TW: death
As a former basketball coach, I often encouraged my players to screen selfishly. At first glance, setting a screen seems like one of the most selfless acts on the court, but it also has a hidden benefit: it helps you get open. Reflecting on my mental health journey over the past 23 years and the launch of my public speaking business, "The Maley Way," this analogy resonates deeply with me. While I initially thought sharing my story was purely altruistic, I’ve found it incredibly therapeutic as well. Speaking about these issues at schools and community organizations has become my way of setting a screen.
You can learn more about my experience with depression on my website or my Instagram, but I want to focus on the inspiration behind this movement and what keeps me motivated. My mother, Pat Maley, was my first source of inspiration. During my coaching career, I had to take a brief leave to address a significant episode. When I returned, my instinct was to hide the truth, but my mother urged me, "Jimmy, you can’t lie. Someone might hear your story and seek help because of it." She was absolutely right.
After witnessing the positive impact of my story on a few kids on my team, I began sharing my experiences with individual students who were struggling. A couple of years later, I faced a pivotal moment when my mother passed away from a heart attack at 65, and I had the honor of delivering her eulogy. I shared many stories and anecdotes about her, but I took a risk by publicly disclosing how she had supported me during my battles with depression. That day, I committed to advocating for mental health awareness in her memory. I closed with these words:
“Thirty years from now, when that St. Laurence player, that Conant player, or anyone listening today gets a knock on their office door and sees that familiar look in someone’s eyes, I know my mom will be smiling in heaven, knowing that her legacy of helping others will live on.”
From that moment, I started helping students individually, encouraging them to seek the support they needed. About two years later, our student services department asked if they could gather all the physical education classes for a presentation on depression and suicide prevention. I saw this as a chance to further my mom’s legacy and requested to share my story. I spoke for about 30 minutes during the first period, and I could feel the impact—there was complete silence, no phones in sight, and even tears in the audience. I ended up speaking for eight consecutive periods to the entire junior and senior class. It was exhausting but incredibly rewarding, and I received heartfelt thank-you notes and testimonials from students and staff.
I spoke at another school with similar results, but then Covid hit. Honestly, the pandemic pushed me into the darkest place I had ever experienced, leading to my first and only experience with suicidal thoughts. I had to take a leave of absence from school and coaching and was subsequently hospitalized. During those five days, I underwent a significant change in my medication and received self-care tips that transformed my life. A month later, I felt better than ever and have continued to feel that way. However, I made a crucial decision: I needed to prioritize myself and my family. I couldn’t put the school or the basketball program in that position again, so I stepped down. A reporter from the Daily Herald called to ask why I was leaving. I told him the truth about my mental health struggles. When he asked if I was sure I wanted him to write about it, I said yes.
A few days later, I received this message from a student who had seen the article:
“I don’t think we’ve ever crossed paths, but I’ve had you on my mind for over a year now. You saved my life. In 2019, I was having an extraordinarily difficult time coming to school, laughing, or doing basically anything. Between a really horrible friend group, a tough academic year, and years of anxiety, I was a shell of the person I used to be, and many people were concerned about me. When I heard you speak about your depression during my 7th-period gym class, it helped me identify what was happening and acknowledge that I needed help. I vividly remember sitting in the auditorium, tears streaming down my face…”
While that email deeply moved me and motivated me to continue, I knew I had to prioritize my own well-being and that of my family first. Years passed, and I continued speaking at my school with similar results. It wasn’t until I saw a colleague’s post raising money for depression awareness and suicide prevention that I felt compelled to be fully transparent about my own struggles to support his efforts. I began sharing clips from a speech I had given years earlier, and I was amazed at the response. A local boutique even featured me on their Instagram and blog, sparking a snowball effect. I’ve since booked numerous speaking engagements, created a website, started an LLC, and launched an Instagram account. My goal is to expand my audience and allow my mom's vision—now transformed into "The Maley Way"—to flourish.
While I'm focused on setting great screens for others, I'm also seeking to get open for my own mental health.
Comments