| COMMUNITY VOICES |
A New Mindset BY HANNA ’21
I
like to dream big and set the bar high with everything I do. I work hard to achieve whatever I determine the goal. The downside occurs when the goal becomes out of reach. If there is one thing that I have learned this year, it is that you never know what life is going to throw at you—but it all happens for a reason. I love my family more than anything in the world; they would do anything to help me reach my dreams. My dad taught me how to skate when I was 4, and ever since hockey has been at the center of my life. I love the fast-paced, competitive edge needed to play the game. However, growing up in Utah, hockey is not a popular sport, let alone a popular girls sport. I played with boys. I always made the top boy team, and for two years I was invited to play on an all-girls tournament team based out of Vermont. At age 14, after my boys’ team competed in the USA Hockey National Tournament, my parents and I made the decision that I would go to the East Coast and attend a boarding prep school to pursue my dream to play in college. With very little exposure to that part of the country, we stumbled upon Kimball Union Academy. The school had a beautiful campus, engaging staff, diverse student body, and strong hockey program. I instantly fell in love. Starting in my sophomore year, I settled well into the prep-school life of academics, sports, and friends. I looked forward to winter and the start of hockey season. With little experience playing with girls, I quickly differentiated myself with my size, strength, and physicality. I had been talking to coaches on both the D I and D III college levels, preparing myself for recruitment during my junior season. I worked very hard during the summer between my sophomore and junior years to prepare. I thought I was tough, but I found I am not invincible. At the beginning of my junior year, I was required to play a fall sport, which ended up being field hockey. On September 18, I was defending a girl’s shot in a game. She followed through with a high stick. She nailed me in the chin and all I felt was a heavy thud. The girl who shot stopped cold, looked panicked, and asked if I was okay. With little pain at the time, I shrugged her off. I was determined to stop the other team from scoring—all I could think about was how I needed to keep playing. It was not until four minutes later, when the game ended, that I started to taste the blood. It was then I felt the panic flood in. I was not okay. The trainers told me it was a mild concussion, that I would be back on the field in two weeks. When two weeks rolled around, I was still unable to read a book for five minutes without feeling like I was going to throw up. My main symptoms were nausea, headache, lightheadedness, and sound sensitivity. My pupils didn’t dilate the same, and my left eye would veer off. I could not even remember my own phone number. Eight weeks later, my Spanish teacher, who was also the dean of academics,
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| H I L LT O P M A G A Z I N E |
told me that I was going to get an incomplete in my fall trimester classes. I could not believe it had come to this. I was far from home, struggling with school, feeling awful, and nowhere near able to play the sport I loved. I saw vision therapists and physical therapists and got prescription reading glasses. I was taking four pills a day to help with migraines, nausea, and head rushes. It felt like an endless road of Band-Aids and shattered dreams. Needless to say, I was confused, frustrated, and alone. I was angry about the impact on hockey, school, dwindling opportunities, and my general well-being. One day I called my mom, upset and complaining. She told me to snap out of it, focus on what I can do and stop dwelling on what I could not. I realized I had been fixated on everything I was missing—and it was making me miserable. So, the next day I set out to change my mind set. I went to the art studio, somewhere I had never been before. It was calm inside and, as I walked through the door, I could feel some of the anger inside of me being lifted off my shoulders. I started going there every day. It was my escape. I learned other things about myself. Being outside brings me joy and diving into cool water brings me peace. I enjoy helping others and was elected student body president for my senior year. As all-school president, I set out to create an environment that was safe and supportive for everyone, that showed people how to love KUA in the way that I love KUA. When social unrest starting happening in our country, I took it upon myself to really get informed and address it so I’d be comfortable talking about it. I worked closely with the Queer-Straight Alliance and the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusivity Committee and ran a workshop on Martin Luther King Jr. Day on white privilege and social bias. Last summer I took a neuroscience course at Stanford University through a Cullman Scholarship. It was probably the coolest experience I’ve had. It made me consider what else could I be doing if hockey wasn’t on the table in college. These new discoveries within myself have helped to adjust my passion for hockey and the previous expectations of who I thought I should become and what my next steps would have been. This experience has taught me that I am not a person to sit back and let things happen to me. Instead, I decide my attitude and my perspective each and every moment. Life is too short to be sad over something that may or may not change. This year I came to terms with that fact. I am proud of myself that I took the opportunity to look outside and learn more about myself. There is so much now that brings me joy, not just one sport. To this day I work to manage my symptoms and make an effort daily to find the joy and focus on what I can control. I often look back on that day in September, the day life threw me a major curve ball. Hockey will always be a part of me, but I am grateful for all I have now. K
Hanna is from Park City, Utah. She attends Western Washington University, where she studies ethics and neuroscience.
