Faces of Disbelief

“I can be your hero baby”

I had never been to a funeral before September 11, 2001. I imagined funeral services were similar to the candlelight vigils I attended on the evening of the most horrific terrorist attack in our nation’s history. The crowds gathered in the fellowship hall and grassy hills on the outskirts of campus told a story none of us would ever forget. The faces of disbelief, the somber tears and the mournful eyes of so many people were akin to a funeral service.

At eight o’clock in the morning on September 11, I strolled into my first class of the day at Fredonia State University. The first two weeks of freshman year had been fantastic.  One and a half hours later, I walked out of English Composition to a changed world. I left behind the innocence and safety of a pre-911 existence. Students on the sidewalk were sobbing into each other’s shoulders. Strangers were quieter than usual. I looked to my side, where my freshman friend, Megan, was just as puzzled as me. After passing several people on the way back to my dorm room in Nixon Hall, I began to have a sick feeling in my stomach. Something had happened, but I wasn’t sure what. An Asian student stopped me on the way into my dorm and told me what had happened in New York City and the Pentagon. I didn’t realize the immensity of the situation until I clicked on the tiny television in my room. My roommate was still sleeping, so I kept the volume low. It wasn’t long before my roommate was awake and the entire floor was tuning into the events as they unfolded.

I immediately emailed my mother at home to ask about my father. My father worked in Manhattan, blocks away from the twin towers. Thoughts shifted to his safety as I began to worry about more attacks. The college announced the cancellation of classes for the remainder of the day. Everyone was excited at first, but the mood on campus was soon altered. The impact was just being felt. September 11^th brought people together. I didn’t get along with my roommate, but on that day, I did. I attended two vigils and met up with my tennis teammates and coach to pray. My tennis family was the closest thing I had to a family in college. We all stuck together. My dad didn’t get home until late that Tuesday evening. He had to take a ferry during the mass exodus out of the city.  September 11^th was like a funeral service for me. The faces of disbelief and sadness are hard to forget. I will never forget English Composition or walking to my room that September morning. Even after ten years, the images are as recent as if they just happened.

“Hold me in your arms tonight”

Netphobia

“Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?”

There’s an important lesson to be learned about fear. I used to be fearful of coming to the net during my singles matches. I stayed at the baseline after a serve and reverted back after short approach shots. The baseline is (arguably) safe. It’s where you can see the entire court, on both sides of the net. To me, the baseline is where I play my best tennis. Then why is it all I’ve heard from coaches, opponents and teammates is how great I play at the net? Sometimes we need others to point out to us where we excel. Through the years, I’ve gotten comfortable coming to net. It wasn’t easy at first, and I’ve failed on several occasions to put away points at net. I can now serve and volley with confidence. I follow my approach shots with forceful overhead smashes. Net play has made my singles game an effective advantage. All it took to overcome my fear was a little trust and a deep breath.

The fear of failure is not a good reason to hold back. I see this every day. A little boy clings to his mother near the pool at my apartment complex. He’s no older than five years and is afraid of the water. You can see the thought-provoking process he’s enduring as the water rests as still as a sleeping baby.  Even as his own mother coaxing him into stepping down the shallow ladder, he’s pulling back. How is it we develop trust when we depend so heavily on the instinctive fears that drive our emotions? The answer lies in holding our breath and finding the courage to trust ourselves. Try it next time you’re afraid. I’ve found it works in all situations. Almost.

One fear I’m afraid I may never overcome is the fear of losing. I can handle losing a game, but losing people is a different arena. It’s not until you lose someone you love that you realize what a crippling fear losing someone can be. The fear is so crippling you’re afraid you’ll never find the strength to overcome it. Where do you find the strength? I’ve found there isn’t a secret formula.  I guess you just live each day as if you have nothing to lose…as if you already lost it all. In other words, sometimes the only way to overcome our fears is to go with them. Admit they exist and hurt, and accept them. It’s like a partner in tennis who cheats on line calls. If you don’t have a line judge to interfere, you accept the bad calls, even if they hurt. Stare down fear and it won’t overtake you. Count your blessings. Always.

“Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don’t care.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vI4tBO_boB4