It’s my second year of university and I’m 30 minutes away from starting my first university rugby game.

I’ve put in countless hours to get to this point, grinding through practices, studying game film, and pushing myself in the gym.

But all I can think about is how anxious I am.

I try to create excitement and energy but all I can hear are the thoughts of:

“Am I good enough?”

“Do I even deserve to be here?”

“Why am I like this?”

I tried convincing myself that once the game started, I would lock in and all of this would go away.

Except that made it all worse.

Within the first minute, I make a mistake and we lose possession. Then I injured my ankle, and just like that my day is done. Our team lost handedly.

Even though the other team won on the scoreboard, it felt like my performance anxiety was the real winner.

Grinding It Out

Despite the difficult start to the season, I tried my best to push through and come back stronger.

I was fighting for a starting spot, and I wanted it more than anything.

So, I decided to work harder. That meant showing up to practice early and staying late, asking the right questions, and being a vocal leader on the field.

After a week, the coach took notice. Just as we had finished up a late night practice, he pulled me aside and said the starting spot was mine.

I should’ve felt on top of the world – every athlete wants this. This is what we live for as competitors.

Instead, I instantly felt anxious and doubt clouded my mind.

My mind was focused on the pressure and expectations coming from my coach and teammates, rather than appreciating the hard work paying off.

It wasn’t easy, but I was trying hard to not let my anxiety ruin gamedays. I wanted to show up well for my team and live up to their expectations.

And slowly, I started noticing small wins in myself. Wanting to show up for my team. Feeling real disappointment after a loss, instead of just relief that it was finally over. Something in me was fighting its way back.

Then, in the second-last game of the season, I remember getting tackled as I was passing the ball off to my teammate. Next thing I know, my head is going straight into the ground. I was dazed and confused as to what had just happened, but I got up and kept playing.

As I rejoined my team on defence, I suddenly felt like I was dreaming. Nothing felt real. I knew something was seriously wrong and immediately took myself out of the game.

On the sideline, I realized I had a concussion. It was a crushing moment, all that work, for what felt like nothing. I had no idea how long recovery would take or what symptoms lay ahead, but I knew my recovery journey had begun.

Trying To Find The Joy Again

After taking 3 months off in the winter, I was cleared to return to rugby.

With the university season not starting until the fall, I was eager to hit the ground running for my summer season. I felt rejuvenated and ready to tackle the challenges ahead.

I was really focused on enjoying the sport and finding that lost passion and excitement.

A few games into the summer, playing some of my most enjoyable rugby, I was beginning to feel more like myself.

Then out of nowhere, it happens again.

As I tackle an opponent out of bounds, my head smashes into the ground.

I “instantly” get up, only for my teammate to tell me “you were knocked out.”

Then, I realized my vision wasn’t clear. Black dots filled my field of view, making it impossible to focus.

Another concussion.

The Decision

During my recovery, I was worried about how many concussions I had sustained and the lasting impact they might have had.

I began noticing lingering symptoms, including blurred vision at times and a spinning sensation whenever I lay down.

The concern for my health continued to grow. So, I spoke to my family and medical professionals and knew the decision had to be made.

I decided to retire from rugby.

I thought this decision would upset and disappoint most people.

Instead, the moment I said the words out loud, I felt instant relief.

For the first time in years, I didn’t have to walk into a locker room bracing myself, or stand in a warm-up faking excitement I didn’t feel. The performance anxiety that had followed me onto every field, every single game… it was just gone.

I was able to return to the rugby field as a coach. I remember watching my old teammates battle it out and seeing that joy on their faces – the same joy I used to feel.

For the first time since my retirement, a different feeling showed up.. A flicker of “what if” that got louder the more I watched my old teammates play.

What if I’d gotten to leave rugby on my own terms, grateful, whole, appreciative of everything it gave me, instead of being pushed out by anxiety and injury I never learned to face?

A New Dream Emerges

This regret fueled a passion for mental performance. I became obsessed with learning how I can support athletes in ways that I felt unsupported. We all carry our own version of struggle, but no athlete should have to face it alone. I know what it’s like to freeze up before the game even starts, but I also know the power of playing with confidence and clarity.

I wanted to make sure no other athlete had to sit where I once sat – thirty minutes before kickoff with their hands shaking and stomach in knots – questioning if they’re good enough to be here.

Now, at CEP Mindset, I am able to live out my passion and dream of helping athletes improve their mental performance. Knowing I’ve helped an athlete avoid the same road I once traveled is the most rewarding part of what I do. That’s what gives me purpose.