At the start of my sophomore year, after years spent dedicated to playing soccer, I was diagnosed with a severe tarsal coalition in my left ankle. With numerous doctor referrals and varying approaches at alleviating the pain, how I was still playing at this level shocked those who actually knew the extent of my injury. 

A tarsal coalition is a genetic condition in which an abnormal connection forms between two or more bones in the rear of the foot, producing persistent stiffness and a fully collapsed arch. 

Despite this diagnosis, I was determined to remain on the field, pushing myself even if it meant being sidelined for weeks at a time. What I didn’t realize, however, was that the non-surgical treatments prescribed would provide relief for only one year before the excruciating pain in my foot returned.

I had just started a third season with my club soccer team while still playing at Marcus my junior year. My definition of being an athlete involved never letting anyone perceive me as weak. This meant that although my left foot ached constantly, I never let it show.

Despite this effort, my ankle eventually reached its breaking point, and the cumulative strain from constant play finally revealed itself. The mental effort required to push the pain to a place where I didn’t have to acknowledge came to light all at once, making it obvious to not just me that this was more than a typical ankle injury. My club coach immediately knew, just by the agonized expression on my face when asking to be taken out of the game, that this time was more than just a flare-up. 

The clock had run out on temporary fixes, and accepting surgery as the only option was terrifying. Would I recover in time for my senior season? Would the issue truly be fixed? Was playing college soccer still realistic? Dreading that these answers may not result in my favor, I knew what was best for me and in March 2025, the end of my junior season, I underwent ankle reconstruction surgery.

Often a topic of discussion that gets swept under the rug, athlete mental health is an important subject to be mindful about. Whether it’s injury-related struggles, performance pressure, anxiety, or burnout, one of the things that motivated me to stick with soccer on some of its most heartbreaking days was the fact that I am not alone in my battle. In the words of NBA basketball player Kevin Love: “Mental Health is an invisible thing, but it touches all of us at some point or another. It’s part of life.” 

We’ve all been through it-breaking down after a bad game, a coach who made you lose your passion, frustration with a lack of progress, no longer loving the game. But the moment you realize you’re not owned by your sport is the moment you can begin playing freely again.

Research highlighted by Athletes for Hope reported that 34% of athletes experienced anxiety or depression symptoms. Creating a space where athletes can reach out for help is only possible if they know they’re not alone.

It’s hard to pick your head up after a mistake. It’s hard to have hope when an injury has prevented you from playing. It’s hard to stay confident when you feel it being drained by a coach who doesn’t believe in you. It’s hard to rediscover the same love little-you had for the game. It’s important to remind yourself you can do hard things, but it’s more important to prioritize your well-being. 

It is universal for athletes to base their self-worth on how well they perform. Personally, I let myself reach burnout; I let a coach destroy me mentally; I let how I played in games determine how I viewed myself as a human being. Now that the opportunity to play has been taken away, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum-playing too much versus not at all. 

To any athlete facing injury: remember that this adversity does not define you, but how you respond does. I am allowed to be angry, sad, and scared about my unexpected delay in returning to the field. Regardless, there is hope even if I don’t see it now. I have access to a gym, resources for physical therapy, and a collegiate women’s soccer program welcoming me with open arms despite my current state. My story isn’t over. 

It’s been ten months since this life-changing surgical operation, and all I can say is it did just that—change my life. A physical change was expected, but the mental journey I have since undergone is what I consider to be the most groundbreaking period of my life. 

Did I expect a much quicker recovery, and do I still have days in which unbearable frustration pushes me to regret ever getting surgery to begin with? Yes. However, this period of forced stillness initiated a shift in my priorities. I am more than my sport and if all I am is an “athlete”, then my surgery would’ve ended me. Injury is simply a setback not the determining factor in who I am or will be.