When I arrived at college my freshman year, everything in my life had changed. I was living my “dream”, the future I had spent my whole life working for. I was a signed scholarship athlete at a division 1 school, leaving my old life and hometown behind for everything this transition had to hold. I didn’t know what to come, but how much I’ve grown has opened my eyes wider than ever before.

I have never handled pressure well, competition always seemed unnatural to me. A lot of my identity as an athlete contradicted this, which began the realization that maybe I had settled into a life made for who everyone saw me to be, rather than who I was.

Raised with a goal in mind, the unraveling of what I truly dreamed to be in my life was a wakeup call I had no way of preparing for. I had struggled with depression and anxiety for years prior but never knew how to define the constant worry I had reeling in me.

The stress and pressure that comes with college athletics isn’t something for everyone, and as I soon realized it truly wasn’t for me. Between traveling, constantly being surrounded by other people (teammates, coaches, advisors and so on), mixed with enrollment in a major I lacked passion for, I was by the end of my freshman year burnt out.

I worked at the façade, of someone who could do it all. I’d strain myself socially, trying to get in every bit of the party element of college everyone so strongly looked forward to. I was falling short in every category, my performance academically weakening as well as noticeable declines to my passion for the sport I once loved. And when the going gets tough, the pressure gets added.

I found myself as a result of my setbacks, being pushed harder and monitored more strongly than ever. My anxiety was through the roofs, I broke down anytime I was alone. My mind was constantly in a state of worry, and I was stuck in the mentality that I simply wasn’t good enough.

Listening to what my heart and rebalancing my mental health fell off my radar. What is so obvious to me now was inconceivable at the time- the life I was living simply didn’t fit who I was (and am), and no amount of forcing would change that.

Although the year to come held similar scenarios, these were all steps in the realization that self-acceptance was the missing puzzle piece to all my problems. I needed to accept that I didn’t have it all together- to accept that at times I was falling apart.

I needed to accept that I wasn’t passionate about my major and to face the reality that college athletics put me emotionally and mentally at risks higher than I could handle. I needed to accept that part of growing into the person I am meant to be, would mean letting go of what everyone told me I was. This acceptance was the beginning to some of the most tumultuous and rewarding growth I could have imagined.

Although piecing together the answers to beating anxiety may be something only more time, growth, and changes can heal, acceptance is now the ingredient to beginning to embrace these changes with love for myself, and the journey I am on.