Don’t Stress Over the Next Move—Be Where Your Feet Are
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me, “What is your husband’s dream job—like if he could be the head coach anywhere, where would it be?”, I would be a very wealthy lady (and probably make coach retire!).
But we learned a long time ago that holding on to hope in one school or one town will only make you resent your current place and possibly even keep you from putting down roots.
Coach was lucky enough to start at his alma mater from the very beginning (first as a volunteer and then as a paid assistant), which is usually everyone’s first guess. After that, I would fall into the belief that wherever we currently were was our dream job, because it meant we most likely would never have to move again.
I’m not good at goodbyes.
I’m even worse at new beginnings. This is the part of the coach’s wife life that I’ll never find joy in.
In both cases, my natural instinct is to hide away and busy myself with the “to do” list. Before kids, I would force myself to fit with anybody and in every place I came across, trying to create a feeling of belonging. It wasn’t always productive, but I was at least trying to build a community.
But after a few moves and a few kids, I started to let the excuse of “too much to do” prolong any sort of integration into a new community. I would just coast along, waiting for the time to come when we’d have to pack up and start all over again.
There are also far too many variables to even begin to try and predict a future for a coaching family. And coaches’ wives tend to be worriers. We overanalyze every small thing, evaluating how it will affect our livelihood and our stability. We often preoccupy ourselves with one moment or instance possibly leading to another move.
But the truth is, no one bad play, no one unexpected loss, not even one loud heckler in the stands will be able to close a door that is Divinely yours.
Along that same line, no clawing, scratching, or forcing will open one that isn’t meant for you.
So celebrate the win.
Savor that loss (because it meant the team was able to play).
Bless the heart of all the bleacher coaches.
I’ve wasted so many last chances with people and places that I love. I’ve lost years of growth because I’ve waited a long time to plant seeds in new ground.
One of the best (and hardest) lessons a coach’s wife can learn is to just be where your feet are.
Jess Gilardi is a lacrosse coach’s wife who recently moved to Long Island when her husband became a head coach. She has three kids, ages 7, 6, and 3. She was a mental health therapist in the school system before becoming the full time chaos coordinator for the family (a.k.a. stay at home mom). She does manage to fit in a little work here and there. Outside of lacrosse and family, she loves Jesus, the Tracy Anderson Method, and empowering others. You can follow her crazy adventures on social media, Instagram @jessgilardi and Facebook as Jessica Gilardi.