is my new focus, this is where I'm meant to be.

It was a journey to reach this point. It all brought me and my dad closer which is the last thing I thought it would do and I am grateful I took that leap of faith.