I’ve found that when you ask an athlete how they are, you most often get a smile and an “I’m okay”. We are expected to be mentally strong because we are physically strong. My name is Indira and I am a sophomore on the women’s lacrosse team, and last year I was that athlete lying straight to everyone’s face with an “I’m okay”, convinced that I didn’t need help and that was I okay when I was far, far from it.

Growing up I was taught that any sort of doubt or weakness stemmed from not working hard enough. There was some sort of external action such as extra sprints, more weight, more reps that would cure any depressive thoughts. I entered freshman year with this mindset and attempted to fight through inconsistency within my performance, homesickness, personal trauma, and then an injury that benched me for most of the season. I showed up to practice every day with a fake smile on my face as I stood injured on the sidelines and I began to lose who I was. Lacrosse was the one thing that I had always found myself in and now that was taken from me. I had laid all my self-worth out on the turf and allowed every word from the coaches or mistake in practice to chip away at it, opening the door for an injury to destroy it completely. Even still I told myself I was okay because that’s what I thought was expected. As the season went on, my thoughts only got worse and bad habits stemmed that was just fuel to the fire of self-hatred. I could not put my head down, push away the feelings, and work harder, do MORE to somehow fix this overwhelming rise of thoughts drowning my self-worth, happiness, and even my desire to live. After a comment I made was overheard by a teammate, she involved one of my coaches and interventions were put into place. At first, I was angry because someone intervened on how it was supposed to work: if I couldn’t contribute to the team physically and couldn’t work harder to fix it, then what value did I have? But as the love of those aware of the situation started to break the walls I had built up, and hard conversations were encouraged, my depression acknowledged instead of shoved into the box of ways I fell short, I finally saw a glimmer of light. As I engaged in these conversations, rarely did they even mention my sport. I was asked who I was outside of lacrosse for the first time and I realized that I have worth despite my performance. I had felt alone because I had focused so much on always pushing myself to be better than I was that I had neglected creating relationships where I felt safe not being okay. Through these realizations and formation of relationships I can confidently say that lacrosse does not define me nor put a value on my worth. The urge to say we’re okay because we’re supposed to be strong, is something that plagues too many. I am here today because someone stepped in when I was drowning. They did not take away from my strength; they simply lent some of theirs while I found my own again so that I could become the strongest version of myself. Vocalizing that you are struggling does not make you weak, it’s using the resources and relationships around you to become stronger. That is the extra rep, the heavier weight that pushes you to the next level.

-Indira

GVSU Lacrosse

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