More Than My Division: An Athlete’s Struggle With Self-Worth

By Charlize Wolf | IG: charlize.wolf

Ever since I first started playing lacrosse I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it. There have been points in my life where I never wanted to pick up my stick again and points where I couldn't put it down. Though there were many times when quitting the sport I’ve played since first grade was at the forefront of my mind, my sport was still there for me. Lacrosse has been there for me more than any friend I’ve ever had. When all my relationships withered and I was at my lowest point, my sport stuck with me. If I wanted to play or not, I’ve always had an outlet, and I’ve always gone back to it. There are many things I have struggled with growing up as a student-athlete. From balancing academics, sports, family and friends, to having a healthy relationship with food and my body image. There have been points in the many seasons I’ve played where I felt I could no longer continue to play. My motivation to go to each practice, conditioning, lift, and game was absent. My schoolwork, homelife, social life, and lacrosse schedule consumed me and I felt like I was out of control. Though, when I would give myself a break from my hectic agenda, a huge wave of guilt came over me. I felt I was letting my teammates and coaches down. There were times where I was so captivated by my restless life, that I could do nothing but cry. My breakdowns were sporadic and triggered by small things like my hair not cooperating. And though my inconsistent, unpredictable feelings of burnout are difficult, the thing I have struggled with the most is my decision to continue at a collegiate level. The recruiting process is one of the worst things an athlete goes through and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. From a young age I had always dreamt of playing lacrosse in college. I also thought I was going to be the first woman president, but being a collegiate lacrosse player was a more realistic goal of mine. The first time I was on a travel team was at the ripe age of 8, I can’t remember much, but I do remember how hard I was on myself. One game, I played defense at the time, and I had missed a slide, the game was tied and the girl scored. I sobbed for 30 minutes. As an 8 year old, missing a crash was the end of the world. As I’ve grown as an athlete my parents and coaches have taught me not to take complete responsibility for a loss, a win, or anything in between. Committing to play a sport at a collegiate level is a completely different scenario. It’s no longer a team effort, but an individual effort. It is up to the athlete to commit to play their sport at a collegiate level. That was a scary fact, the future of my lacrosse career was up to me, my coaches and parents could only help so much. I had to play and present my best. The amount of anxiety before every game heightened because of the coaches lined up on the sidelines and the pressure to play well for film. Personally, throughout the years my answer to the question, “Do you want to play in college?”, has never been consistent. At a young age I believed I was destined to play for Stony Brook University, then University of North Carolina, then University of Richmond, and so on and so forth. I had never heard of anyone going to play at a D2 or D3 school. Coaches and social media highlighted only the Division 1 athletes. And because of this, “D1 or die'' was my mindset. Anytime I felt I wasn't skilled enough to go onto play Division 1 lacrosse I thought it would be easier to either quit entirely, or not play in college, than to not go D1. Now that I have gone through the emotionally and physically exhausting process that is recruitment, and have verbally committed to play Division 3 lacrosse, there are many things I still struggle with. Before I decided on Western Connecticut State University, or even had my first offer, I remember watching my closest friends and past teammates commit to their schools. I remember thinking, “Am I falling behind?”, “Am I not good enough?”, “What am I doing wrong?”. It was all so confusing, there were so many questions and so little answers. I traveled countless miles and emailed countless schools to find my perfect match. I got ghosted by schools, and led on, and maybe some schools feel that way about me. Every time a coach said they were “going to go a different way with their attack spot”, or that they were “uninterested”, my confidence in my decision to play in college shrunk and so did my passion for lacrosse. I had anxiety about picking the wrong school, and never being wanted by a program. After I had narrowed my options by location, division, and size. I decided it was extremely important for me to be able to play, and I didn't want to wait until my junior year behind 6 players who were better than me. I wanted to have a chance at playing my freshman year, so I looked at D2 and D3’s. Division 2 programs are slim pickings, but Division 3 programs are everywhere. My family is on Long Island, and I love everything that has to do with the Northeast. I also wanted to be able to know people on campus without knowing everybody. After many nerve-racking phone calls with coaches and programs, I finally found Western Connecticut State University and decided it was the school for me, a whole new wave of anxiety came over me. Not only for the messages I would have to send to the other programs interested in me but for what other people would think. Everyone had always expected me to go D1 or D2, was I letting them down by going D3? I feared what people would say and think after my post to declare my commitment on social media. I felt that my commitment did not matter as much to other people because of the division. I still struggle with my self-worth and comparing myself to my teammates and other players. And I am constantly trying to prove myself to my peers and spectators. I am trying to prove to myself, with the help of my coaches, family, friends, and teammates, that I am more than my division and my decision not to go D1 doesn't mean that I am less valuable or talented than a D1 athlete.