ACL. To every athlete, this acronym spells DOOM. An ACL injury is one of the most common yet most severe injuries in sports. It takes athletes out of their sport for six months to a year—too long of a long time, especially at the pace athletes live their life. For us female athletes, an ACL injury is five times more likely to happen because of the way our hips are shaped and the hormonal changes that affect our ACL elasticity during a part of our menstrual cycle. In other words, it is not a matter of chance for us, but more so a matter of time to get one. My time was in October 14, 2016. But even then, I still could not believe it happened to me. Out of all the years I’ve been playing basketball, why would it happen right before my last season of Division I basketball? Likec’mon, did this just happen? Why is this happening to me? Why now? Am I going to be able to even walk again? Should I even continue with my basketball career? These questions were constant thoughts that drove me crazy.I thought it was the end of the world. I cringed and gasped at the thought of an ACL whenever it happened to someone else or when I would see the scars from the surgery. I thought I would never see the light at the end of the tunnel when it happened to me. But soon enough, after I took time to put things in perspective and do something positive about my circumstances, there it was.

I keep a log of my ACL journey in a small, green journal. It’s been twenty-four weeks since my injury. Each week brings new hope and excitement. For each week, I usually log the new exercises I’ve been doing at physical therapy, how my knee feels, and scripture verses. In case I ever feel impatient or frustrated about the process, the logs are something to look back to. Now that I am about four months out of surgery, running, doing lateral movement, and cleared for non-contact basketball workouts, the light at the end of the tunnel could not be brighter. Here are a few things I’ve learned so far:

1. Self-reflection and introspection are critical for personal growth.

My injury has helped me get to know myself on a deeper level. There was never a time in my life where I felt so uncomfortable in self-reflection until the weeks following my injury. I didn’t feel lonely, but I felt alone, like I was in a room having a deep, existential conversation with myself. What is my purpose in life? What is God’s plan for me? Why can’t I enjoy the blessings of the life I live, like perform in an actual basketball game, without getting hurt in some way? If God is “using” me, why make me the messenger? I wrestled hard with these questions, and I will always wrestle with them. I don’t think I will ever get a descriptive, tangible answer, or at least know until more time passes. But the dots are starting to connect. The injury forced me to strip off the layers of my identity to get to know my essence.

2. Asking for help is okay. It is impossible to do everything on your own.

Crutches. It was a pain going to and from places with these things, especially when it came to getting food, and worse, showering. During the first few days, when I tried to eat in the cafeteria, I remember just sitting at a table because I didn’t know anyone there that I thought wanted to help me. I know it sounds crazy. You may be thinking, why not just ask? Good question. But in those moments, when I couldn’t move my right leg, where standing up and sitting down was a real thought process, I did not want any more attention directed towards me and I did not want to bother anyone with food. One of the chefs in the cafeteria, Michael, approached me one day and asked me what food I wanted. It sounds crazy, but I almost burst into tears. I was very emotional about my circumstance and so hungry for food. He saved my life that day. He told me, “asking for help reveals strength, not weakness.” I will never forget those words.

I’ve surrendered to the fact that I cannot live life on my own without God. I’ve always been a person of faith, but before my injury, my faith was highly dependent on the highs and lows of my life. If life was good, I prioritized my pride, not God. If life was low, I would call on God for help. It was never consistent. During my rehab, I’ve learned that nothing I do is without God. Through prayer and meditation, I’ve come to realize and believe that He plays an intricate part in my journey. Proverbs 16:9 says, “A man's heart plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps.” God is the ultimate planner. He will never waste a drop of pain. He is with me through hardship, redirecting me towards a better path, beyond what I can measure. It’s just a matter of time, and I’ve been getting small and obvious answers that it will be better. I just need to trust Him and the process.

3. The simple joys of life are what matter most.

Family, friendships, having a home, giving and receiving love, and faith— simple things that endure. I believed in a false armor once, where I felt secure in myself because of the material things that I have accumulated over the years—things in basketball, in test scores, in followers, and in titles. These things are so fleeting, and at the end of the day, they don’t reflect anything about me at all. It was a false sense of security. True security and happiness are simple and intrinsically gained through self-reflection and getting to know God.

4. Patience is not a passive thing.

Patience is productive. Active patience is key in the rehabilitation process. I can’t move too slowly, or else I won’t make my goal to be cleared for competition, and I can’t move too fast because I run the risk of re-injuring myself. I’ve learned to accept present circumstances by face value, but focus on things that I can control, which will keep me on track for a full recovery. A key thing after an ACL surgery is to regain quad strength and size. At four months out, my right quad is still not the same size as my left quad, but according to my PT, it looks very good for a person in this phase of recovery. Doing little things like leg raises and quad sets in bed has hastened the process for me. There is always a way to be productive with the cards I’m dealt. I can’t always control the outcome, but I can take ownership of my approach, the process and how I want my experience to be.

5. I have an amazing support group.

True friendship is born out of hardship. Proverbs 17:17 says this. In times of extremity, I’ve come to know my greatest friends, my family. These people see the real me, and they see my worth. My ACL has also given me the chance to meet new people, make new lasting friendships, and appreciate love in its purest form.

6. Empathy.

When I was still in a knee brace walking around New York City, I felt sorely out of place. In a place where everyone is always in a rush, I moved at a pace of a snail. I would hear sneers and see looks of frustration when I would go down subway stairs. I felt extremely bad. But then I realized, if I never had this injury, would I be doing the same thing? Absolutely. There were many times I got caught behind someone walking slowly, or taking their time going down a flight of stairs, where I sneered and grunted. By being incapacitated to a certain extent, I can empathize with those who have been on the receiving end of sneers and frustration when all this time, I myself am guilty of that. In a wider scope, my ACL has built a sense of awareness of how I understand others. To empathize is to be able to gain perspective and broaden sentiments, which furthers understanding.

For all the ACL warriors out there and all those who are going through hardship, take a deep breath. Be strong. As the saying goes, this too shall pass. You will get through it. You are bigger than the circumstance you are in. Use your hardship to be a better individual, don't let it use you. Keep your heart, eyes and ears open for what hardship maybe teaching you, and do something about it-- Write. Read. Rap. Sing. Paint. Meditate. Pray. Speak.