[That's a picture of me and my friends from 2011. Back in the good ol' times when I wasn't the shortest.]

At my high school, it wasn’t difficult at all to get onto a sports team - all you had to do was scribble your name and grade onto a list and you were put onto the team. No try-outs or anything. The best and the worst both attended practice and games, and both were held to the same standard. I can’t speak for the “best” on the team but I was very much on the “worst” end of the spectrum, and it was so difficult to try to meet the same goals as my friends who seemed to excel. I quit the team during my junior year, it was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. But it was also one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and now that I can look back on the situation I see that it was a defining moment for who I was as a person.

Sixth grade. That’s how old you had to be to be to join the CCA soccer team. My friends and I all rushed to the sign-up sheet and scribbled in our names. We felt so proud of ourselves, so old and mature. Looking back, I don’t think they should have ever let any snot-nosed elementary students onto the same practice field as the seniors. But they did. The luster of the sport soon faded for me when I realized that I couldn’t run one lap around the field without feeling winded and that my best friend was already an actual all-star. I really shouldn’t have compared myself to him, but I was young and even stupider than I am right now.

But I endured the scorching-hot practices in late August and the absolutely freezing games in early November. Because the truth is that soccer taught me lessons and shaped me into the person that I am today. I remember in seventh grade when I was on the sideline with my three friends, and their mid-puberty voices sang and shrilled a song we had learned in Spanish class that day. I stood at attention, trying my best to block out my friends and just focus on the game - praying that my coach would just put me in for a minute. But my coach never put me in, he just shot us frustrated glances from time to time. Later I found out from my mom that my coach had intended on putting me into the game but had refrained because he assumed I was goofing off with the rest of my friends. I became even more independant that day, and I would pretty much avoid standing anywhere near my friends during games after that. That day was also the day that my tolerance for nonsense pretty much died completely.

I attended soccer camp Houghton College for a couple summers, the summers before 9th and 10th grades. I don’t wanna bash on the camp because I adore Houghton College and the all the soccer players I know are super cool - but that camp was NOT for me. In retrospect, I didn’t go to improve myself, I went to impress my coach. That was probably the root of the issue. The first year of camp was a struggle because I didn’t know anyone and my roommate was annoying and I was just awful at soccer and it was very apparent. The second year wasn’t much better because, although I did go with my friends, I got a semi-concussion on the first day. Because the trainers couldn’t determine if it was actually a concussion or not, I had to just sit out on the stands and try to manage a wicked headache as much as I could.

After the second round of soccer camp, I began to realize two things: 1) You can try and try and try and try to get better at something but sometimes you have to accept that you don’t have the aptitude for something and that’s okay and 2) I loved watching soccer, but I hated playing it. Which is weird and kind of difficult to explain to people.

It was the summer before my senior year and I had put a lot of thought into making the decision to leave the soccer team. I hadn’t signed up at the end of the soccer year, but my coach just assumed I was playing. That was kind of the curse of my small school: Once you were a part of a club or group, you were in it for good. But I knew I couldn’t handle it. Not only did I dread and hate playing, but it caused me so much anxiety. I didn’t need to put myself through that, especially because I was going to be involved with a lot of other groups as well as taking additional courses at the local community college. I called up my coach and told him that I had put a lot of thought into it and I decided I wouldn’t be able to be on the team this year - my senior year.

He seemed indifferent. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess it wasn’t for him to just say, “Oh.” But the more I talked to him the more he seemed to understand that I was looking out for my well-being and he was supportive of me. Of course he was disappointed that I wasn’t on his team anymore, but he knew it was majorly stressful for me and was proud that I was taking care of myself.

There were other parents and staff that didn’t support my decision as much. At one point I went to this backyard party that my friend was hosting and I walked in on a conversation between two parents who just couldn’t believe I would make such an outlandish decision like quitting the team. But I didn’t mind, actually, because I was taking care of myself. Of course it was hard to endure the talk that quickly filled the school (more small-school problems) but I learned then to stand up for myself and be confident in my decisions.

This isn’t me bashing on my school or my school’s soccer team. This isn’t me saying that everyone needs to go quit their soccer teams, either. In fact, embrace the difficult situation in your life because there’s so much you can learn. Honestly, I have nothing but love for my coach and the soccer team - and especially my school’s athletic director because she puts in the work to organize all the sports. I wasn’t meant to play soccer, and that’s alright. But my time on the team, and my experience leaving the team, taught me lessons that truly changed my life.