Progress takes time.
I look at people with the same physical build as mine, I observe them, I take in the smallest moves they make – and I just don't understand why they can stack points on points against the other team with their powerful serves while I can't. I used to think that it's because I'm short, I'm weak, I just can't do it. But I bike up a steep hill every day, I run miles and miles in the summer, and I will bet you a decent amount of money that I can beat you in pushups (maybe even pullups, on a particularly good day). So the explanation "I just physically cannot do it" seems to be a little too easy and not very accurate after all.
In reality, my biggest downfall is simply my impatience.
My self-proclaimed coach tells me I need to nail down my footwork before I should even be allowed to touch the ball, but I step once, twice, and then I'm done, I think I got it. I want, I need to hit the ball across the net and see results – right now. I need immediate validation of my efforts, to see that I've accomplished something already. I'm trying to build the tower of Babel after taking one "Intro to Engineering" course.
But that's the thing with progress. The goddamn thing takes time, and the real skill is to be patient enough to not turn a blind eye on what you have already accomplished, no matter how small.
Six months ago I had so much internal bleeding in my arms from a simple peppering (warm-up drill) session. I could not receive and, for the love of all that is holy, I absolutely could not set. My feet would freeze in place whenever the ball was headed my way and the team was watching me expectedly. No one trusted me to spike.
And look how far we've come from then.
The validation you need is often right there, you just need to remember where to look and at what angle. And always keep in mind that some things need to be taken one step at a time. Today, I put down the ball, face the mirror and try to perfect my footwork. It's boring, but sometimes you just have to do these things.