The moment my foot stepped on the court, my alter ego stepped in. She was not quiet and much more confident. She had a family she could count on everyday after school from 5:30-7:30 P.M.

“I got it!” I said as the ball came straight at me. The feeling of getting a perfect pass filled my body and a smile rushed over my face as the ball went perfectly to Abby (our setter) and straight to Elsa, who slammed the ball down. We came to huddle and gave each other a pat on the back, and there I was again at the serving line. 

Off the court, I found myself always second guessing myself, and my favorite part of volleyball was this whole idea that I did not have time to do so. Everything happened so quickly that there was no time to second guess myself. In my day to day life I felt so small, yet on the court I felt like I had a purpose. I was given something I did not feel like I had before. I was happy and I felt as if I belonged. On the court, I knew exactly who I was and what to do. Serve, dig the ball, repeat. And on rare occasions, hit the ball, which did not happen often as I only played back row. 

“Mom, I want to play volleyball,” I said as a third grader who knew very little, yet at the same time, I was wise. Who knew making this decision would be so amazing for me as I grew older. I went to a small Catholic school in SF, and I was there from kindergarten through eighth grade. The school had around 150-200 kids and so I knew pretty much everyone. I think part of me not feeling like I belong in some aspects of life comes from being in such a small school for most of my life. 

At St. John’s, I did not have to try and make friends, because my whole class were my friends. And through volleyball, me and my girl-friends built tighter friendships, as pretty much every girl in my class played. That is what volleyball has always given me, friendships.

In the beginning of my senior year, I was in a relationship and let’s just say it was not the healthiest and most stable. I never hung out with friends, and not to say I did not cherish the time spent with him, but I was isolated. But, even though I sometimes felt very alone, volleyball was always there for me. 

Volleyball was my little safe bubble. I had no other worries and even though I was distant from my friends, I always had my volleyball family. It gave me the clarity I never got in my life and made me feel like I had a genuine purpose. 

It never hit me how big an impact volleyball made on my life until one day I talked about it with my therapist. Outside of volleyball, I had become broken down and felt powerless due to my toxic relationship. I was constantly doubting my worth and silencing myself during this time. 

Jennifer (my therapist) asked me, “When do you feel powerful?” I sat in my desk chair thinking for a while, not really knowing what to say. The only thing that came to mind was when I was on the court, playing volleyball. 

Everyday in practices and games I was reminded that it was okay for me to take up space and use my voice. These were things I was not in my relationship. The best part of volleyball is you kind of have to do those things. That was perfect for me. It pushed me to be loud, because I had to, and then it became natural. 

If you looked at me on the court versus off the court, you would think it was two different people. I was loud and genuinely happy. Many people have even told me that if I acted how I did on the court, my life would feel better and more genuine. But it’s not as easy said than done. 

It is weird to think that being in different environments can bring out a different version of myself. Why can I not just be as confident as I am on the court? I guess that just isn’t the way life works. 

After not playing for a while, I realized how much I took it for granted. It truly was not just a game for me, but a big part of my life and a major contributor to my happiness. The family I made from it will forever be a great memory, and it taught me so many great lessons, and helped me try to build my confidence outside of volleyball.