Worst Break Up Ever
It’s not what you’re thinking. When my career was officially over and I had somehow blinked and used up four years of eligibility, I was overcome with so many emotions. I knew I was sad, actually I was heartbroken, but it still wasn’t real to me. I am not exaggerating when I say I cried for a week straight after my last game, simply because I could not wrap my head around everything, and I didn’t really know how else to respond. No one prepares you for this part of life, and it literally happens overnight. It’s like the worst break up you’ve ever had, but 100x worse because you can’t get back together no matter how much one of you wants to (it was me, I was the one who wanted to get back together).
Anyone who knew me knew that volleyball was my life. It was my passion, my happiness, and my identity. Everyday (okay most days) I looked forward to going to practice because it was my escape, and I viewed the court as a playground. The game had my entire heart. My whole life up to this point had revolved around volleyball (and a little basketball), and I did not physically know how I was going to survive without it. The most intimidating part was when I realized I couldn’t hide behind the sport anymore. All I had left was myself, and who I truly was to my core. I’m not saying I hid behind volleyball in a bad way, but it sure allowed me to mask a lot of the things I was really dealing with but never had the time to face. Volleyball had always been my comfort, and now I was permanently uncomfortable.
After it was all said and done, I had so many thoughts running through my mind…mostly denial for a couple of weeks, maybe months honestly. These random thoughts were something like: What do normal students do for fun in the afternoons from 2-6pm? Where was I supposed to workout? What kind of workouts was I supposed to be doing? How often do normal people workout? Do normal people even workout?? Was I going to get to see my best friends/teammates everyday now?
Rhodes Reeves Field House, the place that served as my safe haven for four years, was no longer a safe place for me. I was still allowed in there, mainly because my ID was still activated and they couldn’t keep me out, but it just never felt the same. I felt like a visitor in a place that was once my home.
The reality of everything didn’t truly hit me until the second semester of my senior year, when the returners were beginning off-season workouts. For the first time in my life, I had no one to answer to. There was no calendar set in place for my entire semester, telling me where I needed to be and when I needed to be there. No longer did anyone care about how high I could jump, how much I could squat, or how fast I could run. It probably sounds freeing, but it was honestly scary. This was all foreign territory to me. I didn’t have to workout if I didn’t want to, but I was so groomed to working out everyday that I arguably went even harder because I was trying to make up for the void of all these things I now had in my life. My body image issues were still present as ever, which was also a driving factor for me keeping my strict workout routine. I was no longer an athlete, but I was doing all that I could to hold on to the life I always knew.
Up until this point, when I thought about my career ending I obviously focused on the conclusion of the game itself, but it was the everyday stuff that hit me just as hard. I had grown up seeing my teammates/best friends everyday at practice, and now that was taken away from me. It’s unreal to me that I literally got to practice and hangout with my friends everyday. Road trips were the best part of all of it, and I enjoyed bus rides way more than I should have. The simplicity of just chilling in the locker room together is also something I took for granted. I didn’t realize what I had while I still had it, and by the time I did it was over.
From this moment on, everything in my life changed and I had to begin the process of re-defining myself. The things I had spent my days living for and given all of my energy to were no longer, and I was going to have to find a new normal no matter how much I tried denying that. Part of me will always be an athlete, a teammate, and a student of the game, I now just have to figure out how to apply those qualities in the “real world.” There are many aspects of volleyball that translate into life, but if we’re being honest, it’ll never be the same. If you’re reading this as a current athlete, I urge you to live in the moment and please don’t wish it away. If you’re on the other end of your career still feeling lost, I’m right there with you, and we’ll figure this out eventually.