When growing up meant letting myself create again

Image Courtesy: Syndey Annis

My mom played college tennis at Vanderbilt, which meant that I was basically born with a racket in my hand. I started playing around age eight and hit the ground running. My entire childhood experience consisted of tennis practice, tennis tournaments, and school. School was always important to me, and it was instilled in me that good grades were a necessity. However, when anyone asked me who I was, well, I was a tennis player. That was my identity.

I played tennis for ten years, and my routine every week was the same. I would go to school till whatever time and go straight to practice or strength training. Weekends were for more training or tournaments. 

A goal of mine for a while was to play college tennis. When I eventually decided against that thought, it was only a matter of time until my intensive tennis lifestyle came to an end. I arrived at the University of Georgia in Fall 2023, and as for most people, college was an adjustment. Many people mentioned to me the idea of playing club tennis, so I brought my rackets. I remember my bulky tennis bag sitting at the top of my dorm stairs in my room. 

I lugged myself and all of my stuff onto the bus one afternoon and eventually went to the club tennis tryouts. There were so many people there, and a lot of them were really good. I remember playing. I felt confident. I knew that my years of practice, tournaments, and playing on my high school varsity team all four years had to mean something, right?

Later that night, I arrived back at my dorm, and I checked the UGA club tennis Instagram. They posted the names of people they wanted for callbacks. My name was not there. I remember sitting in a fishbowl phone room on my floor in Brumby Hall, with tears streaming down my face as I called my mom about the news. I did not know what to do. Tennis was everything to me for the absolute longest time. It made me who I am. 

For a little while, I felt so incredibly defeated. I felt as if I had lost a part of myself. However, while it was not easy at all, I took my life in a different direction. I realized that college is a time where people change and grow, as cliché as that sounds. I was no longer a tennis player, and I was searching for a new sense of identity in a town that was completely foreign to me. 

I began to understand that just as people come and go, so do hobbies and interests. I knew I was not going to play tennis forever, and that is okay. It just means that something else is waiting for me. Growing up, fashion had always been a creative outlet for me, but generally, I never viewed myself as a creative person. I was a tennis player, that was it! 

This rejection I faced ultimately helped me discover that I do possess a level of creativity, and because I was so focused on tennis as an adolescent, I was never able to acknowledge it. I just turned 21 a little over a week ago, and I am creating more than ever. Whether it is a small doodle in my room or a big project, I am always trying to create. I think it is important to remember that creating something does not mean it has to be perfect. It took me a while to understand, and I am still trying to learn. The act of creating is powerful in itself, and the mere fact that you are doing it means something. 

Overall, I hope that my anecdote helped you realize that you do not have a defined identity from day one. Every day we experience change, and while change is uncomfortable, it uncovers new experiences that we often end up loving. Without change, we would never discover them. I now cannot imagine my life without my newfound hobbies. Sometimes I do miss the times when my old tennis academy felt like my second home, and it makes me sad. However, if I had never experienced that uncomfortable, foreign feeling of leaving behind tennis, I would not be the same person I am today. 

Strike out,

Sydney Annis

Editor: Meghan Bosman