Change

I am a very sentimental person. As such, I typically don't deal well with change. I'm not talking about small change like a moved exam date or adjustments to the MTA schedule (although who hasn't had a minor freakout over this at least once?)--with these, I can roll with the punches. But major changes?--these tend to leave me clinging like a petulant child.

This Saturday marks my last day as a Division I volleyball player. It's a day that, for years, I thought I would welcome eagerly. Finally! I have time for a life! Now that the day actually approaches, though, I'm about as eager for it to arrive as the Angel of Death.

Perhaps it seems dramatic, but I do feel like I am experiencing a small death--the death of a piece of my identity. I've been playing volleyball since I was ten years old. Since ten years old, I had something that I could always rely on to take up my time. I was busy and I liked it. In fact, I think a huge part of the reason I've continued to play volleyball is that it simply gives me something to do. Naturally, then, the thought of not playing ever again, of not being busy, is a little scary. What is going to fill that void? Where am I going to put that time? What do we do when a part of our life is wrenched away from us and we're not ready to let go?

My answer: try something new. Sure, you're allowed your few days of wallowing; but eventually you have to get up from the couch, shower and keep going. Take up a new activity. Plan a road trip. Start a blog. After all, what better a time to work on your bucket list than right now?