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Camille
November arrived sooner than I expected, too quick to be quite honest. The stress started to build up, the stress of being the best in the team, the stress of being a good teammate and the stress of next year's WNBA draft. I did tell Paige I was going to stay an extra year with her...so I don't really know why I'm stressed about that, I just am so much so that I've been going harder at training and my early morning trainings.
I even stayed after practice today to get in extra training regardless of whether my body felt tired, my mind didn't feel tired. Therefore I had more work in me, I had more drive. I need to be the best and I need to be perfect, no sloppy shots, no weak sides. Just perfection.
As I took shots in the gym my mind clouded with different thoughts. But one overtook every single other one.
'Why did you tell Paige you were committing without thinking about it'
The gym, usually a sanctuary of focused practice, felt oppressive today. The squeak of my sneakers on the polished floor echoed louder than usual, a stark reminder of my unsettled mind.
I took a deep breath and lined up my first shot. The ball left my fingertips, but instead of sailing smoothly through the net, it clanked off the back iron. I frowned and retrieved the rebound, trying to shake off the frustration building inside me. This wasn't just about missing shots; it was about the weight of expectations, both from myself and others, that seemed to bear down on me.
With each subsequent attempt, my aim seemed to worsen. Shots that normally found their mark now sailed wide or fell short. Each miss felt like a personal failure, a confirmation of doubts that had been nagging at me throughout the day. My mind replayed every mistake from the training session, every misstep and missed opportunity, magnifying them into insurmountable obstacles.
"Focus," I muttered under my breath, trying to drown out the negative thoughts that threatened to consume me. But the harder I tried to concentrate, the more my mind rebelled, refusing to cooperate. It was as if a thick fog had settled over my thoughts, clouding my judgment and hindering my ability to perform.
Just when I was on the verge of giving up, a voice broke through the haze. "What are you still doing here?"
I turned to see Nika, standing at the entrance of the gym, a concerned expression on her face. Despite my frustration, a small wave of fear washed over me at the sight of her. I have never told anybody that I do extra practice, although I know that she knows. I can tell when she hears me waking up in the morning, I'm not exactly the quietest person.
"What are you?" I replied as I kept taking shots, moving closer in to try and get back into the rhythm.
"I had an appointment with the trainers, now what's your excuse you must be gassed" She said, her tone changing as she moved closer to me.
