I was simply going through the motions of recovery.

I was doing my part away from my physical therapist.

I began to think I will never be back to where I had worked my way up to for the past two years and wanted to just give up. I was feeling the most unmotivated I’ve ever been. 

During my first starting varsity game my sophomore year, I had been playing for 15 minutes when I dribbled the ball past the midfield and up to the defender. Little did I know, the player I passed was following right behind me. I can still remember the feeling of the two players sandwiching me.

My leg caught in between them  and twisted, as my body hit the ground. My left knee snapped. Hearing the pop, I was a little concerned but attempted to stand again. Reality seared through me, as I fell again, holding my knee in the tucked position.

The game stopped. Coaches ran on the field with the trainers. I straightened my knee with agonizing pain. The trainers did all the tests and decided that I had sprained my ACL. I sat for the rest of the game. 

Walking out of the Shiloh Football Stadium on my own was out of the question, so my parents took me to the emergency room at Arkansas Children’s Hospital. I waited all night for answers but only received the fact that my kneecap was not broken. After scheduling the appointment to get my ACL checked, we left.

I went back to school and practices but was incapable of joining in because my leg would continuously give out every few movements I made. I couldn’t figure out how to walk very well without the feeling of fragility within the entire left leg. I couldn’t control my lower leg. I felt as though I was useless to the people around me.

I had let my team down, my coach down, was becoming a burden to the family, and was not able to be there for my friends. I had begun to fall short of the expectations I had and was failing to do the simple things for the people in my life. Following all of the doctors appointments, I received some answers. I immediately began to bawl in the surgeon’s office at the news. I had torn my ACL, along with my medial meniscus. I needed surgery promptly. 

We met with a specialized surgeon and got on his schedule. We discussed the recovery plan and how I would proceed after. The day of the surgery felt like doomsday. I don’t remember anything except for the immense pain that shot up my leg when the medicine wore off. 

Eventually I was to the point where I could walk again and start the rehabilitation process. I hit roadblocks and mental blocks, each time feeling as though I would never recover. Once I finally was cleared to return to the field, I felt a popping sensation and heard a crunchy noise, coming from under my kneecap. I felt a shooting pain in my knee, as the swelling pushed my meniscus out of the set place.

I finally got put on medicine that allowed the fluid in my knee that causes the swollenness to dry out. I am back to regular practice, but I struggle mentally to trust my body to not give up on me. 

I cannot just go through the motions. I will get back to the level I was at prior to my surgery. I will do my part.