Senior soccer player, journalism major reflects on career, future

A huge chapter of my life has ended.

I have been asked by numerous people – family, friends, journalists – within these past few months to describe the feeling, to express my emotions, to ''paint a picture'' for others to understand how I feel about being done playing competitive soccer.

Every time I try explaining the feeling, the words never come out right; I struggle to truly express how I feel because honestly, I don't know how to describe the feeling.

Soccer isn't just a huge part of my life, it is my life.

No one forced it on me – I was not one of those kids that had their parents dictate everything for them and constantly force them into various extracurricular activities.
I played because I love it.

I am obsessed with the game.

The struggles and life-changing events I have faced to get to this place in my life today are incredible. And I didn't even realize the true impact the game has had on me until my parents gave me a 5-pound scrapbook overfilled with memories of my journey.

Sitting in between my parents on the couch, the tears began to fall as I flipped through the memories.

From day one, I had the mindset of a forward. I had the drive and the desire to score and assist.

I had Mia Hamm posters plastered to my bedroom walls, and I dreamed of playing for the University of North Carolina Tar Heels.

I spent hours in the backyard, outside of practices, juggling and perfecting my rainbow kick. I learned how to bend a ball and constantly practiced so I, too, could be known for my corner kicks and free kicks like David Beckham.

I traveled across the nation and the world. From the high elevation of the Rocky Mountains to the hot, dry desert in the South, I played in an array of weather conditions. I went across seas and guest-played in a tournament with a Connecticut team in Germany when I was 16.

I played on the Colorado Olympic Development Program state team and had the incredible privilege of making it to the Regional Camp in Idaho, where I got the opportunity to try out for the western regional team.

I played intercollegiate soccer.

This is in no way me trying to brag about my accomplishments – it is a reflection; it is what helps me continually try to describe the feelings of being done with such a huge part of my life.

The last game of my career, my team lost in double-overtime in the pouring rain in Duluth, Minn. When that final whistle blew, I walked out to the middle of the field and broke down. I was completely by myself, soaking wet, freezing and crying on the field.

I don't remember how long I was out there, but it wasn't until I realized my teammates had taken off their gear, cleared the field and went to shower before the long seven-hour bus ride home that I realized I was alone.

If it weren't obvious already by my reaction, I am an emotional person – so the loved ones in my life had been preparing themselves all season long for emotional outbreaks, endless tears and constant reassurances that ''it's going to be okay.'' But no one was prepared for how I actually responded.

I stopped crying as soon as I left the field. I didn't speak.

I showered and got on the bus without talking to anyone. My phone had missed calls and text messages from family and friends assuring me that they were available to talk whenever I was ready.

IPod blasting in my ears, I sat on the bus in silence for four hours before I decided to pick up my frantically distressed phone.

I apologized for being M.I.A., and then came the inevitable question that I have been asked constantly since that day – ''How do you feel?''

A quick and easy breakdown of the past few months: I repressed my feelings, I tried to explain them and I took unexpected and unnecessary anger out on the people I care about the most.

And then I created a new outlook.

I have discovered that I am not going to be able to express how I truly feel about the end of that part of my life, but I have also learned that I cannot stifle those feelings.

When it comes to the overall outlook on life, I have been known to constantly be positive. So I got out of my wallowing pity party and stopped taking suppressed, sudden anger out on people and turned it into a positive.

I loved playing soccer. I made incredible connections, saw incredible things and created unforgettable relationships, but all I can do from here is move forward – take what I have learned, embrace it and turn it into more, new positives.

Soccer will forever be a part of my life, and I know I don't have to stop playing – and I don't intend to – but a serious chapter of my life has been completed. But from here I can focus on the next chapter of my life – whatever it may hold.