At age twelve I was a competitive gymnast grappling with an irrational fear of flipping. My self-worth was wrapped up in my ability to perform. So, when my mind and body fell out of unison, I was devastated. My entire body felt as if it was stuttering, leaving me frozen in place. I had the ultimate golden ticket, my Charlie and the Chocolate Factory moment come to life. A freshman in high school and already committed to a D-1 school on a full athletic scholarship. Gymnastics captivated me and my body was built for the sport. So, why would I retire from my beloved gymnastics? To discover why, I began weekly sports therapy sessions. I also began secretly cutting. Both therapy and cutting gave me temporary relief from pressure and feelings of failure. However, the minute I hit the mat for an event, I found myself back in mental anguish. After eleven years, I made the weighty decision to retire from gymnastics and focus on reclaiming my mental and emotional health. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. In the center he wrote all the words that described me, but gymnast wasn’t one of them. In that moment, I began to see myself holistically and find self-worth in the qualities that filled that circle, the qualities that were purely me. I was no longer just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. That spring, I refocused my athletic and educational energies. The freedom and success I enjoyed as a sprinter on the high school track team fueled my inner athlete. At the same time, International Baccalaureate Biology and Advanced Placement Psychology courses opened my mind to the possibility of a career. My focus as a psychiatrist will be on young, high performing athletes, struggling with mental blocks and anxiety. I want to use my experiences as a D1 level athlete, the skills that I gain from my neuroscience major at the University of Michigan, and ultimately my medical degree from Michigan’s School of Medicine, to create therapy regimens that teach athletes innovative methods for relieving mental pressure. Using what I learned about the connections of mind and body, I want to create therapy regimens that teach young athletes innovative methods for relieving mental pressure. The true golden ticket is having the inner power to prioritize one’s mental health over all else. Zara Waddell Jordan, MD will help dispel the stigma around mental wellness and help athletes reach their goals. Simone left behind Olympic medals, and I walked away from a D1 scholarship. But we both gained our wellness. My clients will ascertain that having the

My reflection catches in the mirror; skin lathered in lotion, hair aglow with the perfect concoction of products, my beauty on full display. From an early age it was instilled in me to exude confidence, and appreciate my unique qualities. But those qualities aren’t appreciated in mainstream America. They are minimally reflected on social media, and nearly absent from my fairly stark White community. Growing up in California, you are bound to have a kaleidoscope of friends garnering celebrated hair textures from 1a to 2c. A stark contrast to my 4a textured roots. As a result, you are always aware of your physical differences, but never did I consider these differences to be detriments. Black girls are impacted by a society that overvalues a certain “look.” They discover that people sometimes use the unique in us to ridicule—often without understanding the hurtful ramifications of the “joke.” On September 27, 2014, when I was nearly eleven years old, I became the butt of such a joke. My multi-racial group of friends had planned a Halloween costume shopping trip. That day I wore my curls free for the first time. As we shopped, one of my friends said, "Z, YOU should be a clown, because you won't need to buy a wig." My eyes stung with tears. Before I knew it, my mom spoke with fire. She talked about the rich history my beautiful crown represented. “The clown was the statement my dear, not her hair.” I was strengthened that day. Today you may find me wearing a huge poof, braids down my back, silk pressed hair—whatever I command of my flexible mane. It is my unique crown and I wear it proudly.

When I was in elementary school, my mother told me her friend, Mrs. Medina wanted to build a classroom library for her fifth graders. “Choose books you want to donate,” she said. “And she really needs chapter books.” I was a fifth grader and loved sharing my books. At the end of the next two school years, I donated books, but it didn’t feel like enough. By then I’d overheard too many of the students’ stories. Stories of hardship, tragedy and challenges I couldn’t imagine facing. I wanted to do more. I wanted to lighten their load, if only for a while. I was now in the seventh grade and the holidays were approaching. I asked my mom if we could do something special for Mrs. Medina’s students. With her help, we decided that my family would give a student’s family a special Christmas. The 10-year-old’s list was short and didn’t include electronic this or designer that. I was taken aback and suddenly grateful for my privileged life as I read: “Warm blankets for my Abuela, socks and underwear for my little sister.” This child’s reality was incarcerated parents and a grandmother struggling to buy groceries. A Christmas tree and “fun” gifts weren’t a part of her world. I was determined to bring a little joy to this little girl. On Christmas day, we drove forty-five minutes in two cars filled with gifts. Through the window I studied a city draped in poverty. Liquor-store lined streets and decaying buildings. Noticeably bumpy uneven pavement. Then I spied a petite frame waiting on the curb for us to bring Christmas. Her smiling bright-eyed face struggled to contain her excitement. We unloaded coats and undergarments; toiletries; linens; food for a feast; and electronics and toys that no one had asked for. The family looked so happy. So appreciative. That made me immensely happy. Over the past four years, the Jordan’s Adopt-a-Family Program has partnered with Mrs. Medina to identify students who need support. Today, we collect donations, make deliveries and help relieve the financial and emotional burden of Christmas for several families each year.

At age twelve I was a competitive gymnast grappling with an irrational fear of flipping. My self-worth was wrapped up in my ability to perform. So, when my mind and body fell out of unison, I was devastated. My entire body felt as if it was stuttering, leaving me frozen in place. I had the ultimate golden ticket, my Charlie and the Chocolate Factory moment come to life. A freshman in high school and already committed to a D-1 school on a full athletic scholarship. Gymnastics captivated me and my body was built for the sport. So, why would I retire from my beloved gymnastics? To discovery why, I began weekly sports therapy sessions. I also began secretly cutting. Both therapy and cutting gave me temporary relief from pressure and feelings of failure. However, the minute I hit the mat for an event, I found myself back in mental anguish. After eleven years, I made the weighty decision to retire from gymnastics and focus on reclaiming my mental and emotional health. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. In the center he wrote all the words that described me, but gymnast wasn’t one of them. In that moment, I began to see myself holistically and find self-worth in the qualities that filled that circle, the qualities that were purely me. I was no longer just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. That spring, I refocused my athletic and educational energies. The freedom and success I enjoyed as a sprinter on the high school track team fueled my inner athlete. At the same time, International Baccalaureate Biology and Advanced Placement Psychology courses opened my mind to the possibility of a career. Using what I learned about the connections of mind and body, I want to create therapy regimens that teach young athletes innovative methods for relieving mental pressure. The true golden ticket is having the inner power to prioritize one’s mental health over all else.

My Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fantasy had come true. I was a high school freshman and had already committed to attend a Division 1 college on a full-ride athletic scholarship. Excellence as a gymnast was the price of this ultimate golden ticket. I was built for gymnastics. And yet, I was considering retiring from my beloved sport. When it came to gymnastics, no matter what the skill, I always wanted to go for it. But few people knew that I began grappling with an irrational fear of “flipping” when I was 12. I could feel myself pushing my body to move forward, but it stuttered and I stayed pinned in place. Frozen. My body refusing to flip. I was devastated by this realization because my self-worth was intertwined with my ability to perform. To understand and control my fear, I began weekly sports therapy sessions. I also began secretly “cutting.” Each provided its own kind of temporary relief from the pressure to perform and feelings of failure. But the minute I hit the mat I was again enveloped in mental anguish. Nonetheless, the need to compete was stronger than the fear. I’d ready myself for a vault, applying my coach’s feedback. I always visualized the movement before I willed myself to bound down the dark blue mat. Five, six, seven, eight. Then I’d soar onto the vault table. When it was over, I readied myself to attempt it again, ignoring my mental block and my body’s resistance. Then I tore a labrum in my shoulder, which I still hid from everyone until the pain became nearly unbearable. The December of my freshman year I reluctantly underwent surgery. Time away from the gym gave my body a chance to heal and allowed me to reflect on the swirl of thoughts in my head. I concluded that gymnastics was depleting me. With 30-hours-a-week no longer devoted to gymnastics, I began carving out healing joyous spaces in my life, freeing me to be more involved in school, have a more active social life, and spend time on other sports and art. One year after my surgery was a blissful time as the holiday season and my sweet sixteen birthday celebration approached. It was then that I retired from gymnastics after eleven years of total immersion. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach and watched as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. Inside of the circle he wrote words that described me. Gymnast was not among them. I began to see myself as the person whose unique qualities exemplify the words written in the circle. I no longer felt like I was just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. Participating in competitive gymnastics brought me joy and pride. I placed in virtually every meet in which I competed, winning scores and scores of clinking medals. My biggest victory, however, was finding the resolve to safeguard my mental well-being and realize that my self-worth was never tied to my athletic prowess alone; it was a concoction of sacrifice, sheer will, grit and commitment to continuous self-improvement. I was, and remain a resilient powerhouse of a force from within. In the spring of my sophomore year I discovered freedom and success as a sprinter on my high school track team. Sprinting fueled my inner athlete without inner angst. At the same time, my International Baccalaureate Biology and Advanced Placement Psychology classes altered my sense of what I have to offer others. This culminated in my decision to seek a career supporting young athletes by creating therapy regimens that teach alternative methods for relieving mental pressure. My true golden ticket is having the inner courage to prioritize health over all else and using the lessons learned to help others do the same.

My Charlie in the Chocolate Factory fantasy had come to life. I was a freshman in high school and committed to a division one college on a full-ride athletic scholarship, gifted with the ultimate golden ticket. I knew that I was perfectly built for the sport. So, why would I retire from my beloved gymnastics? At twelve-years-old I was grappling with my irrational fear of flipping. My self-worth was wrapped in my ability to perform. So, when my mind and body fell out of unison, I was devastated. My entire body quipped as if it was stuttering. Frozen in place, my body refused to flip. I’d ready myself to do vault, acknowledging and applying my coach’s feedback. I set myself at my starting point, marked with beige masking tape. Always taking a moment to visualize the movement before I willed myself to bound down the dark blue mat. Five, six, seven, eight, AND I soared onto the vault table. I readied myself to attempt the skill AGAIN. All the while, ignoring my mental blocks and my body’s hesitancy to perform. I began weekly sports therapy sessions and secretly cutting because I wanted to find resolve. Both therapy and cutting gave me temporary relief from the pressure and feelings of failure. However, the minute I hit the mat, I found myself in mental anguish. I tore my labrum. Internally driven to practice and compete, I hid my injury until the pain reached a fever pitch. That December, I reluctantly underwent shoulder surgery. The much-needed time away from the gym gave me a chance to heal my body and navigate the swirl of thoughts in my head. I found that gymnastics was depleting me. I intentionally began to carve out both healing and joyous space in my life. A year later, the holiday season and my sweet sixteen were fast approaching. It was during that blissful time, that I made the decision to retire from gymnastics after eleven years of devotion. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. He wrote all the words that described me inside of it, but gymnast wasn’t one of them. In that moment, I began to see myself holistically and I found self-worth in the other qualities that filled that circle, the qualities that were purely me. I was no longer just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. I had a plethora of victories culminating in high scores and clinking medals. However, my biggest victory was finally letting go and choosing to preserve my mental well-being and self-worth. Over time, I learned that my self-worth wasn’t singularly tied to my athletic prowess; it was a concoction of sacrifice, sheer will, grit and commitment to continuous self-improvement. I alone was a force from within, resilient, a powerhouse. That spring, I reinvented myself. The freedom and the success I found as a sprinter on the high school track team fueled my inner athlete. Meanwhile, my courses in IB Biology and AP Psychology opened my mind to a world of new opportunities about my future endeavors. My future studies and work will be dedicated to supporting young athletes. It is my intention to create therapy regimens that teach athletes alternative methods to relieve mental pressure. The true golden ticket is having the inner power and freedom to prioritize one’s health over all else.

My Charlie in the Chocolate Factory fantasy had come to life. I was a freshman in high school and committed to a division one college on a full-ride athletic scholarship, gifted with the ultimate golden ticket. I knew that I was perfectly built for the sport. So, why would I retire from my beloved gymnastics? At twelve-years-old I was grappling with my irrational fear of flipping. My self-worth was wrapped in my ability to perform. So, when my mind and body fell out of unison, I was devastated. My entire body quipped as if it was stuttering. Frozen in place, my body refused to flip. I’d ready myself to do vault, acknowledging and applying my coach’s feedback. I set myself at my starting point, marked with beige masking tape. Always taking a moment to visualize the movement before I willed myself to bound down the dark blue mat. Five, six, seven, eight, AND I soared onto the vault table. I readied myself to attempt the skill AGAIN. All the while, ignoring my mental blocks and my body’s hesitancy to perform. I began weekly sports therapy sessions and secretly cutting because I wanted to find resolve. Both therapy and cutting gave me temporary relief from the pressure and feelings of failure. However, the minute I hit the mat, I found myself in mental anguish. I tore my labrum. Internally driven to practice and compete, I hid my injury until the pain reached a fever pitch. That December, I reluctantly underwent shoulder surgery. The much-needed time away from the gym gave me a chance to heal my body and navigate the swirl of thoughts in my head. I found that gymnastics was depleting me. I intentionally began to carve out both healing and joyous space in my life. A year later, the holiday season and my sweet sixteen were fast approaching. It was during that blissful time, that I made the decision to retire from gymnastics after eleven years of devotion. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. He wrote all the words that described me inside of it, but gymnast wasn’t one of them. In that moment, I began to see myself holistically and I found self-worth in the other qualities that filled that circle, the qualities that were purely me. I was no longer just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. I had a plethora of victories culminating in high scores and clinking medals. However, my biggest victory was finally letting go and choosing to preserve my mental well-being and self-worth. Over time, I learned that my self-worth wasn’t singularly tied to my athletic prowess; it was a concoction of sacrifice, sheer will, grit and commitment to continuous self-improvement. I alone was a force from within, resilient, a powerhouse. That spring, I reinvented myself. The freedom and the success I found as a sprinter on the high school track team fueled my inner athlete. Meanwhile, my courses in IB Biology and AP Psychology opened my mind to a world of new opportunities about my future endeavors. My future studies and work will be dedicated to supporting young athletes. It is my intention to create therapy regimens that teach athletes alternative methods to relieve mental pressure. The true golden ticket is having the inner power and freedom to prioritize one’s health over all else.

My Charlie in the Chocolate Factory fantasy had come to life. I was a freshman in high school and committed to a division one college on a full-ride athletic scholarship, gifted with the ultimate golden ticket. I knew that I was perfectly built for the sport. So, why would I retire from my beloved gymnastics? At twelve-years-old I was grappling with my irrational fear of flipping. My self-worth was wrapped in my ability to perform. So, when my mind and body fell out of unison, I was devastated. My entire body quipped as if it was stuttering. Frozen in place, my body refused to flip. I’d ready myself to do vault, acknowledging and applying my coach’s feedback. I set myself at my starting point, marked with beige masking tape. Always taking a moment to visualize the movement before I willed myself to bound down the dark blue mat. Five, six, seven, eight, AND I soared onto the vault table. I readied myself to attempt the skill AGAIN. All the while, ignoring my mental blocks and my body’s hesitancy to perform. I began weekly sports therapy sessions and secretly cutting because I wanted to find resolve. Both therapy and cutting gave me temporary relief from the pressure and feelings of failure. However, the minute I hit the mat, I found myself in mental anguish. I tore my labrum. Internally driven to practice and compete, I hid my injury until the pain reached a fever pitch. That December, I reluctantly underwent shoulder surgery. The much-needed time away from the gym gave me a chance to heal my body and navigate the swirl of thoughts in my head. I found that gymnastics was depleting me. I intentionally began to carve out both healing and joyous space in my life. A year later, the holiday season and my sweet sixteen were fast approaching. It was during that blissful time, that I made the decision to retire from gymnastics after eleven years of devotion. On my last day in the gym, I sat in front of my coach as he drew a circle on a piece of paper. He wrote all the words that described me inside of it, but gymnast wasn’t one of them. In that moment, I began to see myself holistically and I found self-worth in the other qualities that filled that circle, the qualities that were purely me. I was no longer just a gymnast. I was, I am, Zara. I had a plethora of victories culminating in high scores and clinking medals. However, my biggest victory was finally letting go and choosing to preserve my mental well-being and self-worth. Over time, I learned that my self-worth wasn’t singularly tied to my athletic prowess; it was a concoction of sacrifice, sheer will, grit and commitment to continuous self-improvement. I alone was a force from within, resilient, a powerhouse. That spring, I reinvented myself. The freedom and the success I found as a sprinter on the high school track team fueled my inner athlete. Meanwhile, my courses in IB Biology and AP Psychology opened my mind to a world of new opportunities about my future endeavors. My future studies and work will be dedicated to supporting young athletes. It is my intention to create therapy regimens that teach athletes alternative methods to relieve mental pressure. The true golden ticket is having the inner power and freedom to prioritize one’s health over all else.