6:00 am: the alarm clock began to buzz waking me up from my restless sleep as I couldn’t relax in anticipation for today. I opened the window, only to see a dark lawn, as even the sun hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. I slowly packed my duffel bag and headed out into the morning cold. I drove to the school, where we then left to go to Tucson for a weekend volleyball tournament. My duffel bag housed all the necessary items for the tournament, shoes, jersey, snacks, and even a volleyball. All are necessary, however the most important item could be found in my pocket, something that I could retreat to, escape the world around me and my home away from home: my music.

Ever since a young age, I have always had a varied taste in music, including genres such as rock, country, hip-hop, pop, and even some occasional metal. Growing up, music always played throughout the house, I still remember the radio blaring “KNIX, 20 in a row” followed by songs such as “I Wanna Talk About Me” and “Something Like That”. While my mom introduced me to the world of country, my dad would relive his younger days playing old records from “Journey” and “Boston”, giving me an appreciation for classic rock. Overtime, my interests grew, evolving with popular culture and what I would happen to hear in passing. This varied assortment of musical influences built my general appreciation for music, and ever since, it has been my solace when I’m sad, ventilation when I’m mad, and cheerleader when I need encouragement.

Each and every song evokes a strong emotion, often triggering a memory that had occurred when I first heard it, or an important event that it symbolized. Because of this, I knew that I would be able to make it through the tournament with ease, because I had my entire life with me in my music.

As the trip began, I put on my headphones and drifted off, listening to a softer set of tunes, lulling me to sleep and taking away any anxiety about the upcoming tournament. It was like laying back down in my bed, with not a worry of what is to come in a sense of pure bliss and tranquility. I eventually woke up from my trance, still on the bus heading south towards Tucson. At this point, the coach had started to play music of his own, playing CD’s that some of the players had brought with them. Certain songs would evoke a chorus from the players on the bus, uniting us as a team, and solidifying yet another memory in the essence of music.

Upon arrival of the school, we unloaded the bus, and began to survey the gym, looking at the competition. After a brief survey of the court, we took our spot in the gym and began warm-ups. I put on my headphones and escaped to my second home. Once inside, I made my way to the “workout room” where I began to train for the upcoming game. Back in the real world, hard hitting beats blared through my headphones, putting an extra bounce in my step and getting me focused for the game.

It was finally time to start the game, so I left my “house” and took my place on the court. The lyrics still spun in my head, evoking a heightened sense of excitement. In a long grueling game, we fought point for point, barely winning the match to a team that should have been a blow off match. I knew I hadn’t played my best, and when my coach called me I knew I was not going to be receiving any praise.

“What was that out there?” the coach barked at me.

“I Don’t know, I’m just not warmed up that’s all”.

“Do you even want to play? Because I have plenty of other players who can easily replace you. Whatever is wrong, fix it, otherwise I don’t even need you on the team!”

The words stung like knives impaling my skin. I knew I hadn’t played my best, however I knew I did not deserve a response like the one I had just received. “I don’t belong on the team?!” I angrily said aloud. The more I thought about it, the more anger that welled up inside of me. I had gotten to a point of pure rage that I just needed to avoid all contact with anyone and just vent.

I found solitude in my music, where I played songs that matched my emotional angst. Screaming lyrics and violent guitar riffs poured from my headphones, matching my frustration and directing it in a non-violent manner. Like a punching bag, I was able to dump all my problems on the music and allow it to calm me down and motivate me to prove my coach wrong.

This newfound motivation soon paid off, as I began to play better, and as a team we moved through our opponents with relative ease. Finally, the tournament had whittled down to just four teams, and we were among them in the semi finals. In the final moments of the match, we were ahead by 3 points, poised to win and move on to the final match; that’s when tragedy struck. I jumped up to block an attack, and in my descent, I landed on the tip of my foot. My full bodyweight came crashing down on my ankle, causing it to contort in a violent manner. A loud pop emitted from the joint, and I hit the floor with a resounding thud in a split second. I took some time to process exactly what had happened, and when I finally realized that I had broken my ankle, a wash of panic swept over me.

“Can I finish the Game?” “Will my team need me?” “Can we still win?” All these questions were buzzing in my head as I slowly limped off the court to the trainer’s office. I sat in the office in anticipation of how the game would turn out; the few minutes I spent there felt like an eternity, until the trainer finally came back.

“Not to add insult to injury, but your team just lost”, I sat in silence staring at the trainer as it this were some sick joke. It must have been a few seconds before I snapped out of my strange gawk, because the trainer stared at me in a perplexed manner and asked, “Are you okay?”

The fact of the matter was that I was not ok; I had fought this whole tournament, just to fail at the last minute. I retreated into my music, flipping through song after song, a whirlwind of emotions and memories sweeping over me. Songs from my childhood; like old photos hanging on the wall. Songs of encouragement; like parents consoling me through a hard time. Songs I didn’t want to listen to; like my brothers bothering me on a constant basis. My music helped me cope with the pain of not being able participate any further in the tournament, it was my sanctuary and it was my window to the real world, where my emotions could flow freely.

On the long bus ride home, the bus moved along in dead silence. Everyone had their headphones on, each escaping to their own home where they could deal with the heartbreak of coming so close to victory. This is the power that music has on us, it can move us in the greatest ways by paralleling our emotions, fronting their force and redirecting them in a positive way. I know for a fact that I would be lost without my music, and I know when I am old and far away from my home and childhood, I will always have an open door to those memories through my music.