I come from a family that had a lot of 'success' in titles. My mom had a feature written about her in Sports Illustrated and held national records, so I grew up seeing all of her medals and trophies. My dad was a captain of the football team in college, a Captain in the Navy and a dentist, My uncle held a national record for the most consecutive extra points in college football. My brother graduated with honors from the University of Texas, then went on to a Master's and Ph.D. So, I have all of these people that have had immense success, and for me, I felt my only worth was in achieving a similar status.
All this to say, I felt an immense level of expectation, one of which was trying to win State at something -- anything. I won State in track and field at a young age, and when I was 12, I had the fastest 1500 meter time in the country. I was a big fish in a small pond. I would play football on Friday night, then wake up the next morning and run a cross country meet. I'd jump straight out of that and into basketball, then track and field, and I'd leave that to go to baseball. Rinse, repeat. I was always regimented. But it got to a point where it was not fun for me, and I felt the pressure of everything that I thought my family wanted me to do; to the point where, at a track workout one day, I ran full speed and hit my dad as hard as I could. I think that was a turning point in my life. It was the first time in my life that I expressed how I was feeling, even though I didn't know how to express it.
I dropped out of college with 14 hours left until I graduated. I just couldn't do it. I was extremely suicidal and suffered from extremely high anxiety and severe depression. Looking back, every research paper I wrote in college was based on suicide - one of my papers was called 'A Reason to Live.' There's a psychiatrist named Viktor Frankl who wrote a book about what he observed as a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps. The people that lived had some type of attachment to something, which was the driving force behind how they endured such incomprehensible conditions. That idea helped me reorient myself on my search for belonging and attachment. The reason I'm telling you this is because everyone has their own story. This is mine.