TW: suicidal ideation, eating disorder
Being an athlete has brought out both my greatest strengths and my most challenging traits. Perfectionism, an all-or-nothing mindset, obsession, and addiction are qualities that have driven my athletic success, yet they also contributed to my mental health struggles. In high school I grew to be ranked on a national level very quickly for track and field and felt invincible, yet I didn’t realize that I was defeating myself internally. My rapid success led me to place immense pressure and expectations on myself. Knowing that I had gotten so far so fast I expected myself to keep excelling at this fast pace forever and was terrified of falling off this pedestal I had put myself on.
I knew I was putting in my best effort in training, so I turned my focus to other factors like sleep and eating habits. I created a rigid daily schedule, leaving no room for anything I deemed unproductive. If I failed to accomplish everything on my list, I would be consumed by anxiety and shame. This need for control began to seep into every aspect of my life, including my diet. Counting calories became an obsession. Eating less and weighing less felt like progress, almost like a game I was determined to win. Yet no amount of success ever felt like enough. There was always another goal, another way to push myself harder. My anorexia became an abusive relationship with myself; a relentless cycle of self-criticism, punishment, and unattainable expectations. I constantly belittled myself, driving my body to the brink through starvation and excessive exercise, all in pursuit for some sense of worth and accomplishment.
All throughout my eating disorder recovery I had thoughts of suicide, I didn’t want to live in a body that wouldn’t allow me to achieve my dreams. In my head, if I didn’t look small and lean then I wouldn’t perform well. All my worth came from my sport. Without that success I thought I would be unlovable, unworthy of life, and invaluable. I let my success define me as so many athletes do, and it made me miserable. Although my self-worth improved immensely during recovery, when I came to college, I fell right back into eating disorder habits and my suicidal thoughts increased. I had always dreamed of competing at the Division 1 level, but I never realized just how draining and challenging it could be. Injuries and constant stress to perform well in every area of life left me in a bad head space for months.
This is not just my story, but the sad reality many other athletes face. We’re expected to be strong, to push through pain, be the image of health, and to never show weakness. So, we hide behind masks, suppressing our struggles as we try to live up to these dehumanizing standards. Speaking up can be terrifying, and sometimes, you don’t even want anyone to intervene. But what I’ve come to realize is that I’d rather change the way I’m living then stop living altogether.
There is so much help available, and people who care about you, some of whom you may not even realize yet. Using these resources has changed my life. Not only have I overcome my struggles; I now use my experiences to help others by sharing my story through mental health advocacy. I started a podcast called I Think I Need Therapy and work with organizations like The Hidden Opponent to bring these conversations to light and help others who are facing the same things in silence. Knowing that my story is helping others gives me a deeper sense of purpose and the strength to keep fighting for myself, and for everyone my story touches.
Please keep fighting and know that you are worthy of a beautiful life.
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