When I was little, I wanted to be a cheerleader. My mom used to tell me she knew I was a cheerleader even before I was born. Everything about it intrigued me. The uniforms, the pompoms, the dances, the stunts, everything. Finally, in third grade, I had my chance. I cheered for my brothers Little League football team. I did that every year, becoming a cheer diva. In junior high, I started cheering for basketball. I became captain and my love for cheerleading continued. In high school, I cheered for both basketball and football. I was “the cheerleader." That is what people knew me as. I was the happy, peppy and loud cheerleader. I went to all the cheer camps. I wanted to be known from school to school as the really good cheerleader. People would tell me that they could tell I was one of the cheerleaders who really knew what I was doing. I was always striving to be the sharpest, the loudest and the best. I practiced my dances until they were perfect. The summer before my senior year, I tried out for All-American and made it. This allowed me to travel to London and perform in the London New Year's Day Parade. This will forever be one of my fondest memories. It was at this point that I knew I was where I wanted to be, I was a great cheerleader. My senior year, I was back and forth on if I wanted to quit cheerleading. I loved it, but it felt more like a chore. I didn’t want to do it because people expected me to, I wanted to do it because I loved it. I felt lost when it came to cheerleading my senior year. I knew I loved it, but was that because I had always been one or because I was really in love with cheerleading?

My cheerleading career continued into college. I was offered scholarships for cheerleading. I remember being so nervous that I would not be as good as I thought. I remember coming home from an open gym and going straight to cheer a game and going over every little detail with my high school coach. Fast forward to my freshman year of cheering -- it’s the first practice. I was wide-eyed and terrified. Holy sh*t. How did I make it onto a squad with this much talent? I did not tumble. I did not know how to do major stunt sequences. I had never competed. What had I gotten myself into? It seemed everyone else was so much better than me. I didn’t have my girls with me anymore, and all the upperclassmen already had their groups. Was I going to fit in? Was I going to be able to be what my coach wanted me to be? Was I going to meet her expectations and not fail? The semester continued and we all became one family. I could not be happier. Finally, the competition team was getting posted. I was so nervous, but I did not make it. I was heartbroken but determined to only become better. Now, it’s Christmas break, I am laying on my couch and I get a text from my coach. I start crying then and there, this totally freaked my mom out because I wasn’t able to communicate with her what was going on. I just shoved my phone in her face so she could read the text, and she even started getting emotional. The text was coach asking if I wanted to be on the competition team. I automatically said yes. I did not care that I had to go back to school before break ended, my dream was coming true and I was ready. I got back to school, behind the progress of everyone else, but I fought so hard to catch up. I fought through a back injury. I fought through feeling like the worst one on the team. As a team, we fought to be the best and it paid off. We made it. We made it to Nationals. Performing in Daytona Beach. That was the moment I knew I was glad I never gave up.

Now it’s my sophomore year and life's getting crazy. I am growing up, working, I have my

sorority, my schoolwork and this year I also started running track. Football was fun, we grew as a family with all of our newbies. We gained more talent and were able to do so much more. Fall semester, I was completely dedicated to cheer. When spring semester started, I switched my focus from cheer to track. At first, I really missed it. I didn’t have any friends on the track team, and I missed my cheer family. I was trying to balance cheerleading and track and, at first, I was able to do it, but after awhile I had to focus more on track. I was missing practices and games. While their friendships were getting stronger, I was missing out. Now I am part of my track family. A couple weeks ago, my cheer coach asked us all if we were planning on coming back next year, and I answered yes with no doubt in my mind (unless I decided to transfer). After leaving that meeting, I started really thinking: did I really want to keep cheering? I thought this question over in my head so much, I lost sleep and made myself sick from stressing about it. I thought of all the negatives and the positives. I love cheerleading and my cheer family, but I do not like only being able to give half to cheer and half to track. One major reason was that I wasn’t missing it. I wasn’t missing practices anymore, I didn’t miss cheering games or open gyms. These are the things I used to live for, and now they just weren’t the same.

This is when I knew it was the end, I knew it was time to put my pompoms down and move on. I did not want to lose my cheer family, but they are still on campus and I know I am welcome to come to practices. I will be their No. 1 fan come competition season. I will be cheering along at games. My love for cheerleading will never leave, but I am no longer the cheerleader I was. Getting to continue my love for cheerleading in college has truly been a blessing and I would not change the past two years one bit. I will forever cherish all the friendships, competitions, practices, bus rides, photo shoots, coaches, and games. I will never forget the feeling I got standing on those blue mats. I will never forget all the memories and hard work. It is hard knowing I will never be known as “the cheerleader” anymore, but I will always be a cheerleader at heart.