Keep Going

By Kyle Taylor | IG: @kayyteee91 & @hecooksco

Today, I'm a successful young professional. I'm creative. I'm a wonderful husband, brother, son, and friend. I’m a competitive person, and I can fall victim to perfectionism at times. I've struggled mightily with my mental health throughout my young life; before, during, and after my time as a college athlete. While I have too many regrets and painful memories to count, I wouldn't trade my journey for the world because it made me who I am today.  

I buckled under the pressure I put on myself. Instead of taking control of my situation and focusing on my participation within my sport, my team, the classroom, or wherever I found myself, I found an outlet for complete control elsewhere. That need for total control manifested itself into various forms of an eating disorder that I would go on to struggle with, on and off, for about 15 years. It began my freshman year of high school. 

I was a good youth soccer player, and my dream for the longest time was to play in college - and beyond. I certainly had DII or DIII potential, but my mental health struggles severely impacted my performance on the pitch. As is often the case with someone struggling with an eating disorder, exercise plays a critical role in the illness. I continued to push myself as hard as I could physically, and out of necessity I would eventually latch on to distance running. For someone struggling with an eating disorder, it's much easier to compete in a purely aerobic and singular sport like distance running than a team sport like soccer that requires anaerobic effort. It got to a point where I literally couldn't compete on the soccer field. One attempt at a sprint and my muscles were toast. With running (cross country) on the other hand - albeit incredibly difficult and well below my potential - I could compete. I was the fastest kid at my high school, and I earned praise for that. This still pains me because my participation in the sport was influenced by my illness. Rather unexpectedly, my cross country successes led to a scholarship offer from the University of Tampa that I would accept. Although that decision has since led to countless blessings in my life, it did not spare me from my battle with mental health issues, particularly eating disorders. In fact, those issues would get worse before they would get better. 

Now under even more pressure to perform coupled with having to acclimate to the college lifestyle, I crumbled. I couldn't figure out how to handle it, so I did what I was best at; punish myself via an eating disorder. My performances were atrocious. This led to a cycle of shame and pity that would only make my mental health issues worse. Eventually though - and I still don't entirely quite know how - I found the strength to pull myself out of it and notch some performances in both training and competition that I could be proud of. Some of my proudest moments actually came during routine workouts when the results didn't really matter. It would just so happen to be the end of my senior year by this point, when I would finally begin to scratch my potential. 

I'd continue to struggle with disordered eating, on and off, for several more years. I did a great job of hiding my struggles from those closest to me. I simply couldn't get past the burden of shame. Seeking help also seemed ridiculous to me, because even though it wasn't that long ago, I grew up in a society in which mental health wasn't talked about as openly as it is now, especially not eating disorders. I felt wrong and unworthy. As a man suffering from an eating disorder, those feelings were exacerbated. This particular mental health issue was reserved for women, or so it had been portrayed that way. 

Unfortunately, I had to hit rock bottom in order to change. The burden of shame, guilt, and profound suffering had impacted other areas of my life, and I finally broke. I sought professional help for the first time, changed several of my behaviors, opened up to those closest to me, and went on medications as necessary. I'll admit, there were several times in which I thought I was too far gone to make anything meaningful of my life. Much of what I had known was wrapped up in pain and suffering. It was very difficult to see and feel change particularly because of how long I'd let this go on and how deep I'd buried my feelings. 

But, and most importantly, it wasn't an impossible challenge. The last few years have been the best years of my life. My career and personal life have never been better. I've taken on hobbies that I've never had the desire, energy, or courage to pursue - namely improv comedy and cooking. The latter, especially, has offered me a lifeline. I intend to continue pursuing it in an effort to not only help myself but also help anyone who's suffered with anxiety related disorders like I have. 

It still hurts to talk about this. I still feel pain from the past from time to time. But, every time I open up with earnestness, the pain diminishes ever so slightly. 

So, my message for anyone struggling with any kind of mental health issue is this: 

It's never wrong to seek help. It's never wrong to say "I'm not okay". It's never not the right time, and it will never be too late to ask for help. It will, and it should, be hard, but it will be worth it in the end. I have faith in you. Keep going. 

As an aside, if you're someone in a position of authority (coach, athletic director, trainer, etc) who has the resources to facilitate help for someone who appears to be struggling, please respect that power to the utmost degree. Treat it like a super power, and you can save someone's life.