Life after Sport

“Nothing could satisfy me outside the ring… there is nothing in life that can compare to becoming a world champion, having your hand raised in that moment of glory, with thousands, millions of people cheering you on.”

– Sugar Ray Leonard, Boxing Legend

Even champions have to retire someday.

Leonard is a perfect example of an elite athlete who dedicated his entire life to perfecting his craft.

And his struggles with retirement have been well documented. He suffered extreme bouts of depression, and he repeatedly made attempts to come back to the ring.

Sometimes the depression that comes from leaving success in a professional sport becomes so encompassing that these athletes commit suicide in retirement.

Some compare it to the loss of a partner or parent…

Athletic careers end in a mix of emotions, many of them centered on grief and loss.

There’s the loss of community when you’re no longer practicing and competing with and in front of others.

There’s the loss of no longer having your accomplishments recognized and admired by others.

There’s the loss of daily purpose and goals.

In a way, there’s the loss of your identity as a whole.

As an athlete, much of your identity and self-concept are tied to sports.

High-level athletes spend much of their young lives making extensive personal sacrifices to pursue and excel in their sport. Many of the social circles they develop revolve around sport, and many of those connections feel more like family ties.

Others come to define them (and they often define themselves) as high school or college athletes. When a person spends 20+ hours a week doing one activity while trying to keep up with school and attempting to have some sort of social life, it is almost impossible to be involved in any other organized activity.

When you’re an athlete, much of your life is sacrificed for your sport.

I know how lonely, overwhelming, and confusing this transition can be.

I grew up fencing, and it was my life for 15 years. Growing up, I never attended a homecoming dance or held a job because I was always training or traveling for competitions. I went to college on an athletic scholarship, where I continued training and traveling and then moved home for two years to train on a grant for the 2008 Olympics.

I missed making the Olympic team by one spot.

At the time, it felt like the culmination of an entire career of training and sacrifice had ended in failure.

I was devastated, lost, and felt completely alone. My other teammates, who were also close friends, were going on to achieve their dreams. But I was being left behind. Overnight, my professional fencing career was over.

Suddenly I had no purpose…

… an abundance of free time, no practices to attend, no peers to see, no community I belonged to, and no real reason to get out of bed in the morning.

I stayed in my room. I didn’t answer my phone. I deactivated all my social media.

I cried, I sulked, and I avoided everyone. I tried to shut the world out, turn my mind off. It felt far too overwhelming. I felt sad, angry, embarrassed, ashamed, angry, foolish, lost, and overwhelmed. It was all too much to comprehend. My life and identity were so tied to fencing. Without it, I didn’t know who I was or what I was getting up for in the morning.

I wish I could say I picked up the phone and made my therapy appointment, but my mom made the appointment and drove me to the office (thanks, Mom).

With the guidance of my therapist…

… I was able to take a step back and talk openly about the range of emotions I was feeling – the embarrassment of being so close but not close enough to make the team.

The guilt I felt for how much my family and coaches invested in me and my desire to make the Olympic team.

The shame I felt for failing publicly at my goal and after sacrificing so much of myself and time. There was also confusion and fear due to having no idea what I would do next and never even having a real job other than exercising 8 hours a day.

Through therapy, I learned that there’s a difference between “feeling” like a failure and being a failure. I did fail to make the Olympic team, but I was a great fencer. I gave it the best effort I had at that time, and I got really fucking close to making the team.

The next step was figuring out what I wanted to make the next phase of my life. Specifically, what excited me and brought me joy.

I needed to rediscover who I was without my athlete label.

During this self-reflection period, I realized some of the characteristics that made me a great athlete and teammate would translate to skills that would help me transition onto my new path.

Being an athlete could still be a part of my identity but in a different way. The traits I wanted to keep in my life included structure, hard work, and community.

I now had room to try new things such as spontaneity, creativity, psychology, and I could now have the freedom to have flexible priorities. I realized I was not losing my athlete identity but using it to develop into a truly happy, successful, and thriving person.

As you read this, no matter where you are, know that it will get better. Even at the deepest depths that you may fall to, as I did, you can come out the other end stronger because of it. For me, therapy was the game-changer. It helped me get off the couch and start the thinking and action I needed to start moving forward with my life, and it was this experience that inspired me to become a therapist myself.

As we know, behind every great athlete is a great coach.

I can tell you, it will take some time, it will be hard work, and it won’t always be easy, but you can’t be afraid to ask for help.

I would be honored to be that next coach who helps you tackle this next phase of life.

Let’s start the process!

Call (845) 418-3239 or email me at [email protected], and I will get you set up with a free 15-minute consultation phone call.