2018 Had Some Struggle Bus Moments But I Have Learned From Them And You Can, Too

2018 Had Some Struggle Bus Moments But I Have Learned From Them And You Can, Too

Dear 2018...

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As 2018 is coming to a close, it is time to reflect on some things that happened this year. 2018 had quite its struggle bus moments for me in my life, but I was able to learn from those moments. I learned that failure was ok. Failure for me this year meant falling down and getting right back up. I'm not going to be good at everything I do, so learning to accept that has been a little hard, but I've learned that I am much stronger once I get back up from my tough times.

Boys will be boys as cliche as that may sound, and sometimes you might just need to not have some of them in your life because they may be negative and sis you don't need that kind of negativity in your life whatsoever (thanks to Rachel Hollis I have now picked up some of her slang/inspo). But the ones that do add value to your life can stay and continue on your journey with you in whichever form they want (most likely in a group chat similar to group me.. you may end up being the meme/gif queen to them eventually).

Friends will always be there for you to vent to, they know you as equally as your family. I've learned to keep all my friends close to me even if they go to a different school. It's nice to know that I will always have some people forever in my #squad. 2018, you have taught me a lot about myself but you have also been a year of growth. I've grown a lot in my faith journey and with the organizations, I'm lucky to be apart of (shout out to SAO, Odyssey, and Campus Catholics). Thank you for 2018 and all its memories but I'm ready to start the next chapter!

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The Coach That Killed My Passion

An open letter to the coach that made me hate a sport I once loved.
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I fell in love with the game in second grade. I lived for every practice and every game. I lived for the countless hours in the gym or my driveway perfecting every shot, every pass and every move I could think of. Every night after dinner, I would go shoot and would not allow myself to go inside until I hit a hundred shots. I had a desire to play, to get better and to be the best basketball player I could possibly be.

I had many coaches between church leagues, rec leagues, personal coaches, basketball camps, middle school and high school. Most of the coaches I had the opportunity to play for had a passion for the game like I did. They inspired me to never stop working. They would tell me I had a natural ability. I took pride in knowing that I worked hard and I took pride in the compliments that I got from my coaches and other parents. I always looked forward to the drills and, believe it or not, I even looked forward to the running. These coaches had a desire to teach, and I had a desire to learn through every good and bad thing that happened during many seasons. Thank you to the coaches that coached and supported me through the years.

SEE ALSO: My Regrets From My Time As A College Softball Player

Along with the good coaches, are a few bad coaches. These are the coaches that focused on favorites instead of the good of the entire team. I had coaches that no matter how hard I worked, it would never be good enough for them. I had coaches that would take insults too far on the court and in the classroom.

I had coaches that killed my passion and love for the game of basketball.

When a passion dies, it is quite possibly the most heartbreaking thing ever. A desire you once had to play every second of the day is gone; it turns into dreading every practice and game. It turns into leaving every game with earphones in so other parents don't talk to you about it. It meant dreading school the next day due to everyone talking about the previous game. My passion was destroyed when a coach looked at me in the eyes and said, "You could go to any other school and start varsity, but you just can't play for me."

SEE ALSO: Should College Athletes Be Limited To One Sport?

Looking back now at the amount of tears shed after practices and games, I just want to say to this coach: Making me feel bad about myself doesn't make me want to play and work hard for you, whether in the classroom or on the court. Telling me that, "Hard work always pays off" and not keeping that word doesn't make me want to work hard either. I spent every minute of the day focusing on making sure you didn't see the pain that I felt, and all of my energy was put towards that fake smile when I said I was OK with how you treated me. There are not words for the feeling I got when parents of teammates asked why I didn't play more or why I got pulled after one mistake; I simply didn't have an answer. The way you made me feel about myself and my ability to play ball made me hate myself; not only did you make me doubt my ability to play, you turned my teammates against me to where they didn't trust my abilities. I would not wish the pain you caused me on my greatest enemy. I pray that one day, eventually, when all of your players quit coming back that you realize that it isn't all about winning records. It’s about the players. You can have winning records without a good coach if you have a good team, but you won’t have a team if you can't treat players with the respect they deserve.

SEE ALSO: To The Little Girl Picking Up A Basketball For The First Time


Cover Image Credit: Equality Charter School

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How I Started Writing

It all started with my scene days...

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You're looking at the title of my article and you see a picture of Gerard Way, you're probably wondering why. I started writing when I was in middle school and my scene phase was well underway.

The first group I discovered was due to a childhood friend and it was called Blood On The Dance Floor. If you don't know who they are, please don't find out. That's what really perpetuated the beginning of my scene phase.

The writing began in the infancy of my scene days. I was still discovering the wonders of metal, alternative, and punk. I cannot tell you how but I found the band My Chemical Romance. This revolutionized my world.

I changed the way I dressed, my attitude, my hair and my views, all because of these guys. I LOVED them. Ask anyone who knew me back then and they will know how deeply I admired them. Quite frankly, I was obsessed. I have the tendency of taking one thing and dedicating my entire existence to it.

This was the one obsession I had for many years. This is the part where it gets embarrassing.

Now, everyone knows what fan-fiction is. If you don't, I dare you to search up your favorite couple and the word fan-fiction next to it.

Gerard Way, the lead vocalist, and Frank Iero, one of the guitarist did something called "stage gay" where they challenged homophobia by kissing on stage and promoting equality. My teenage mind was floored. I was fascinated by what they were doing. I genuinely believed that they would make a wonderful couple and that they were secretly together.

Once I saw that there were thousands of fan-fiction written about them, my obsession began. I would do nothing else but read stories about them in my free time. Everyone around me knew about it, too, because I never could keep quiet about it. Albeit, people thought I was weird, it did not diminish my passion.

One day I had the brilliant idea of writing about them myself. The reason being that there was one prompt that I wanted to see written out but I never found it. I couldn't write well and if you find any of my old notebooks, I'm sorry. It didn't matter how terrible my writing was, I would write ALL THE TIME. Every second I had free time, I would pull my notebook out. That's the thing i became known for in middle school.

Over time, I began to write about other people who I loved. Then, I would write things that had nothing to do with fan-fiction. I mostly enjoyed fiction. Last summer, I saw a post about joining Odyssey and here I am. Although I'm currently writing about my life experiences and articles that have nothing to do with MCR, I will never forget where my passion for writing came from.

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