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In 2019, my life took an unexpected turn, altering my path in profound ways. Reflecting on Janet Jackson's analogy of being drawn to light like a moth to a flame, I found myself resonating with the sentiment of being burned by something I once held dear. For nearly 17 years, I dedicated myself to collegiate coaching, driven by a passion I didn't fully grasp until faced with its consequences.
The journey began when my sister, the team's coach, decided to step away, passing the reins to me. Initially hesitant, I embraced the role out of reverence for tradition and a desire to protect the integrity of our program. Over the years, I witnessed the ebb and flow of team dynamics, emphasizing to the girls that while their time with us was finite, the program's legacy endured.
As seasons passed and the team evolved, I found myself grappling with shifts in culture and individual energies. During tryouts, a lingering intuition prompted me to voice concerns about a particular candidate, sensing an unsettling aura that defied explanation. Despite my reservations, life carried on, marked by personal challenges, including my father's battle with dementia.
In the midst of familial responsibilities, news of an altercation involving one of our team members reached me—a familiar scenario, echoing past incidents. Despite university protocols dictating our response, the situation weighed heavily, compounded by my father's declining health.
Tragedy struck in November with my father's passing, a somber moment further complicated by the complexities of collegiate coaching. Amidst personal grief, I received a message from the implicated team member, extending condolences and blurring the lines between duty and empathy.
Fast forward to February 1st, 2019—a date forever etched in memory. A casual scroll through social media unearthed a post accusing the coaching staff of negligence and abandonment in the wake of the aforementioned incident. Shock turned to disbelief as unfounded allegations spiraled into a storm of slander and vitriol, fueled by misinformation and speculation.
Navigating the fallout, I found solace in the unwavering support of those who knew me best, yet the scars of public scrutiny ran deep. As the truth emerged, vindication came at a cost, overshadowed by the lingering stain of falsehoods perpetuated by individuals whose judgment lacked context or compassion.
The ordeal exposed fissures within institutional support, prompting introspection and ultimately, resignation. The decision to part ways stemmed not from defeat, but from a refusal to compromise principles in the face of adversity. Though closure remains elusive, I find solace in reclaiming agency over my narrative, guided by empathy and grace.
In sharing this journey, I implore others to look beyond headlines and hearsay, embracing nuance and empathy in a world too often defined by snap judgments. Behind every story lies untold depths, urging us to tread with humility and compassion.
As I embark on a new chapter, I carry with me the lessons learned, fortified by resilience and a steadfast commitment to truth. In the end, it's not the flames that define us, but our ability to rise from the ashes, illuminated by the light of understanding and redemption. #KNOWUS
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