Treading water: Reclaiming my love for swimming at Emory

Content Warning: This article contains references to suicidal ideation. 

One of my favorite sayings in the sport of competitive swimming is: “In the water, they can’t see you cry.” Whether you’re overcoming your fear of the ocean or you’re a competitive athlete spending countless hours in the pool, the water has a unique ability to dry out your skin, hide your exhaustion and mask your true emotions. 

I began swimming competitively at five years old. Despite early experimentation with other sports, there was nothing quite like the feeling of the cool water against my skin and the adrenaline rush from racing the person next to me. At first, I aspired to follow in the footsteps of my older sister, who also swam competitively. But with each practice, I found other joys — making new friends, watching my body grow stronger, mastering skills such as attention to detail, discipline and time management. 

In high school, I was determined to take my swimming to the next level. I hit each milestone in stride, reaching USA Swimming Junior National Championships, winning high school state championships and eventually committing to Emory University. I set my sights on trips to the NCAA championships, shelves of trophies and White House visits. Notorious for its Division III dominance, I knew that by committing to Emory, my expectations were sure to become reality. 

Then came the 5 a.m. practices and growing weight to maintain this image of success.

Big fish in a bigger pond

Throughout my early swimming career, I’d grown accustomed to individual attention from my coaches and from my peers. So, arriving at Emory, I was shocked to be surrounded by other high-achieving students and athletes who expected the same thing. I was no longer the stand-out student or swimmer I had been in high school.

In retrospect, I should have known about the competitiveness of a top school like Emory, but as an inexperienced freshman, I internalized my normalcy as a flaw in my abilities and went into damage-control mode. I found myself making short-term fixes to my rapidly growing insecurities. If other people were smarter, that meant I needed to study more. If my teammates swam faster, I needed to work even harder at practice. I was spinning my wheels tirelessly, convincing myself that I was keeping up with the competition. In reality, I was losing my individualism and confidence, and the internal measuring stick only continued to grow. 

Then came the culmination of all my hard work freshman year: the anticipated roster selection for the University Athletic Association (UAA) and NCAA Swimming and Diving Championships. For outsiders, what often goes unseen is the internal competition within each team for the twenty hallowed spots to compete at these events. So, when I failed to see my name on the list of selected athletes, I sunk into a depression. 

All my hard work throughout the season was suddenly futile. I felt as though I meant nothing on this revered team. This setback, which came at the end of my freshman year, made me spiral into a downward-trending mindset. By the end of my sophomore year, I was posting slower times than I did as a high school freshman. Now, not only was I comparing my failures to the immeasurable success of my teammates, but also to the success I once had. There was no winning this competition. 

I suffered mentally and physically as a result. My deteriorating mental health spiraled into weight loss, suicidal ideation and constant self-criticism. Paired with the sleep deprivation caused by the early morning practices and the 10 training sessions per week, I was burnt out. I debated quitting or transferring schools. My expectations for this once-perfect team were tainted by my failures and the unattainable notions of perfection in collegiate athletics. 

Finding myself at Emory

By the end of my sophomore year, I knew I needed to do something differently that did not involve academics or athletics. While rudimentary, I ultimately decided to focus on what college was for: figuring out what I wanted with my life. 

Coming into Emory, I had interests in a variety of academic disciplines, but what was central to all of them was the joy I found in connecting with others. This, combined with my love of Emory’s rigorous science courses, drew me toward healthcare. With swimming no longer my focus, I traveled abroad to Guatemala and worked in medically underserved clinics. Seeing the disparities in other parts of the world reinvigorated my spark to live a more meaningful and purposeful life. I’d taken so much for granted throughout my life, including access to higher education and the ability to pursue my passions, like swimming, without hesitation. 

With a redefined sense of gratitude and desire to bridge the disparities I’d seen in Guatemala, I decided to return to the sport that gave me so much. I was now armed with an understanding that my role would be much different— I would work as hard as possible to support my teammates while I watched them win at UAAs, vie for roster spots at NCAAs and swim times that I could only dream of. Yet, underneath my new goals and immense pride for them, there was still a lingering disappointment that my teammates were living out my dreams. 

Ironically, with the realization that I didn’t need the sport to be a successful person, I started to flourish in the pool. 

I felt like a different person in my junior year and I swam like one too. In my six-month break, I found ways to get myself physically and emotionally stronger, including weightlifting, meeting with a therapist, eating properly with the help of a nutritionist and finding a balance with other extracurriculars. I gained a newfound confidence in both my body and mind, and I was determined to soak in each moment, knowing that there were people around the world who didn’t have the opportunities I had. By the end of that season, I was living out my freshman dreams of competing at UAAs and NCAAs. Only this time, my appreciation for the sport was not the same as the hopes and dreams I had coming into college. 

Standing on the NCAA podium after my 100-yard backstroke, I remember searching for my parents up in the stands. It was at this moment that I felt like the accomplished leader and decorated athlete that Emory’s swim and dive team is known for. But it wasn’t the trophy that made me feel this way. It was the realization that my resilience, perseverance and ability to connect with others defined me as a leader and carried me to the podium.

Ultimately, I would have never reached that moment without the support of my teammates, coaches and the extra hands that help propel Emory athletics to its excellence. My time with the swim team has helped me understand how the sport has given me a gift to connect with others and reach my goals personally, intellectually and professionally. Things may not have gone exactly how I envisioned them, but despite that, I’ve still left my mark on the team. I’ve shown the benefits of perseverance, empowered the voices of those around me and displayed how spirit and enthusiasm can propel a team forward beyond tangible successes. 

As I transition into a life beyond swimming, I will keep the invaluable lessons, memories and unshakeable resilience that this athletic journey has instilled in me. While everyone has a different experience on our team, I am fortunate for my teammates and coaches who helped me transform obstacles into excellence at every level. I know that these principles will guide me each day, not only shaping me into a better doctor but also into a more compassionate and purpose-driven individual. So, while they can’t see you cry in the water, they will undoubtedly witness the strengthened individual that comes out of it.

If you or someone you know is having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, you can call Student Intervention Services at (404) 430-1120 or reach Emory’s Counseling and Psychological Services at (404) 727-7450. You can reach the Georgia Suicide Prevention Lifeline 24/7 at (800) 273-TALK (8255) and the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline 24/7 at 988.