I met my husband Jeff in college a few weeks before he signed a professional baseball contract. He spent seven years working his way up the minor league ladder with a few cups of coffee in the big leagues, and I was right there by his side.
We moved around. A lot. Five moves in one year was typical. And every time he was promoted, I would have to start over in a new city. Usually after having moved our entire apartment and driving across the country by myself. (Players are flown out immediately.)
Baseball life was crazy, but I was all in. It was fun and exciting to chase a dream together. But it was hard too. I struggled with loneliness. I struggled with finding my purpose. I struggled with anxiety. (Will he be called up? Will he get hurt? What will happen next?)
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