No More Bows, I Suppose

Cheer is a passion of mine. 

Its not a hobby 

Its not a pass time

Its not a sport I do to stay in shape. 

Cheer is Life. 

I've been on the cheer squad since I was a freshman, making Varsity in my first year.  I've known I wanted to be a cheerleader for YEARS. I did all I could. I wasn't head cheerleader, I never have been. My coaches, however, let me take a certain amount of leadership, and I took full advantage. 

I did extra workouts, determined to be the best I could, whether I was flying or a base, just cheering, or rallying our school. I wanted to be strong and sleak. I raised money like crazy. I wanted to go to a cheer camp, I wanted to have nicer uniforms. I wanted matching shoes. Hair bows. It took money and effort. I gave it my all. I had our team in shape. We did workouts as a team, we did fundraisers. I was so excited about cheer, I even infected my best friend with a little bit of a love for being a cheerleader. She joined the squad last year. 

I loved the Saturday games under the lights, I loved the sparkles, I loved the bows and the pony tails. I loved the skirts, the goose bumps on my legs, the breathlessness from a vigorous cheer. I loved the burn of my throat from screaming. I loved the anticipation, the desire, the excitement and electricity. That moment, 30 seconds before a game and we are one touchdown from winning. its like the world is holding its breath and screaming as loud as it can, all at the same time. 

I loved the high kicks. I love stretching, I love the burn of a good stretch. I loved the girls on my squad too. They were all older than me, but they felt like big sisters. We would have Outlaw nights and eat a ton of pizza and do our hair for the game and just talk about girl stuff. I loved the smell of hot curling irons and hair spray.  I loved helping girls braid their hair back, situating bows, fixing uniform hems, and complaining about how tight the underarmor was.  I loved it.

Cheer practice was always a blast. We put on our shorts and tee shirts and the first thing we did was run, then we stretched, then we did a workout. After that, we started working on cheers, and my favorite, cheer dances. Music is my one true passion, so combining them was heavenly. I loved the sharp movements, the sweat, the grueling hours of doing the same motion over and over till it was crisp and perfect. I loved it.  Glitter filled my veins. I was a cheerleader at heart. 

So you can imagine the way I felt the day I found out I would never wear the uniform again. Its really hard and embarrassing for me to admit, but my grades sucked. I made a bad choice, and it was taken from me. 

Holy cow. Talk about feeling empty. One minute, I was a blazing fire, and the next, I was just out. 

As you know, I have never been a popular kid. Cheer gave me an outlet though. I got to use my spunk and excitement, my loud boystrous joy, for something that would benefit others. Not just myself. I remember the first game I ever went to as a not cheerleader. I was really scared. I didn't have anybody to stand with, I was scared they wouldn't let me in, I felt like I was occupying space I shouldn't be in. I was ashamed. I'd let my team down, let my school down, my family, and myself. I no longer had that anchor of "Cheerleader" to hold me down. 

Soon after I left, everything changed. The cheers changed, the whole feeling of the squad changed. They have since, recruited a lot more girls. I left a squad of three or four, they now have almost 12. Its weird for me to look at my summer and think about scheduling practices and car washes and contacting the girls, and then realizing that I wont be doing any of that. I still get really excited sometimes when I hear a song. within two times of listening to it, I can have a whole dance, broken down into 8 counts prepared, only to remember that I wont be sharing it. 

Even now, in my new school, I wont be a cheerleader. I denied it for a really long time. I got excited, started working things out in my head. I have amazing grades now. I have all A's. Its really weird to look up and realize that its just over. I hung up my uniform. My bow is perched on my yearbooks. My jacket is dangling in my closet, unworn. My cheer tee shirts haven't seen the light of day in months. My cheer photos and trophies are the only things left on my cheer shelf. I haven't done black and red eyeliner or face paint in over a year. 

 I miss cheer. 

I think cheer was honestly my first breakup. I fell completely and totally in love with it. I learned it, lived it. Let it become a part of me, and one day it left me. Its really weird. I just take everything one step at a time. Every day is another day, new opportunities. Who knows? Something might change. I might be able to be on the squad again. For now though, I'm going to stay on my grind. Work my hardest, and every time I look into the mirror, I wont forget about where I started. 

Who are you when you're done being everyone else?  

These Small Hours

Before school, there is a few minutes between class time and everybody arriving. Its the hours of the day when the light is just coming through the big windows, the happy laughter of little kids coming to school fills the air, and our classroom gets to play with babies.

I learn a lot in these few hours. The people in my world move so fast. Even in a slow town, the faces hold more stories than we are ever privileged enough to know. In these mornings, I love being quiet and just listening to the stories of the people around me.

There is a boy in my school who wants to be a fire fighter. I never knew this, and I wouldn't have guessed it. His older brothers are volunteer fire fighters, as was his father. He told me about how he loves the rush, the knowing that you are benefiting something thats a lot bigger than just him. He talked about how he was excited for the hard work, the heat of heavy equipment.  He went on to describe working with a few of the men in drills, and learning from his brother.

Another boy in my class is passionate about music. He writes raps, as well as makes sick beats. He sits at the back table and bangs out beats on the table, weaving stories into his words. His stories impact me a lot. they talk of finding value in family, turning away from materialistic pleasures, and connecting with himself as well as God.

A girl in my class takes care of her little sister. Its amazing to see the maturity and grace she lives each day with. She has to make sure they get to and from school each day, are dressed and fed. She is basically a second mom to her little sister.

Another kid in my class is struggling with social anxiety. They have a girlfriend, but struggle with trusting her because of things that have happened in the past. His parents are supportive, but his dad has never been the best dad. My friend used to struggle with heavy drug use and alcoholism.  Its a struggle for them to stay on their current path of recovery, but they push through it every single day. They have a love for music and drawing to express their emotion, and find beauty even in the struggle. He writes about his struggles. he weaves amazing pictures of his pain. Also, the pink hair is fabulous.

Another kid in my class has a passion for music, he uses music to vent. His story is not as loud as some of the other kids, but in my mornings of talking with him, I have found out he is a truly amazing character.  IN a corrupt world, he tries to bring light to everybody. He says "rip" maybe too often (haha) but the amount of care he has for his friend is translated in his fierce loyalty and ability of keeping secrets and supporting the people around him.

This girl in my class is an amazing cartoon artist (excuse me, that word does not justice.) Her drawings are amazing. she can make me smile and laugh. The people she draws are so real. I don't even know how she does it. Her true talent isn't seen enough, in my opinion. Her drawings are typically more happy, striving with each one to bring a smile to anthers face. She isn't really in love with herself. Its sad to see such a bright light dim itself because insecurities. Shes really funny. Her hair is naturally curly, and she never wears makeup. She has a deep sorrow placed in her heart, but her smile is brilliant, and she always makes others smile.

What I've told you is nothing compared to the way these kids express themselves. 

Every human is like a book. you know? we never get finished being written. Our lives are huge white canvases. We shoot them with paintball guns, sometimes ripping through the material, or splattering them with brushes, or dumping an entire can of paint.  Its a mess! the colors all run together and they don't make scene. The shades clash and  the brights are dulled by the darker tones. yet its a master piece. you cant see it, you're the artist. All you see is the chaos, but the rest of the world can see the beauty you're coaxing out of the blank space. 

I've learned a lot from all of these kids. I've learned true friendship, I've learned what resilience really looks like. I've learned that the world has little nests of good people, I've learned about over coming, bravery, maturity. My teachers have shown more dedication and drive than I've seen in a lot of people. I used to think that small things didn't really matter, but these kids have taught me that even sometimes just getting to school is an amazing way to impact the world. 

Sometimes i have to take a moment and remember that i am also making a masterpiece, and even when it feels like the colors aren't working, and the whole thing is a mess and i wish i could just start over, someone else is looking on and thinking "what an amazing piece of art" (at least, i hope anyways :-/ ) what are your colors? what does your canvas look like? 

who are you when you're done being everybody else?