But how…? When I have an anchor tied to my feet and it's pulling me to the bottom. When I am silently screaming for help, but no one hears me. When I finally get set free, but my body is too tired to fight my way back to the surface. I was done. I was defeated. I was drowning. So again, I ask, how?
 
"Tomorrow never comes"
I woke up every day wishing it was tomorrow, but it was only today. It'll only ever be today. And I HATED today. I hated today every day. Tomorrow was always bound to be better, except tomorrow never came. It was exhausting to think about. I'd pray for a sunny day, but little did anyone know I wasn't being literal, because even on the sunniest of days, it couldn't be cloudier. My days started running together. I woke up, I fought, I went to bed, and then repeated the next day. I was worn down. So, I proceeded to ask myself, where did I go wrong? How did I get to this point?
 
"I'm not crazy, you're crazy"
March 19, 2019. That's the day I walked into knee surgery. My mindset was positive going into it. I knew I'd be back on the court in no time. People doubted me because they said I was crazy for thinking this was minor. They were crazy. They didn't know me. I'm tough when it comes to setbacks. They don't scare me. I don't have the setbacks, the setbacks have me, and I was determined to show the world that. The first few days were a confidence boost. I was doing things on my own, I wasn't in a ton of pain, and I was KILLING rehab. Even the first few weeks weren't bad. I was ahead of schedule. I was down to one crutch in a week and a half, and I was walking on my own in three weeks. I was proving everyone wrong, and boy was I enjoying it. I was so optimistic that I was going to be back out doing my thing even sooner than I expected. Until I noticed something wasn't right. Did I push too hard? Did I not push hard enough?
 
"Trust the process"
I learned to hate those freaking words. As therapy progressed, I noticed I started to struggle, not due to physical pain, but because of physical incapability. Everything became almost impossible. I went back to the doctor to check my progress. My muscles to support my knee and leg weren't coming back like they were supposed to. They weren't there. I had been working so hard. I couldn't believe something like this was going to be the reason I was held back even longer. "Patience is key." I knew I had a long road ahead of me, one I surely wasn't prepared for. I was returning to the basics and reteaching my leg how to work all over again. Only this time, it was done a lot slower. I had never gone this long without basketball, and it started to take a toll on me. What seemed so close, became so far yet again. So, what's next? What am I supposed to do?
 
"There's always bumps in the road"
June came quick. It was time for summer workouts. I was making strides in the right direction, but I still wasn't where I needed to be. I was more confident now, though. I was getting stronger. I could feel it. I was working extra hard. I was finding some happiness again. I was surrounded by my teammates again, and they were encouraging me. I was finding a reassurance in me again. I knew I needed to get back for them. I had that determined look in my eyes again. I was becoming me again, and I knew that's what it would take for me to get where I need to be. Until June 25, 2019 came around.
 
I got a call from my mom while I was watching open gym. I could hear the shaking in her voice. I knew something was wrong. She explained that my sweet dog, Rudy, who I have had since I was just a little girl, was sick. Rudy was like my childhood best friend. I adored him. I didn't know how sick she was talking, but I knew it couldn't have been good. She didn't know how to explain it to me. She knew the way I felt about him. He was one of the biggest parts of my life. He was dying. Before she could get the words out, I started sobbing uncontrollably. I needed to go see it for myself. I left open gym and raced home. I walked in the door, and there was my sweet baby, laying there, fighting for every breath. He was miserable. He was suffering. I couldn't let him live this way. We had a decision to make. Let him live as long as he could or put him down. I held him in my arms with tears strolling down my face. I knew what was best, and so did my parents. So, my parents took him to be in a better place. When they left, I didn't understand. How could something like this be thrown at me now? I'm finally doing better. This wasn't fair. This isn't how it's supposed to go. How am I supposed to fight through this?
 
"Jeremiah 29:11"
The next week I went and got that verse tattooed on my ribs. I kept on keeping on. I missed Rudy every day, my heart was in pain. But I had goals. I had people who needed me. The Man in the sky had plans for me, and I was going to see what they were. I finished the summer out strong. I started running and jumping a little bit, and I got a new golden retriever, Sadie, who has become my best friend in the entire world. I believed God had a plan for me. I didn't know what it was, but I was destined to find out. I wasn't going to let the world win again. Not this time. Where was I going to go from here?
 
"One roadblock after another"
School came around, and I was ready. I was ready to be organized again. I was ready to be in a routine. I was ready to be distracted by things other than myself. I was doing genuinely well. I was happy. I just declared a new major. I was starting fresh from the summer. It all started out just how I wished it would. I was doing well in classes, continuing to work hard in therapy, and I was being me again. Until I woke up one morning sick.
 
At first, I thought it was a stomach bug, but before I knew it, I was getting sick 3-4 times a week. I was no longer eating. I had no appetite. I was losing weight rapidly. I knew something was wrong. I went to the doctor and they put me on medicine to try to control the vomiting. It wasn't working, though, and by this point, I was down about 20 pounds. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with me. I looked unhealthy. I was so thin, and I couldn't control it. I was getting tests run, scopes, bloodwork and nothing was telling them anything. After months of this issue, we got some answers. My stomach was chronically inflamed, and my liver levels were elevated. It was so relieving to know they finally figured it out, but unfortunately there wasn't much they could do. I stopped taking all antibiotics that were affecting my stomach negatively and had to start the process of expanding my shrunken stomach. This was frustrating because I had fallen behind in school and in therapy. How was I ever going to finally get to the finish line?
 
"Into the deep end"
This was my biggest breakdown of all. I had lost myself completely. I had given up on everything. I didn't care anymore. I stopped going to class, and my grades plummeted. I still couldn't eat, so I was losing weight. I still wasn't back on the court. For the first time in my life, I lost all my passion. It was only a matter of time before my coaches knew of the damage I was doing to myself. It wasn't long after that I received a text from my coach to come into her office. I knew exactly what it was about. I wasn't that stupid. I walked in there with a look of not a care in the world still all over my face. Let me go ahead and tell you, I got my butt RIPPED. I wasn't taking care of myself. She knew that, and she was determined to fix it. She put me on daily curfew and gave me mandatory study table time every day. On top of it all, I was on meal checks to make sure I was eating. It was in that moment my look changed from careless to guilt. She cared. She actually cared. How could I be so selfish? What was I doing to myself?
 
"Once a screw up, always a screw up"
Time to fast forward. FINALLY, after eight months of not playing basketball, I was back and at it. I was playing in games again. Most would think this was the turning point in life, just what I needed to get me back on track. But it wasn't. I was still doing my own thing. I still didn't care. I wasn't performing well on the court either. I felt like a disappointment. The one thing I was good at in life, I finally got back, and I sucked at it.
 
Because of this, I was still making stupid decisions. I was breaking rules because somehow that was the only thing that made me feel good. I broke curfew every single night, until one night I get a call. It was Coach. I had been caught breaking the rules. She was at my apartment waiting for me to get home and when I walked in, she was on the phone with my parents. I had never seen a look of such disappointment. I had let her and the team down. And it was in that moment that I realized I needed to make changes in my life. She cared about me so much, and I was too selfish to care. She was trying to help me get better, and all I did was push her away and take an advantage of it. I had a meeting with her the next morning to discuss my punishment. I didn't sleep that night. Too many emotions. Disappointment, guilt, self-hate. I mean, who was I? I was a good kid before 2019. And now I felt like I couldn't be worse. I walked into the meeting the next day expecting the worst. She had a long talk with me about how worried she was about me, and she knew I was better than this. With that being said, she decided to suspend me for a game. I was beyond thankful for that. It could've been so much worse, but she knew this wasn't me. When was I finally going to learn?
 
"I am worthy"
These were the next words I got tattooed on me. I got it planted on the other ribs. This was a reminder that I was worth more than I ever thought. People actually cared about me. I was the one who didn't care about me. And I had decided that would no longer be an issue. I hurt everyone who loved me in the process of hating myself. I put my foot down and made the change. I finished the semester out the best I could. I went to the rest of my classes. I started doing all my homework. I was putting in extra work on the court. I was eating again. I was finding who I was again, and I wasn't going back. I needed my coaches, team, and family to know that I was still Taylor Clos; it just took some time to find her again. With the help of anxiety medicine and all those important people, I was recovering. I was getting better. I was happy again. So, you asked, how do you keep swimming?
 
"Just keep swimming"
It takes time. It takes soul searching. It takes guidance and help. It can't be done alone. I can say from obvious experience that doing it on your own is not the answer. Once I took a step back and realized the harm done, I knew I needed help. It was the best decision of my life. Since the beginning of 2020, my grades have gone back to normal. I've been to every single class and done all my homework. I eat normal meals and I've gained some weight back. My performance on the court is as good as it's ever been. I'm happy and the people who love me are happy too. I have found my place again. I belong here. It's been an emotional roller coaster but giving up is not an option. If I can do it, anyone can.