thetravelingwithers.com

Long post y’all. TL;DR: Raising a wrestler changes more than you know.

There’s something unexpected that happens when you sit on the edge of a wrestling mat long enough.

At first, you think you’re there for them.

You’re watching your kid lace up their shoes, adjust their headgear, bounce on their toes like they’ve got something to prove. You’re scanning the bracket, doing mental math, sizing up the competition, wondering if today is the day it all clicks.

Your heart races when theirs should be the only one pounding. My kid never fails to ask me why I am tired after watching him wrestle…

Because let’s be honest… this sport doesn’t let you hide as a parent. There’s no bench to disappear into. No quiet corner. Just a mat in the middle of a gym and a spotlight that somehow feels like it’s on all of us.

And in those early matches, I realized something:

I wasn’t just watching my kid wrestle.
I was watching my own fear wrestle too.

It shows up in subtle ways.

What if they get hurt?
What if they get disappointed when lose?
What if they quit?
What if I’ve pushed too hard… or not enough?

And then there’s the sneaky one:

What does this say about me?

Because when you love your kids deeply, their experiences don’t feel separate from your identity. Their wins feel like validation. Their losses have the potential to feel… personal.

(Yeah. We’re saying the quiet part out loud today.)

Wrestling doesn’t let kids fake it.

There’s no hiding behind teammates. No passing the ball. No “I’ll try harder next time” without evidence. It’s all of their efforts – all their preparation, exposed in real time.

And I’ve watched my kid choose hard things over and over again.

Walk onto the mat nervous and go anyway.
Lose and come back anyway.

Get called out by a coach and adjust anyway.
Face the same opponent who beat them… and wrestle anyway.

No drama. No big speeches. Just… choices.

Again and again and again.

Because when you watch that kind of courage up close, it does something to you.

It started small.

I stopped over-explaining myself in rooms where I belonged. I spoke up a little quicker. I trusted my instincts a little more.

And then it got louder.

I started making decisions without crowd-sourcing opinions.

I stopped shrinking to make other people comfortable.
I realized that confidence isn’t something you wait for—it’s something you practice.

Sound familiar?

Yeah. Same energy as stepping onto the mat.

Here’s what surprised me the most:

Confidence doesn’t look like hype.

It looks like:

Showing up when you’re not sure how it’s going to go
Taking the shot even if it might get defended
Resetting after you get taken down
Listening, adjusting, and going again

It’s quiet. Steady. Earned.

And I watched my kid build it… match by match, practice by practice.

So I started building my confidence the same way.

Our kids think we’re the ones guiding them.

(And sure… we are. Snacks, rides, emotional pep talk. We’ve got range.)

But they’re guiding us too.

They’re showing us how to:

Be uncomfortable without quitting
Detach from outcomes and stay committed to effort
Fail without turning it into identity
Try again without needing permission

And if we’re paying attention, we get the opportunity to grow right alongside them.

I used to think confidence came from having things figured out.

Now I know it comes from being willing to figure things out in motion. As a musician, I identify this with “playing the changes.”

From trying. Adjusting. Trying again.

From choosing to step onto *my own mat*—in my work, in my voice, in my life—without waiting to feel ready.

Because ready isn’t real.

But courage? That’s available. All the time.

I showed up to wrestling season thinking I was raising a resilient kid. Turns out, I was sitting in a front-row seat to my own growth.

And if you’ve ever watched your child do something hard… something brave… something uncomfortable—You know exactly what I mean.

We don’t just cheer from the sidelines. We change there.

If you’re in a season of watching your kids stretch, struggle, and rise…Pay attention.

You might be growing too. And how beautiful is that?!

#personalgrowth #wrestling #grappling #wrestlingmom #pinsandwins #growth #confidence #motivation #teamwork #growtogether #motivational