Why me
I retired by choice. The next day, I didn't know who I was.
Sport was my identity for as long as I can remember. I turned professional at 17 and played 18 seasons, and everything I believed about myself rested on how I performed.
In 2017 I chose to retire. I expected relief, or pride. What came was confusion, emptiness, and no sense of direction. Who was I without the game? What was my purpose now? One learns to be mentally tough as an athlete, but what happens to that toughness when the role of the athlete is gone?
It wasn't the first time something outside my control had taken from me. Earlier in my career, a bureaucratic ruling kept me out of the elite level for two years. I was good enough, and it made no difference. There was nobody to argue with and no appeal.
I didn't handle it well. I questioned everything: whether I had ever been good enough, whether the years of work meant anything, whether I was a failure. Shame, mostly, and I couldn't tell you why. It went on for years. It got dark enough that staying alive wasn't something I took for granted.
What turned it wasn't a moment. It was slow: reading, thinking, and finally looking straight at what had happened, when, and why it mattered, instead of avoiding it. Ignoring those feelings never made them disappear. That is the work I now do with other athletes.
Someone, somewhere, is just starting out, right where I once was. What if they didn't have to go through the same pain? What if someone could guide them through it?
