“Your pain isn’t real.”
“Tough it out.”
“Ignore how bad it hurts and keep going.”
These were all common phrases that would echo across the football field during our two-a-day practices in the 102-degree Texas heat. We were told that, in order for us to be great, we had to go beyond our limits, ignore the voice in our heads telling us to quit, and line up for the next rep. Going on to win 3 state championships in 4 years, this mentality served our team well in high school. What I failed to realize is this mentality had its limitations, especially when it came to life outside of sports.
“I felt that my dream kept slipping farther and farther away.”
Going into my junior year of college, after a torn ACL and debilitating back pain that kept me out the last two seasons, I was finally ready to fulfill my dream of being a collegiate athlete. But the years off football rehabbing my body severely diminished my technical skills and mentality. I was missing tackles and making simple mistakes. I was afraid to get hurt again, playing way below my potential. I felt that my dream kept slipping farther and farther away.
“The pain I was feeling wasn’t physical, it was something else. Something I had never experienced before.”
I became distraught, and eventually, numb. I would show up to practice, go through the motions, and leave. Football began to feel like a chore. I felt like I had failed not only myself, but the coaches who had recruited me, as well as my friends and family back home who all bragged about my status as a collegiate athlete. Even though I hated it, I kept showing up. I struggled to get through practice and didn’t tell anyone how I was feeling. Those phrases kept cycling through my head; “Tough it out, ignore how bad it hurts and keep going, your pain isn’t real.” But the pain I was feeling wasn’t physical, it was something else. Something I had never experienced before.
“No matter how bad it got, I never spoke about how truly terrible my mental health had become.”
My apathy toward football spread to other parts of my life. I began to resent going to class, I began to distance myself from my friends, and I stopped caring about taking care of myself. I was burnt out. When I wasn’t forcing myself to go to practice in the morning, I was usually locked away in my dorm, ignoring the growing pile of trash and clothes, curled up under a blanket and wishing that someone or something would make the feeling go away. It got so bad that I would begin dreaming about getting hurt again just so I had a reason to stop playing. But no matter how bad it got, I never spoke about how truly terrible my mental health had become.
“And for once, I had the courage to admit that my pain was real.”
Thankfully, after months of struggling to simply get out of bed in the morning, I found the strength to start taking steps towards loving football, and more importantly, loving myself again. It didn’t happen all at once. It started with my coach reaching out to me and asking, “Is everything okay?”
And for once, I had the courage to admit that my pain was real.