When I enter the ring, I feel the weight of the hammer in my hands. A mix of metal, my glove and expectation. Most people only see the weight of the implement, but what they don’t see is the mental weight that lingers long after my throw: the anxiety, stress and depression that doesn’t release as gracefully as the hammer does.
The weight I feel has the power to determine the course of my day. It doesn’t matter if I have a very important exam or even a fun dinner planned with friends. If I am having a rough practice, the hope to have a good day disappears, and I am pulled down into a dark spiral of negative thoughts.
When having bad practices, I’ve noticed how it’s usually tied to the stressors from juggling such a hectic life. I will be in the middle of a workout thinking, “I wish I could just go home and sleep for the rest of the day, but instead, I have to lift, do homework, cook dinner, do laundry, take an exam, do a team activity, do community service, clean my house …” The list never ends.
For the average student, those tasks might feel a little daunting but pretty normal, but as an athlete, they can feel crushing. After a tough practice, even something as simple as cooking myself dinner feels like running a marathon. By then, I’m not just physically exhausted, I am mentally drained.
Sometimes the hardest part of being an athlete isn’t the schedule or exhaustion; it’s the silence.
As athletes, we are taught to be strong and act like nothing gets to us.
That is, of course, unless you have a physical injury, then you get sympathy, an ice bag and a rehab program, not to mention the messages and concerns about your injury.
When struggling with mental health, this scenario looks dramatically different. If you have a panic or anxiety attack at practice, you quietly rush to the bathroom and hope nobody notices. You come back to practice like nothing happened – like you aren’t breaking down inside and out.
If you get overstimulated from the loud music, your heavy thoughts and the weight of the pressures put on you, you’re expected to just get over it with no messages or concerns on how you are doing.
This is why many athletes are hesitant to share their stories and struggles. We have been trained to keep our game faces on and be ready to go at all times, even if underneath those game faces we may be breaking down.
I feel encouraged to share my story, not just to grow closer to a personal best in the hammer throw, but also to be closer to a personal best in my life.
Athletes must recognize their feelings are valid, and it’s more than okay to reach out for help, no
matter how they think others will view them.
One of the most helpful resources I use to deal with my personal struggles is “Be HERD,“ a branch of the Counseling Center on campus. From my visits with the staff, I have begun to be more vocal about the struggles I am facing as a student athlete.
My hope is by speaking up, more athletes will find the strength to share their own stories and lift some of the weight off their minds because at the end of the day, success is not measured in points, wins, distances or times; it’s in the courage to keep balancing the burden and to speak up when it feels too heavy.
Lilli Ross can be contacted at [email protected]
