No Change Is No Change.
By Sophie Lafferty | IG: @sophielafferty_
This is my story on overcoming my spine injury, both physically and mentally.
When my doctor diagnosed me with Spondylolisthesis, my life was permanently altered. Spondylolisthesis is a debilitating spinal disorder that affects just 2% of the population. While surgery is an option, it offers no guarantees of success. This condition not only ended my sports career, but it also reshaped my understanding of physical limitations.
During my freshman year of high school, I began experiencing discomfort and tightness in my back muscles, which I assumed was just typical soreness. In the summer of 2022, I participated in a Division I showcase, where I played with a strong performance. The experience opened doors to meeting coaches and building lasting relationships with other players. Shortly after the event, I took a break from lifting and running, thinking that time away would allow my back muscles to relax.
However, on my 10.5-hour flight back from Greece, the pain worsened. Sitting for so long intensified the discomfort, and I began feeling sharp pain radiating down my legs and into my knees. After returning home, I saw a chiropractor, expecting a simple adjustment to relieve my pain. But as I lay on the table, my body refused to relax enough for the chiropractor to be able to adjust me. The chiropractor immediately called for a STAT X-Ray and MRI.
The car ride home was filled with a sense of dread. The results confirmed that what I had thought were sore muscles were actually broken vertebrae. I felt crushed, as if everything I had worked for was now pointless. My dreams of a DI recruitment, of traveling, competing, and showcasing my skills, seemed to fade before me.
After further tests, we learned that overworking my body and overcompensating with my muscles had caused them to become so tight that they couldn't properly support my spine. As a result, my vertebrae had shifted and fractured, leading to Spondylolisthesis, arthritis, and two herniated discs. Essentially, my vertebrae had separated from the rest of my spine, compressing nerves and causing debilitating pain in my legs, hips, and back.
At just 14 years old, my doctors determined that surgery was too invasive and instead recommended other treatments to manage the pain and help me recover.
While my teammates and friends were signing their commitment letters during our sophomore year, I was consumed by isolation, defeat, and uncertainty. In an instant, all of my dreams were shattered, as I realized my injuries would prevent me from playing lacrosse in college. Throughout my sophomore year, I battled with a deep state of depression and anxiety. I blamed myself for the state of my body, unable to forgive myself for failing to recognize the opportunity to move forward. Sports had always been my life, and I was accustomed to a packed schedule—school, practice, club training, and the gym. It was only when the damage was irreversible that I realized I had been destroying my body, pushing it to its limits until it could no longer keep up. I had to accept that I didn’t break my spine in a tragic accident; it was my own overtraining and exhaustion that led to this point. My routine shifted dramatically from a busy schedule to being stuck at home after school, unable to walk, stretch, or bend. I couldn’t sit down and watch TV, or even play video games—simple activities that once brought me joy only intensified my pain. Every suggestion to fill the void only caused more distress, and the bitter cold of the winter only worsened my back pain and my mental health.
After two years of enduring back braces, painkillers, anti-inflammatory medications, cortisone shots, massages, acupuncture, epidurals, MRIs, and endless waiting, both my physical and mental health deteriorated further. I watched myself lose muscle, appetite, and energy. I went from being energetic and driven to feeling sluggish and lethargic.
Two years later, I sought a second opinion from a different doctor. This time, I learned that my vertebrae were completely disconnected, and there was no risk of further injury. He cleared me to return to sports, warning me that the pain would persist and advising me to focus on flexibility, physical therapy, and stretching. I developed a stretching and yoga routine, committing to it every morning, night, and before and after every practice and game. I played through my junior spring lacrosse season, leaving my club team behind. I promised myself I would attend more showcases heading into my senior year and return to playing club lacrosse.
During my junior season, I played with significant pain, heating my back, taking hot epsom salt baths, and using cupping therapy. I went for massages, physical therapy, and did everything I possibly could to prevent my back muscles from tightening further. I would dedicate my time to rehabilitation, prioritizing my recovery. I skipped my lunch period and study hall to visit the trainer and do my stretches. I arranged accommodations to stretch in between class periods, making me 5 minutes late to each course just so I could sit in a chair without my legs going numb.
It became apparent to me that I was pushing my body to its limits, draining my energy and time, all in the hopes of playing lacrosse again. Eventually, I had to accept that I would not be able to play at the collegiate level. I realized that the routines, accommodations, and treatments that worked at the high school level would not be sustainable in college. Playing through my injuries would likely distract me from academics and risk even more severe consequences, including potential paralysis. Despite this, I continued playing lacrosse for fun, thinking I could at least finish my senior year of high school.
During this time, I turned my focus to other interests. With a fresh sense of drive, I expanded my first business—Lafferty Auto Wash (Est. 2023). Now that I had more time away from sports, I shifted my focus toward studying entrepreneurship and business again. My confidence flourished in this field, leading me to start a second business—a pressure washing company.
For a brief period, it felt like my back no longer defined me. I balanced lacrosse, my gym routine, and my two physically demanding businesses. I had finally found happiness again. I kept an intense routine of stretching and rehabilitation before doing anything else. Instead of letting my diagnosis hold me back, it became a powerful motivator. The challenge opened my eyes to new passions and opportunities outside of sports. I realized that even though I couldn’t play lacrosse in college, a college education could expand my horizons and provide me with the resources and knowledge to support my entrepreneurial aspirations. I felt diligent, driven, and successful, letting grit fuel my days.
However, in October of my senior year, my back flared up with an intensity I hadn't felt before. The pain was debilitating, leaving me unable to sit or walk. Concerned, I informed my parents and the school, but they told me I could only miss so much class without new accommodations. I left school that day thinking I’d be back the next day, but when I looked in the mirror that night, I was shocked. My body was visibly misfigured. I went downstairs and asked my mom if I looked lopsided, and she immediately decided we needed to get another MRI and consult with a doctor as soon as possible.
Starting in October, I transitioned to at-home instruction after I found out my back injury worsened, leading me to nerve damage in my back and legs, which left me with no other option other than to operate. I missed sports, school events, my car detailing business, and everything I once enjoyed. Once again, I was left with nothing. As I waited for the insurance company and surgeons to schedule my surgery, I was told that it would be in early January. By the time the holidays came around, I realized that the first semester of senior year was already over, and I spent it on bed rest. My friendships had strained, my relationship with teammates was distant, and my business inquiries had stopped. I feared losing not only lacrosse but also my business. I’d already lost everything once and had to rebuild, but this time I wasn’t sure if I could do it all over again—not just for a sport, but for my business too.
A month after my spine surgery on January 9th, 2025, I’ve made the mature decision to step away from sports for the rest of my high school career, despite being cleared for April 9th and having a season that does not end until mid June. I’ve accepted that my injury is severe, and I’d rather prioritize my long-term health over a few more months of lacrosse. It’s a decision I never thought I’d make, but I can’t afford to risk not being able to walk or sit again. I’m focused on other passions, especially my business ventures. I’m eager to recover in April 2025, and hope that surgery will bring me relief beyond just being able to walk and sit.
Since returning to school in February 2025, my focus has shifted to my academic career and my businesses. As spring approaches, I’m hopeful my body will be strong enough to wash cars everyday again, relishing the warmth of the sun on my back again. As the college lacrosse emails sit in my inbox, a big part of me is still torn. There’s a lingering grief over the end of my athletic career, mourning the person I once was and the version of myself I could have become. At times, a wave of sorrow washes over me, accompanied by a sense of defeat, knowing that the younger version of me would be disappointed that I didn’t play DI lacrosse. On the other hand, a stronger version of me feels an immense pride in my resilience and I am grateful for my ability to look forward to brighter days in a world where I once only saw darkness. Had I not gone through this injury, I would never have truly been able to grasp certain emotions, or make certain connections. I’ve learned that you have to go through things to get through them, and that without change—within your life or mind—you remain stagnant, stuck in the same place. Humans are not meant to stay stuck. Although this journey has been devastating at times, I am more than grateful to be able to walk and sit again, and I’m fortunate enough to have the chance to pursue new passions, even if they’re not what I once expected. And in the end, it’s the unexpected and unfortunate circumstances that make you realize your new life will cost you your old one.
