having a piece of cake taken away after a small taste is not bittersweet, it's just bitter.
Softball was my first true love. My first word as a baby was even ball! The only other injury to take me away from the game for an extended period of time was my right MCL. Even though I was on crutches for about 4-5 months and not able to play, I was still able to throw. This one detail meant the world to me. It made me feel as though I was a part of practices, workouts, and even games. See, when you start playing a sport from such a young age it becomes essential to one's identity. This is especially true for me...
Growing up people always labeled me as a girly girl, completely ignoring the fact that I was indeed an athlete at heart. As I continued to get older the realization of "who gives a shit what anyone thinks" hit home. Why did I have to be just one thing? On the field, people knew the strength of my arm. Off the field, people knew my personable personality. The worlds meshed in high school. Presentation gave me the ability to truly believe in who I was and who I wanted to be.
And I wanted to be a college softball player. I longed for the freedom of being away at college with new people, new coaches, and a new place to explore. A chance to take what I was beginning to learn about myself as an athlete and set it free from any judgment.
So, when I got the opportunity to sign to play for the U of R on Valentine's Day in 2017, my dreams had come true. Despite the tense conversations of being far from family and my then significant other, I chose softball. More importantly, I chose myself. I had been undermined and challenged enough to not take the chance to play college softball at such a beautiful campus like Redlands.
Going through the whole recruiting process is such a headache, but it was also one of the most rewarding experiences ever. Nobody else got me to this point. I did. It was one of the first times that I wasn't listening to any negative thoughts or comments. I wanted to take the time to appreciate the moment. I, Jazzy was a college softball player and I was at my happiest.
That happiness felt fulfilled in the first months on campus. I was working out, practicing, and even playing in fall scrimmages. Getting used to the scholar-athlete schedule definitely took a lot of energy, but it was the exhaustion that I had yearned for all my softball career. I was living my dream...
After I got hurt, the dream became a nightmare. Waking up for early morning weights was no longer a great start to the day. Instead, it was just a consistent reminder of what I couldn't do. Rushing out of class to get to the locker room no longer became a rush of adrenaline that drove you into practice. Each step towards my empty locker made my heart beat faster... "don't cry", I'd have to tell myself. Stay positive, stay happy and stay supportive of the team. This task became harder and harder. My heart ached on picture day as the other freshmen smiled for their roster picture and talked about being able to wear the uniform for games. That would be the only time I would be able to get dressed... players on the IL don't wear the uniforms.
Remember, I had been on the IL before, so I knew the "protocol" an injured player should follow; even if you are hurt you are active in practice.
I reminded myself to not seem selfish and pitiful. Since I was no longer able to show my strength, work ethic, and commitment to the team and my coach on the field, off the field would have to suffice. And who am I off the field? Yup, extroverted and supportive. So, the role I took on was the "helping hand" (ironic I know) for any teammates and coaches. I put my heart into it, just as I would in the weight room.
The more time I spent away from physically participating the more my anxiety grew. Do my teammates think I'm weak? Does coach? Oh god, coach, Does she think I'm a joke or a waste of a roster spot? How can I show her that I am present? Should I learn how to throw with my left hand? Do I look too down or sad at practice? Questions like these and many more continued to spin around my head. All the while, my anxiety about my own general wellbeing also began to erupt. How the hell was I going to do tests with one hand? Can I learn to write with my left hand? Can my Drs workaround softball and classes? But at the end of it all, the only questions I obsessed about? When would I be okay to play softball? When can I be me again?
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