Granger B.
If you’re reading this, know that even dead ends can turn into roads.
I always felt like I was on a chase. Chasing satisfaction and fulfillment from every avenue. As I grew up, the avenues that I sought answers from changed frequently. Whether it was with parents, teachers, coaches, friends, relationships, or athletics, I was desperate for connections that might provide the “cure” I needed.
The chase drove me, both as a student and as an athlete. If I could reach this level, I would be happy. If I got this grade, I would be satisfied. If I swam this fast, I would be worthy. My passion was fueled by a desire to control my life and its outcomes. I could be like everyone else, and if I wasn’t, I just needed to try a little harder.
Chasing control doesn’t guarantee the peace you’re hoping for. At the start of high school, this plan seemed to work just fine, externally at least. I had friends, I was getting recruited, and I had it comfortable. But I was miserable. The same things that were going great externally left me dissatisfied. I would often lie in bed at night, wondering what I could do differently to feel better about myself. How could I have everything I wanted and still not feel good about who I was?
As quickly as success came, it left even quicker. I stopped achieving personal bests in the pool, and I lost friends and close relationships. I couldn’t understand for the life of me why it was happening. I told myself that I needed to work harder and dig deeper.
Fast forward to my senior year. I hadn’t swum personal bests since the beginning of high school, and many of my friends had graduated, leaving me behind. I was out of shape, I’d fallen out of love with my sport, and I felt I had no one to lean on. The harder I tried to control, the more out of control I felt.
Funnily enough, the same chase and drive that pushed me to be recruited to swim collegiately had been the same arrogance that was ruining my outlook on life. Whether you believe in a higher power or not, it wasn’t until I truly surrendered the reins of my life to God that I felt relief. For you, that may be called fate, or the universe, or something else altogether, but for me, I found my problems fading as I began to realize who was truly in control.
I watched my life transform around me. I made new friends, I got in shape, and I was finally myself in the pool again. In my last championship meet in high school, I had seven races. All seven were best times. If that’s not from the divine, I don’t know what is.
As I’ve started this next chapter at UNC, it’s been tough. Training is hard, there are new friends and new beginnings, and teachers never cease to amaze with their requirements. But I know that I will continue to thrive as I remember who oversees my life. I’m merely a vessel, and someone else is the captain.
If you see me on campus, feel free to ask me about it. There’s plenty more to the story, and I’m thankful for it all. I’m still chasing every day, but now I’m chasing with trust.
Granger B., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
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