Growing up, many kids will tell you that they are the things that they do.

"I'm a basketball player," they'll say. "I'm a writer, Wal-Mart employee, and student."

But we are not made up of the things that we do. Our personalities are shaped by them, but we are so much more than pawns in a giant game of chess.

We are complex creatures, composed of atoms and cells and the skin on our bones. But, more than that, we are made up of the things we love and the things we hate, what makes us happy and what makes us sad; the hardships we have been through and the dreams in our heads.

For a long time, I defined myself as simply a volleyball player. It was all I participated in while in high school, because I wanted so badly to be great at it. Ordinary wasn't enough. I would spend hours after classes at the gym and practices, and bypassed participating in other sports and clubs because I thought, if I sacrificed any time practicing volleyball, I wouldn't be successful.

I played on club teams and summer teams, and was known throughout the Northeastern corner of Colorado and panhandle of Nebraska as "the volleyball girl." The only thing people knew about me was that I loved the game, because that was all I let myself be.

I earned a scholarship to play at a school in South Dakota, living out my dreams as a collegiate athlete, and was successful, by freshman standards. Then, I suffered a season-ending shoulder injury in October. I thought it was the end of the world.

But it wasn't.

In the eight months I couldn't play, I found other things I enjoyed. I began writing, joined clubs, earned an internship at the local newspaper, and began volunteering. I found passions that I never would have otherwise.

When I began playing again in June, I still loved the game, but instead of it being the only thing I ever wanted to do, it was just one of many.

Then, in July, I got hurt again, this time, damaging nerves controlling the function of my right arm and forcing the end of my competitive volleyball career.

So many people around me questioned how I wasn't completely devastated, and the answer was simple. I am no longer simply a "volleyball player." I never was.

I am a person who loves volleyball. I am a person who also loves to write and read, and even go to classes. A person shaped by the personalities of the people she has loved, the crippling pain of loss, the joys of competition and success, the places she's been, and ambitions dreamed up in the 3 a.m. hour.

Moreover, I am a competitive, loving, self-proclaimed funny person, too complex to be defined by the games she plays and things she does, and I'm glad to have learned that while still in college, when I still have the time to decide who I want to be for the rest of my life.

College is the time for young adults to strip away the images of themselves created in high school, and chase every dream, especially those seemingly out of reach. It's a time to be athletes, but also be a person. Because, chances are, you won't be a gymnast, cello player, or party queen forever (and if you are, more power to you).

Enjoy the games, sports, and clubs because, when they're gone, you'll miss them, believe me. At the same time, also embrace that you are more than those things.

Someday, you'll walk away from the plaza at the center of your college's campus and be called upon to be somebody. Your college tenure will end and the rest of your life will begin.

So, take the time, now, while you can experiment, to figure out who that somebody is. Find what makes you excited to get out of bed in the mornings and get rid of the toxic influence of things that no longer serve you or help you grow.