"It was in that moment of not pretending, and choosing acceptance that I found hope once again".
-Gail O'Keefe (yes, not Georgia, though I'm not sure who Gail is..?)
This week's blog challenge is a challenge indeed... we drew "Random Acts of Kindness" and "Get Over It", which more specifically means, to write about a time when you simply had to get over something. Since I am seldom random, and hardly kind (mostly joking with the latter) I feel the need to write about the acceptance of something I wasn't initially so keen on.
Growing up as an athlete is something I must have taken for granted. As far back as I can remember I have loved soccer, and from almost as far back, I wanted to be the next Mia Hamm (it must have been the 1996 Olympics). I began playing soccer at 5 (which was probably, 1995) and loved it. I had a great coach, a great team, it was so much fun. For one glorious year, I enjoyed soccer for what it was, an hour out in the grass, a steady supply of capri suns, and running around with friends. In '96, it all changed.
The
US Women's Olympic team in Atlanta that year was unstoppable, with the much-celebrated Mia Hamm at the helm. Watching them must have given me some new sense of purpose, a new life goal. Forget the hopeful doctors, lawyers, and marine biologists - I was going to play college soccer, and be on the US Women's Olympic team. Obviously, these are pretty lofty goals for a 6 year old. Luckily, I had the most supportive (perhaps sometimes, over supportive) parents a girl with said dream could have. They enrolled me in regular skills sessions with former pros, and gave me every possible opportunity to excel and get one step closer. When I turned 10, it was finally time to try out for a club team. These teams had non-stop schedules, played regular season games, traveled to out of town tournaments, had multiple weekly practices, conditioning, and skills. Growing up in metropolitan north Texas (one of the national hubs for competitive or club soccer) meant there was no shortage of club teams, so while I had options of where to play, so too the coaches had options of who to sign (yes, as a 10 year old, you would "sign" to a club team for one calendar year). I chose the American Eagles, a club based right in Colleyville. That first year, I made the B team. I was devastated. The A team's coach told me my weakness was conditioning, I had the rest of the package, but tired too easily and needed to work on my stamina. At 11 years old, I began to run cones in my front yard, at the park, wherever I could. I would run myself until I threw up. I did push ups, sit ups, and sprints, on my own, almost daily, in addition to the team's regular practice schedule.
After one year on the B team, I was moved up. I now had to earn my starting spot on this team. New challenges and new struggles arose, but I never faltered. As I got older and older, continuing to play, I never lost sight of the dreams I'd had as a 5 year old. I'm sure this story could be a novel, and not an incredibly interesting one, so in summary, I continued the ascent to better and better teams. We all know little girls can be mean, so I developed a thick skin in an extremely competitive world. I was with the team so often that when I got into middle school and high school, I had no time for dating, or getting into drugs and alcohol. I worked out so much that I could eat bacon cheeseburgers and fettucine alfredo to my heart's content. I made Varsity as a freshman with two other girls, and became a starter on a club team that was nationally ranked. Soon enough, I was 16, and unofficial college letters started to come in.
Here's where things get fuzzy. As a child, things are black and white. You know what you do and don't want, and the future is so far off you can do anything. At 16, I had hard times with the sport both emotionally and physically and suffered severe, long-term damages from both. Girls in the high school program with me who had been like sisters turned on me, made my life feel like a personal hell, even vandalized my car. My mom loved to tell me when people were mean to me that they were just jealous. I don't think I fully bought into that, but maybe she was right. 16 years old, with a million college doors open to me academically, not only athletically, and with so much potential. My parents were always 110% behind me, I am lucky to have had such a strong foundation to continue to rely on. Growing older only cements this even further.
16 is hard for a lot of kids, for most kids. Outside of soccer, 2 of my classmates, one a friend, committed suicide. Friends began to have sex and I had never even kissed a boy. People brought drugs into the locker room. The place that had kept me safe from the normal adolescent struggles suddenly became a catalyst for it. I definitely grew up a
LOT slower than my peers. I would say that's continued to be to my benefit. So many pressures exist in the regular world for a teenager, that when I tore cartilage in my rib cage and was out for the entirety of recruiting season, I was readily waving the white flag. I was told I could play through the pain, but that it would be constant, unrelenting, and I would never fully heal. The thing I had worked so hard for my whole life became impossible to stomach. I quit.
Quitting was both the easiest and the hardest decision to make. I loved the game, but so many external factors were keeping me from it. I felt like I couldn't take another minute in that high school locker room, with those girls. The pain in my side from my rib cage was constant. I needed to escape fully and at once. When I think back on it, I can't believe I put up with so much.
Day by day, with new choices, and new faces, and the help of one phenomenal teacher and coach, I made new goals for myself. I chose a college based on what I wanted to do with my life. I don't think I ever thought too hard about what I would do
after the Olympics. Sadly, there is still not a place for a professional women's soccer league. Reality will knock everyone on their ass eventually, I know I'm lucky to count this as one of my hardest life adjustments. I'm Alissa, I'm 25, and I will never play in the Olympics. I mean, seriously? Duh.
Through what felt like
the hardest thing, I learned to value myself for every
other reason. I found new ways to measure growth and success, new things to make me happy, and learned how to say goodbye to the things that begin to hurt more than they help. I surround myself with people I love, who let me say how I feel, and I'm focused on what I want, and how to get it. Life is short, & all that. YOLO bitches.
“Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, So what. That's one of my favorite things to say. So what.”
- Andy Warhol
 |
| A happy glance back… Note, none of these girls vandalized my car. |
