Answer #2

Where do you do your best healing? 


I definitely don’t have a river court, but I do have a volleyball court. When I’m on the court, I’m there to play, nothing more, nothing less. When I play volleyball, my mind is zeroed in. There’s not much space to think about anything else because volleyball makes sense. You stand here to make  a dig, or you jump right now to go for a block. Each time I play, I get better at timing my jumps for off-sets and each time I practice, I get better at hitting. A good bump, a good set, and a great spike. There’s nothing more rewarding about getting all that down to an art. But, I don’t heal because I’m getting better; I heal because volleyball is familiar. 

On Sunday night, I took a trip down memory lane. I walked around the Bellaire Park and Bellaire High School sometime around 9pm. Sure, I’m pretty sure I was trespassing, but it was a nice reminder of where I’ve been. 6+ years ago, I was a high schooler with no idea what life had in store for me. I went to college with literally no expectations, and God decided to fill the void in my life that I never knew I had. As I was walking around reminiscing, I couldn’t help this nagging feeling that my life has changed so much. No, I’m not talking about moving from high school to A&M to UH. I’m talking about my own outlook on life – my desires, my wants, my passions. They’ve all changed and so have I. 

Volleyball never changes. I probably started getting into it sometime in high school at Camp Impact, but somehow it stayed with me through intramural and pick up games at the rec center. Now, volleyball is isolated to Saturdays at WHCC and Thursdays at CBC, but the game never changes. I change, and so does my life, but the game doesn’t. And I guess, that’s why I like it. In moments of extreme pain or sadness, like right now, volleyball is one thing that is constant and fulfilling. Perhaps you’ve never felt the joy of making a perfect pass or spiking the 10-foot line, but if you did, you would know how I feel. I guess in that sea of familiarity and comfort, I begin to swim again. And once I can swim again, I can see that there is beauty that can rise out of pain and sadness. 

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