It is not often in life that one’s heart falls to their stomach and the whole world shatters as if it were a simple glass pitcher. No one should really have to experience this, but as I sat in my bed looking over my “junk” box, the most recent home for various receipts, tickets and wrappers, I found an old wadded-up sticker. I could almost make out the worn 16 printed on it.

It had been nearly seven months since I tried out for Planoettes, wearing that number 16 sticker. Sadly, I did not make it. Sitting on my bed, I relived the horrifying moment all over. The worst part was that it was not a nightmare or a scary movie I could just shake off. Instead it was like a slap in the face from reality, telling me that the one thing I wanted to be I could not be.

I know in life there are things such as disappointment, which I think everyone should experience. But sitting there, I refused to accept it. It was a desire for me. A need. A want.

Shortly after not making the team and “putting on my big girl panties”, I tried to be involved with other things—that way I could reassure myself that I was not just a washed-up drill team gal. I joined practically every club under the sun, and still did not feel as if I belonged, like I once had to dance.

I was probably about two seconds away from freaking out and having something that would resemble a seizure in the cafeteria when I was informed by a friend about Pom Squad, a half cheer/half dance team similar to the Dallas Maverick’s Dance Team.

After several days of contemplation, I decided to try out. Something in me realized that I needed to be a part of something, and I knew the tryout could be the chance for me to finally get over my depressed “hump”. The whole time I was at tryouts, I kept asking myself, “Should I feel ashamed or proud?”

I could be proud that I was trying to move on and do something else, or ashamed for even believing I could ever do anything important again.

Four months later, I am now a member of that team and as cliché as it is: I love it. The girls accept me, I have fun, and best of all, I have a home.

Now I know that some things in my heart will never be replaced, like the desire to be a Planoette. Nor shall the pain or disappointment ever disappear, but I think I have finally contemplated an answer to the complex question I asked myself months ago.  I choose to be neither proud nor ashamed, for I have started a new journey for myself.

I opened a door I had never considered, and in the outcome, I have found a place where I belong. I know basketball season is a few months away, but now during Friday night lights at half time when I see all my friends on the field without me, a part of me is at peace because I know I will have my time, too. I now know I should not stick myself with a label, which is something that only I could discover for myself. I am not a “drill team gal”. I am not just another kid. I am doing what I need now.