Back home, there are five small evergreen trees that line the edge of our garden. Once eight in number, the trees are just a fraction of their expected height and their difference between four years ago and now goes largely unnoticed.
By just looking at me, you’d probably struggle finding much of a difference in my appearance during my four years at Bradley. I assure you though, the person that crept in the backdoor at the start of freshman year is far different than the senior that’ll march out the front in the coming weeks.
To answer those burning questions: yes, peanuts still continue their 22-year reign over my immune system, treading water still puzzles me and I refuse to accept that it’s “play it by ear” and not “play it by year.”
My introduction to campus was clouded by anxiousness and concern. I was worried about looking cool right away and every racing heartbeat pulsing from my chest told me I wasn’t ready for the big stage.
I didn’t know how to make friends, how classes would function or even how to pronounce my roommate’s name correctly. How would I, a timid homebody stripped of the familiar gravel lanes and cornfields, withstand a lively campus where you were rarely alone?
To survive, I set my sights on creating friendships. Long had I struggled with accomplishing this in junior high and high school, but I was determined that with two strikes on me, I’d be able to turn the count in my favor.
Breakfast introductions at Geisert Dining Hall became a daily occurrence for myself and the poor souls I awkwardly trapped into the “Hi, I’m a freshman and I need friends” elevator pitch. After convincing a few to stick with me over time, surely with my trademark charm, divine looks and strong wit, I had conquered the enemy that long evaded my pursuit.
Gaining more confidence by the day, I continued evolving over the course of my college career. I began to play pickup basketball games at Markin with strangers much taller and stronger than myself. I joined clubs, attended athletic events and even found the courage to crack a few jokes in class with my new friends.
I was slowly beginning to find the confidence in myself to chase my goals.
I joined The Scout the fall of my sophomore year because I was looking for a group that could forward my progression in sports communication. To that point, I hadn’t done much in the field outside of teasing Dr. Dickhaus about the pre-Joe Burrow Cincinnati Bengals in our COM 160 class.
As I got some light experience that fall, it became evident quite early in the process that writing was what I wanted to do. I enjoyed everything about covering sports and wanted desperately to continue doing it in the future, but as I told other people’s stories, I decided to write my own as well.
With endless amounts of keyboard clicks through the night, I wrote of mental blocks that continued to evade me, past events I still was held up by and dreams I desperately wanted to make a reality. Through dealing with each topic, I visualized how little those negatives were and how each was delaying me from reaching my potential. That was the turning point.
As the document eventually hit the virtual trash can, I was allowed to finally reach the summit of my college experience. Sideline armbands, media passes and countless other relics now adorn my wall to give me a constant reminder of what’s available when you take the next step forward.
No matter how many friendships I’ve made, athletes I covered or classes I passed, I had to dig deep inside and look past the rearview mirror to take my first step forward. When I began to focus on the windshield in front of me, I hardly ever missed a new opportunity.
So, yeah, I may still look like the perfect candidate for an SPF 75 commercial, but I’ve grown in ways that aren’t noticeable on the surface. You may not see it now, but I do each time I step outside with my head held high.
I’m confidently myself, and I had to grow a lot to see that.
