Broken Dreams
From the youngest of ages we’re told to dream big, that the world is there for the taking and that it’s up to us to shape it into whatever reality we want it to be. Maybe these statements are hyperbolic and are meant to be taken as motivation rather than literal advice to live our lives by. Nonetheless, I’ve always tried to live up to those ideas: I dream big and keep an ever present hope that, in whatever I do, I’ll be able to achieve great things.
Throughout my life I’ve participated in many sports ranging from soccer to gymnastics to even karate. These “hobbies” never worked out though as I never really came to enjoy them and I felt like dedicating large amounts of time to these sports was a waste of time. I never reached that point where I felt like it was possible to dream big, to dream of major success and achievement. Consequently, I remember joining my first swim club as a seven year old, unable to even keep myself afloat on the water, thinking to myself that swimming would be another thing that my mom had signed me up for just to keep me active. However, there was something different about swimming, something that I couldn’t necessarily put my finger on. I didn’t particularly enjoy jumping into the frigid water and I absolutely despised missing out on playdates with my friends because of practice. Nonetheless, something kept me coming back to it, a feeling that I hadn’t experienced in my other sports endeavors. I had a strange feeling this time around that my effort may actually amount to something.
A couple of weeks passed, then a few months, and there was notable improvement in both my speed and technique. However, practicing only once a week inherently could only take my ability so far. Every Thursday after school I’d swim laps with the same kids, some older than me, some younger, and all content with the fact that they only had to swim once a week. I, however, was unsatisfied. The stagnant nature of the swim club, doing the same workouts every week with no chance of actually becoming better at swimming, frustrated me, so much so that I tried out for the swim team. Being offered a spot on that team was one of the most nerve-racking, exciting, and intimidating moments of my early life, all in one. This moment signaled a change in the type of person that I would set out to be. Unlike my approach to soccer or gymnastics, I wouldn’t settle for mediocrity. Now, I was willing to dedicate myself to perfecting this craft.
So, with this shift in my life, I began to dream. My aspirations soared to new heights, though disproportionately to my abilities. Being one of both the newest and youngest members on the team, I often languished in the back of our lanes during practice. I had to put in twice the effort as the other swimmers to hit the same times. Even at competitions, my coaches didn’t trust me enough to put me into the relays. Instead, I was put into the slowest heats, awaiting that moment where I’d finally be able to prove myself. Regardless of how much slower I may have been compared to everyone else, I was never deterred from coming home from meets and practices and watching back the same “Michael Phelps Best Races” compilations on Youtube for inspiration. It never stopped me from watching the Olympics and dreaming of one day standing on those starting blocks, blocking out the ear-piercing cheers of the spectators watching on, and finally proving that I was worthy of gold.
Throughout the following ten years that I put into the water, there were many highs and lows. My friend Jason, though, really compounded my feelings on the sport when he affirmed that “The highs aren’t as high as they seem and the lows aren’t as low as they seem.” I loved traveling to places such as Virginia, Pennsylvania, and upstate New York to compete at the highest levels. It was rewarding to race people who were nationally ranked swimmers. It was invigorating to feel validated in my pursuit of greatness, especially considering the many doubts I’d had over the years over whether my dreams were truly achievable. Still, those minor bouts of enjoyment were far outnumbered by weeks and even months of stress, stress about balancing both school and sport, stress about performing poorly at competition, and most prominently, stress about letting myself down. It just didn’t feel worth it anymore. The passion, that indescribable link that I’d initially felt with swimming, was gone.
Stepping away from swimming was the hardest decision that I’ve made in my life and it was a very painful one at that. The pandemic gave me time to finally sit down and realize what I really wanted for myself. Did I want to continue burning myself out in the name of a goal I didn’t even know if I wanted to reach anymore? Quarantine allowed me to candidly reflect on all of my thoughts and struggles, leading me to my ultimate decision: I finally decided to quit on my dreams. Honestly, it felt like my years of training had gone down the drain. I’d missed so many experiences with friends and family, I’d lost so many hours of sleep and studying to swim and now, I had nothing to show for it. It was devastating and I won’t shy away from calling it the greatest regret of my life. I didn’t share much about these feelings with anyone because I knew that my parents and my friends wouldn’t understand. I knew that you wouldn’t really understand either. Instead of going off to college like I did, you just ended up staying at home and on the swim team, ready to jump back into the pools the moment they reopened. I couldn’t do that though. I’d broken my bond with swimming. I’d given up my dreams, I’d failed my own ambitions, and I was alone in understanding this feeling.
It’s taken a lot of time to process the decision. While my decision isn’t as prominent in my mind and difficult to comprehend as it once was, it still comes back to haunt me every once in a while, and why wouldn’t it? Swimming was such a major part of my life and it left a crater in its wake. Having to deal with the issue on my own for so long made it hard for me to believe that two of my friends here at BC, Delyse and Jason, had experienced similar emotions. Delyse played the violin for eight years before coming to Boston College. However, she wasn’t ready for the commitment needed to perform in college and chose to give it up, in a manner that paralleled my own line of thinking. Similarly, Jason is a member of the Boston College football team and has dedicated himself to trying to fulfill his dreams of playing in the NFL. That’s why I understood him when he told us “I sometimes feel like I’m letting my dad down. When he was my age he was already in the military and I sometimes feel like giving up everything and telling myself none of this matters.” In these moments I truly empathized with my newfound friends. The feeling of not being good enough to achieve our dreams resonated with me and knowing that they both understand that feeling and have even fought through it comforts me.
More than anything, though, what amazes me is how they’ve both coped with the thought of failing, of falling short of their dreams. When I asked Jason if he thought about playing in the NFL, he told me “I’d like to. That’s what I’m hoping for. Being at BC I know I have a chance but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t make it. Back home I remember there being a really good food truck. That’d be a really cool thing for me to do. I’d love to bring people together with the food and just have fun with it.” It astounded me how nonchalant Jason was in realizing that his dreams may not come true. Here I was, distressed because I hadn’t gotten to fulfill my dreams, and yet Jason, who is closer to achieving his dreams than I ever was, was completely realistic about his own abilities and prospects.
Delyse also told me something that really stood out to me. A couple of years ago she was in a horrible car crash and the doctors told her that she probably shouldn’t have made it. With a new lens on life, Delyse explained “I had a fear of getting in cars for the next few months. I also had a new appreciation for my friends and everything after that. But it didn’t last for very long, I think a few months. After that I kinda came back to reality.” What stuck with me the most from both Jason and Delyse was how remarkably grounded in reality they both were. Jason, while so close to living his dreams and making the NFL, understands that there is life without making it to professional football. Delyse, who after her traumatic experience had good reason to never get in a car again, understands that we need to move on eventually. It’s not practical to live our lives with our heads in the clouds, holding onto something from the past. As much as I had feared the idea of doing so, Delyse and Jason helped me realize that it was time to move on.
So my dream of becoming an internationally recognized swimmer has not come true. The harsh reality is that it won’t come true. Time, of course, has helped to heal and edge me towards realizing this but even being away from it for so long, I continued harbouring hopes of one day coming back to swimming and making it. In fact, my first time swimming since stepping away was here at BC’s pool and I really missed it. Dragging my completely out-of-shape self through the water, I again started to entertain illusions of my return to swimming. However, what was different here from six months ago was that I quickly brought myself back to the ground. My conversations with Delyse and Jason may not have gotten rid of my regrets but they did help me understand the importance of being realistic. Hearing their respective experiences helped me understand that I’m not the only one to have given up something they had poured so much time into.
Not everything we hope or want to happen will happen and while that may be disappointing, especially for people like us who’ve dedicated so much time towards their dreams, it’s only when we understand this that we can move forward. So, I’ll continue to watch and enjoy the Olympics but this time I’ll be fine with imagining myself being in the crowd instead of on the blocks. I’ll continue dreaming of doing great things in whatever I choose to pursue in life but this time around I’ll realize that I’ll have to give up some dreams in order to pursue other ones. Above all, though, I’ll continue to look at your times and instead of feeling jealous that you continued to swim and I didn’t, I’ll be happy at the thought that I was once faster than you. I’ll be cheering for you from the bleachers instead of from the pool like I once did and despite the contrasting paths that life has chosen to send us on, I’ll be happy to see you succeed in a dream that was once mine. Meanwhile, it’s time for me to find a new dream to pursue and to finally fill the void that swimming left me with.
Sebo's Sanctuary 