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- I sabotaged my progress through constant excuses and lack of effort, refusing to claim my rightful spot in the fast lane.
- Physical problems seemed real: goggle troubles and shoulder pain, even wishing for injury to avoid commitment.
- I couldn't trust myself to try, carrying a heavy burden of low self-worth until it was too late.
- Realization arrived after seasons lost; regret stemmed from choices, not circumstances.
- A single high school dance, satin periwinkle dress and stuffed shoes from T.J. Maxx, made the consequences painfully clear.
My truest taste of regret happened when I was just 16. I was a junior in high school and feeling fully overwhelmed by things I had no control over. That feeling came directly from living in a family unraveling at the seams, but I was too young to understand what was happening. My emotions were packaged up tightly, so I grabbed hold of things I did understand, and what I understood more than anything else was swimming.
I had been a competitive swimmer for almost all of my childhood. I had pushed my way near the top of my high school team, yet I was afraid to be there. I will never quite know if I was afraid of failing, afraid of being good or both. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t willing to live up to my full potential, and the worst part was that I knew it.
By the time I reached my third high school swim season, I was tired. I was tired of treading in one place, but mostly, I was tired of the lack of effort I was putting into the thing I loved. I couldn’t trust myself enough to try to be my best self, because there was no comfort in that. I carried a great burden because of my lack of self-worth, but I wouldn’t actually know that until much, much later — when I could no longer do anything about it.
I spent the entirety of my freshman and sophomore years of high school working tirelessly to dis-earn my spot in the lane with the fastest swimmers. I had goggle issues. I had shoulder problems. There were even moments when I quietly prayed I’d break my leg so I didn’t have to go to practice anymore.
But it wasn’t the swimming, the practices or even the racing or the other girls that was the problem. It was me.
However, as most things go, once I finally realized that, it was too late.
In the middle of my junior season, I went to a high school dance with a few other swimmer friends (the ones who actually longed to lead the lane) and my then-boyfriend. I wore a satin periwinkle above-the-knee dress with a velvet bodice and a matching cropped coat. I shoved tissues into the toes of my T.J. Maxx clearance rack patent-leather shoes because I had bought them a size too big. The night was supposed to be perfect.
But in the time that it takes to sneeze, everything changed.
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