The sand scorched my palms as I dragged myself over the endless dunes of the Sahara Desert. What I saw ahead of me must have been a mirage, but it seemed so real. Could it be? It was an upturned Frisbee filled to the brim with water, glistening in the hot sun. I scurried to it, eager to find any form of relief in this mind-numbing trek through the miserable abyss. As I sipped from the disc, I saw the horizon. There was hope. Frisbee saved my life.

Well, not exactly.

When I was in high school, I would wake up every morning wishing that I didn't exist. I would drive to school and fantasize about crashing my '93 Corolla into a telephone pole. I would space out in class imagining how the lives of everyone I knew would be vastly improved if I had never met them. I would join after school activities hoping to fill the void that had come to consume me with no success. I had everything going for me - I was smart, I was involved, I was on a varsity sports team, I was prom queen, I was class president, I had amazingly supportive friends and family, and I wanted to kill myself.

I was living from Saturday to Saturday because it was then that my friends had started organizing pick-up games of Ultimate Frisbee. From the first time I joined in on the disc-throwing antics, I could feel the weight of my depression being lifted off of my shoulders.

Never-before-seen footage of my Frisbee training

For the most part, I had no idea what was going on, and that's what made it so much fun. My skill level was limited to waving my arms and running in circles. The first Saturday that I joined the pick-up game, I found myself unguarded in the end zone, as I was the opposite of an offensive threat. I was bewildered and ready for the first successful catch of my Ultimate Frisbee career when I saw the Frisbee zipping towards me. And then it hit me. After slipping through my inexperienced fingers, the disc smacked me square in the face. But with what coordination I could summon in my frenzied attempt to not fail my team, I managed to pin the disc to my face with my hands, scoring. I threw my head back as I laughed, collapsing in the mud, as my teammates and friends rushed to congratulate me on such an epic play.

The culture of Ultimate Frisbee is such that it fosters supportive communities that strive to invoke the "Spirit of the Game" in all who choose to play. Everyone is playing to have fun, and there is no pressure to perform at maximum capacity. It was on the Frisbee field chasing after the disc that I would find myself carefree and laughing, happy to be alive.

How it feels when you realize life isn't the worst

While high school was a wasteland of despair for me, I was able to find an oasis in Ultimate Frisbee. Now at Colgate, I act as a captain of our Women's Ultimate team, The Vibe, and I could not have ever imagined how happy being a part of this team would make me. Frisbee continues to play an important role in my life, and I'm always excited to share my love for the game with anyone interested. While I don't want to say I'm out here saving lives by spreading the gospel of Ultimate Frisbee, I do hope that becoming a part of the Frisbee family can provide a nice respite for anyone who is out there trudging through their own Sahara Desert, and I encourage anyone struggling with depression to keep moving forward as your own disc full of water might be closer than it seems.