Football is Life

This past week felt like a blur — school assignments piling up, college applications looming, and a to-do list that never seemed to shrink. I could’ve easily convinced myself I was too busy for anything else. But as part of my NHS volunteer commitment, I had signed up to help at a local elementary school — and I’m glad I didn’t back out.

At first, I showed up tired and distracted, still thinking about essays and deadlines. But the moment I stepped into the classroom, everything else faded. The kids were full of energy and questions, eager to show their drawings and tell stories that somehow mixed superheroes with math. Their enthusiasm was contagious.

I spent the afternoon helping with reading activities and classroom organization. It wasn’t anything extraordinary — stapling papers, sounding out words, helping with crafts — but it reminded me why I joined NHS in the first place. Service isn’t always about big gestures; sometimes it’s about small moments that make someone’s day easier or brighter.

By the time I left, I felt lighter. The stress was still there, but it didn’t feel so heavy. Volunteering gave me perspective — a reminder that even in the middle of all the chaos of high school and college prep, I can still make time to give back.

That experience reminded me that balance isn’t just about managing time — it’s about remembering why we do what we do. Helping those kids for a few hours reminded me that the effort I put into my education isn’t just for myself, but to someday serve others on a bigger scale.

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When my younger sister entered junior high, I wanted her to find something meaningful outside of school — something that connected her passions with helping others. That’s how we ended up in Music as Medicine, a volunteer program where students play live music for nursing home residents.

At first, she was nervous. The idea of performing for strangers, especially in such an emotional setting, felt intimidating. I remember feeling the same way when I first joined. So I helped her prepare — choosing familiar songs, practicing duets, and talking about what to expect.

The day of the performance, I watched her walk into the room, violin in hand, shoulders tense but determined. By the time she played her final note, the residents were smiling, some even humming along. On the drive home, she told me it was one of the happiest moments she’d had all year.

Mentoring her through that experience reminded me why I love this program — not just for the music, but for the way it bridges generations. In that small space, surrounded by sound and gratitude, we were reminded that kindness doesn’t need to be loud. Sometimes it’s as simple as sharing a song.

Lately, my life feels like a checklist that never ends — essays, transcripts, recommendation letters, supplements, deadlines. Preparing and applying for college has been one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. Everyone talks about the excitement of this next chapter, but not enough about how overwhelming it can feel to prove yourself on paper.

There are days when I question if I’ve done enough — enough volunteering, enough leadership, enough anything. It’s easy to get caught comparing myself to others, especially when everyone seems to be chasing the same few dream schools.

What’s been helping me is learning to pause. Sometimes that means stepping away from my laptop and going for a walk, or talking to a friend who’s going through the same process. I’ve started setting smaller goals instead of staring at the entire application at once — one essay, one edit, one submission at a time.

I’ve also realized that my worth isn’t tied to an acceptance letter. No matter where I end up, I’ll still be the same person who worked hard, cared deeply, and grew through the process. The stress is real, but so is the strength I’ve found in handling it.

It starts the same way every time. I grab my phone “just for a minute” before bed — maybe to check a text or see a quick update. But one minute turns into twenty, then an hour. Suddenly, I’m reading about disasters, arguments in the comments section, and another tragic headline that makes my chest feel heavy.

That’s when I learned there’s actually a word for it: doomscrolling.

The Spiral We Don’t Notice

At first, I told myself I was just staying informed. After all, it’s important to know what’s happening in the world, right? But somewhere between updates and outrage, I realized I wasn’t learning anymore — I was drowning in it.

My feed became a stream of bad news and negativity. Wars, wildfires, politics, tragedy. Even when I wasn’t directly affected, my body reacted like it was — tense shoulders, racing thoughts, and that quiet feeling of dread. And the worst part? I kept scrolling anyway.

Why We Keep Doing It

I think doomscrolling tricks us into thinking we’re in control. We tell ourselves, If I keep reading, maybe I’ll understand. Maybe I’ll be ready for what’s next. But that’s not how it works. The more I scrolled, the more powerless I felt.

It’s like eating junk food for your brain — quick hits of stimulation that leave you emptier than before. I’d close my phone at midnight, feel terrible, and still open it again the next morning.

When I Knew I Needed a Reset

One night, after scrolling through stories about things I couldn’t change, I looked at the time: 2:07 a.m. I had school the next day. My eyes burned, but my mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything I’d just seen.

That was my wake-up call — literally and emotionally. I realized I was feeding my anxiety instead of fighting it.

What’s Actually Helping Me

Here’s what I’ve been doing to stop doomscrolling — or at least make it less powerful:

1. Setting “scroll hours.”
   I decided I won’t use social media after 10 p.m. I keep my phone across the room so I’m not tempted to grab it when I should be sleeping.
2. Replacing the habit.
   I still like checking in on what’s happening, but I mix it with balance — a podcast, some music, or reading something positive. It reminds me the world isn’t all bad.
3. Following better content.
   I started following accounts that talk about mental health, creativity, and kindness. My feed feels lighter now — like a conversation instead of chaos.
4. Asking “how do I feel right now?”
   Every time I’m scrolling, I stop and notice my mood. If I feel anxious or sad, I know it’s time to put the phone down.

The Takeaway

I’m not perfect — I still catch myself falling into the scroll sometimes. But now I notice it faster. I remind myself that it’s okay not to know everything, all the time. The world is still turning even if I miss a few updates.

When I choose to unplug, I feel calmer, more focused, and a little more hopeful. Maybe that’s what breaking the doomscroll is really about — realizing that protecting your peace doesn’t mean ignoring the world; it means making space to see it clearly again.

Here’s a comparison table of selected top U.S. medical schools. It includes metrics like median MCAT, median GPA, and acceptance data where available.

Medical School	Approx. Median MCAT*	Approx. Median GPA*	Acceptance Rate / Selectivity†	Notes / Highlights
Harvard Medical School	~ 520–521 (Leland)	~ 3.9–3.96 (Accepted)	Very low (highly selective)	One of the most prestigious, strong research and hospital network
Johns Hopkins School of Medicine	~ 521 (or extremely high) (Accepted)	~ 3.98 (Accepted)	Very competitive	Strong in clinical excellence and innovation
University of Pennsylvania (Perelman)	~ 522 (Accepted)	~ 3.96 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	Very selective	Strong research and dual-degree opportunities
Stanford University School of Medicine	~ 518 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	~ 3.9 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	Very low	Known for flexibility, innovation, and tech integration
Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine	~ 522 (Med School Insiders)	~ 3.95 (Accepted)	Very low (selective)	Integrated with Mayo Clinic health system
University of California, San Francisco (UCSF)	~ 517 (Accepted)	~ 3.89 (University Living)	~ 2–3% range (among most selective) (Inspira Advantage)	Top public medical school, strong NIH funding
Duke University School of Medicine	~ 520 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	~ 3.92 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	~ 2.9% (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	Innovative curriculum, early research emphasis
Washington University in St. Louis (WUSM)	~ 519.5 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	~ 3.88 (Career Launchpad | Arcadia University)	Selective	Strong in collaborative learning and research
University of Michigan Medical School	~ 518 (Accepted)	~ 3.9 (Accepted)	Highly selective	Great balance of research and clinical exposure
Others in high-rank tiers	—	—	—	e.g. Vanderbilt, Yale, Columbia, etc., also very selective (Shemmassian Academic Consulting)

When people talk about sports, they usually mention strength, speed, or endurance. But beneath every sprint, whistle, and score lies something equally powerful — the mind. Sports are not just physical training; they’re mental conditioning that builds resilience, focus, and emotional balance.

Discipline Builds Confidence

Athletes quickly learn that progress doesn’t come overnight. It’s the early practices, the late games, the constant repetition that create growth. Every time you push through fatigue or doubt, you train your mind to persist — not just in the game, but in life. That discipline builds confidence, showing you that effort pays off even when results take time.

Movement as Medicine

Exercise is one of the most natural antidepressants. Physical activity releases endorphins — the brain’s “feel-good” chemicals — that ease stress and anxiety. But beyond biology, movement itself provides rhythm and clarity. A run, a match, or a swim gives the mind something steady to hold onto in a world full of distractions.

Connection and Belonging

Sports are community. Whether it’s a soccer team, a track relay, or a neighborhood basketball game, the bonds formed through shared goals can be deeply grounding. Even individual sports often come with training partners and mentors who provide encouragement when motivation fades. That sense of belonging is one of the strongest protectors of mental health.

Learning from Failure

Every missed shot or tough loss becomes a lesson in resilience. Athletes — and referees — experience moments of pressure, criticism, and self-doubt. As a soccer referee, I’ve seen firsthand how emotions run high and decisions are questioned. Staying calm under that pressure requires composure and emotional regulation — skills that strengthen mental health far beyond the field.

Mindfulness in Motion

There’s a certain stillness that comes when you’re fully present in the game. Psychologists call it flow, athletes call it being in the zone. In those moments, worries fade, focus sharpens, and your awareness narrows to the now. Sports naturally cultivate mindfulness — a tool known to reduce anxiety and improve well-being.

Beyond the Final Whistle

Sports teach us how to care for both body and mind. They remind us that success comes from patience, that teamwork eases isolation, and that failure is simply feedback for growth. The lessons learned on the field — discipline, focus, empathy, and composure — are the same ones that build strong mental health.

In the end, playing, coaching, or even officiating isn’t just about competition. It’s about balance. When the mind and body move together, strength takes on a deeper meaning — one that lasts long after the game ends.

When people think of sports, they often picture physical strength—muscles, speed, endurance. But what’s equally important, and often overlooked, is the mind behind the motion. Whether it’s a casual jog around the neighborhood or a championship game under bright lights, sports shape mental health in profound ways.

1. Discipline Builds Confidence

Every training session is a quiet agreement between your body and your mind: to show up, to try again, to improve. The discipline that sports require translates directly into confidence. Each time you overcome the urge to quit—when your legs burn or your lungs feel heavy—you remind yourself that you can handle discomfort. Over time, that self-belief spills into everyday life, helping you face school, work, or personal challenges with more resilience.

2. Movement is Medicine

Exercise releases endorphins, often called “feel-good hormones.” These natural chemicals reduce stress, ease anxiety, and improve mood. But beyond biology, there’s something deeper: movement creates rhythm. A morning run, a soccer match, or a swim becomes a meditative pattern that steadies the mind. When life feels chaotic, sports offer structure and familiarity.

3. Teamwork and Belonging

In team sports especially, mental health thrives on connection. Shared goals, high-fives, and post-game reflections foster belonging—something essential to human well-being. For many athletes, the team becomes a support system that helps them navigate struggles off the field too. Even individual sports like running or swimming often come with communities—clubs, training partners, online groups—that reinforce this sense of togetherness.

4. Resilience Through Failure

Sports are filled with missed shots, close losses, and unexpected setbacks. Learning to fail gracefully—to analyze, adjust, and try again—is one of the greatest mental health lessons sports offer. It teaches emotional regulation and helps athletes process disappointment in healthy ways, skills that carry into relationships, careers, and daily life.

5. Mindfulness in Motion

There’s a unique kind of focus that happens when you’re fully immersed in the game. You’re not thinking about tomorrow’s to-do list or yesterday’s mistakes—you’re present. That state of flow is mindfulness in action. Athletes often describe it as being “in the zone,” but psychologists recognize it as a powerful way to reduce anxiety and improve mental clarity.

Final Whistle

Sports aren’t just about winning; they’re about well-being. They remind us that progress takes patience, that teamwork eases isolation, and that strength isn’t only measured in muscle. In every practice and every game, the body and mind work together—and that’s where true health begins.

When I first sat down to write my personal essay, I thought the words would flow easily. After all, I was writing about myself — my experiences, my goals, my story. But as soon as I opened the blank document, I froze.

The Block

I knew how important the essay was for college applications. It wasn’t just another homework assignment; it was supposed to capture who I am in a way that numbers and grades never could. That pressure weighed on me. Every sentence I started sounded either too cliché or not good enough. I found myself second-guessing everything: Is this story meaningful enough? Will an admissions officer care? Am I even explaining myself clearly?

The more I overthought, the less I wrote. Hours passed with only a few lines on the page. My biggest obstacle wasn’t a lack of ideas — it was the fear of not being perfect.

Overcoming the Block

What finally helped me was shifting my perspective:

• I stopped trying to impress. Instead, I asked myself, What would I say if I was telling my story to a close friend?That mindset made my writing more natural.
• I wrote without editing. At first, I just dumped thoughts onto the page. Later, I could refine them, but in the moment, I gave myself permission to write freely.
• I looked back at small moments. Instead of forcing a “big” story, I reflected on everyday experiences — things like helping my siblings, learning through setbacks, or finding joy in small victories. Those details felt authentic.
• I leaned on feedback. Sharing drafts with teachers and friends helped me see what parts resonated with others and gave me confidence to keep going.

What I Learned

Breaking through my mental block taught me that the personal essay isn’t about being perfect — it’s about being honest. Admissions officers don’t expect a polished novel; they want to hear my voice, see my growth, and understand what matters to me.

Once I let go of the pressure and just wrote from the heart, the words finally came. And in the process, I discovered not just how to tell my story, but also how to trust it.