You Are More Than Your Sport

By Steph Balerna | IG: @stephbalerna

For as long as I can remember sports have been one of the greatest things in my life. Playing sports not only brought out the competitive, determined side of me, but it quickly became an outlet for me. Being on the field was a place where nothing else mattered but the game.

I was diagnosed with OCD, Anxiety, ADD, and ADHD at a very young age. Growing up with these differences made things challenging, but they are all truly the reasons I am wired the way I was with sports. The reason I never ended a drill on a bad touch, and what fired my urge to keep moving since I truly was unable to sit still. Despite these little things that made me different, nothing contributed more to my success than my love for the game, specifically soccer.

I joined my first “travel” team when I was eight years old, and I only wanted to go up from there. People always told me that my game was different. That you could tell that I loved what I was doing. Coaches knew I wanted to get better, and that failure was never an option in my mind. When I set my mind to something, I was going to accomplish it. 

My soccer career transitioned drastically when I started high school. I played for one of the best high school programs in the country, playing alongside top Division I players. Despite the intimidation and doubts I had, I was determined to make a difference in this program. I worked incredibly hard the summer before my freshman year. I knew people had expectations for me, and I was not going to let them down. I was the only freshman starter on a team of incredible players. We ended up winning both the county and state tournament, and I was proud to be part of it. From that season on, my identity on campus had been set. Steph, the soccer player. 

A lot changed after that freshman season. I ended up having to quit basketball in order to play in ECNL and  focus on my recruitment journey. I spent the winter months traveling to different tournaments searching for my future college. I wanted to play Division I and I wanted to make a difference in a program. Something so amazing about the league I played in was that I was exposed to the best college programs in the country nearly every weekend starting at a very young age. The pressure of this never phased me. I just played my game, and I knew the right program would find me. For most of my high school years, my only concern was playing college soccer. 

That being said, I didn't have the normal high school experience. I missed most social events, and never cared for the party scene. In the back of my head was always soccer, and I was not going to do anything to jeopardize my future.

My parents quickly realized that my focus was on nothing but the game. I was constantly leaving school early for training, and games. I was always thinking about what I could be doing to improve my game. Of course no one was fazed by this behavior from me. I was “Steph the soccer player.” I was not expected to be anything but a soccer player. No one expected a stellar report card, or to come home to me with a book in my face. No one cared what I did in the classroom, or what I did socially, all the truly mattered was how I performed on the field. 

Fall of my junior year I committed to play Division I soccer.  My dream had come true. Everything I had worked for up until this moment was now worth it.  I was given an athletic scholarship to play for a great Division I program. I made my parents proud.  My family flooded their social media with photos of me playing. I was at the highest point of my soccer career so far. I knew that I was not done yet. Every part of my game needed to improve before I took off to college. I was ready to work. 

As my senior season approached I felt the pressure. I spent the summer working for a soccer camp and training everyday. My whole life pretty much was soccer. I was named the captain of my team and I was not going to let them down. Going into the season after losing 9 out of the 11 starters from the previous championship team I knew I needed to work. I couldn't let my coaches down. They believed in me. I couldn't let my fellow seniors down, they wanted to win a final championship, and I needed to make that happen. My parents were counting on me. The school was counting on me. The papers quickly flooded with their predictions for the season. Who would make it all the way, and who would fall short and disappoint. One in particular never left my mind as they mentioned my name leading the team, and questioned if we could win one more. 

There was something different about that season for me. The practices were not enjoyable. The big wins did not bring me the same joy. The smile that filled my face was not genuine like it had once been. Through all this I ignored my emotions. I had a job to do. And then it happened. After riding the high of being county champions, we lost in the state finals. The second the last whistle blew tears filled my eyes. I failed my team. I was supposed to lead them to another championship, and I had been unsuccessful. This was my team, they counted on me, and I failed them. 

As high school season wrapped up, my eyes were on my next journey. College ball. I was going to be playing at the highest level I had played at yet. I needed to be in the best physical shape of my life. My game needed to continue to improve. The player awards and wins were no longer enough. The expectations were far higher. So, I did what I always had, I worked. 

I had a goal for myself to start as a freshman. Playing soccer for me was about being on the field. I wanted to be playing the game I loved. I knew this could only happen if I pushed myself to the limits. Which is exactly what I did. My life quickly revolved around training. And yes, for a long time my life revolved around soccer, but this was different. I would wake up before school to train, then again right after school, then I would end my night with team training. As days went by, I continued to make adjustments, none of which being positive. I wanted to be lean and quick, so I cut my diet. I was consuming well under 1,000 calories a day while burning nearly 3 times that. I left school early most days in order to make it to my training session. I started staying home rather than hanging out with friends because I simply did not have the energy to do anything but train. Overtime, my new lifestyle slowly started to break me. I could no longer do things I once did. I could not stand in the shower because I simply did not have the energy. My face had a noticeable color change due to the lack of nutrients in my body. I became very mean and short tempered with people. I was angry. No matter what I did, I personally was not satisfied with myself. 

Soccer was no longer something I enjoyed. It was something I needed to do. My body was desperate for rest, but I would not listen. During my games my mind would wonder how many miles I was totalling, or how many calories I had burned. I did not care about winning anymore. From my perspective, everything was fine, I was playing better than I ever had, I was dropping weight fast, and I was fitter than ever before. Little did I know the consequences of what I was doing to my body.

It was not long until people started to notice my low energy levels and express their concerns. My teachers would call my mom to explain that something didn’t seem right. I was present in class, but I was not mentally there at all. I would not retain anything. Right away, my mom contacted my therapist. Within 24 hours I was in session, and 24 hours after that I was in with a nutritionist. People wanted to help me, but I did not want it. I would not listen to the nutritionist or therapist because I did not want to change. When they asked me questions like, “well what if you did fail?” I would get a cold feeling through my blood. Just the thought of that broke me. There was too much on the line to just simply fail. I had worked my whole life for this. I dedicated everything to the game. My parents were riding on me. My coaches needed me to be ready. My friends believed in me. I could not let them down.

After weeks of trying, but not seeing any change my mom told me that if I didn't start doing what these specialists were saying, I would not be going to college next year, I would be placed in a recovery center. I never wanted that, it shattered me to hear, but I still couldn’t change. That’s when I was forced with the hardest decision of my life. To step away from the game. In March of my senior year, I de-commited. Weirdly enough, this brought me a sense of relief. For a second in my life I wasn't worried about soccer. 

This was not a simple weight lifted off my shoulders. My parents were broken. Not because they were mad at me, but because they knew the joy soccer once brought me. The me they had always known had done 180 on them.  My peers didn't understand. Which is partially on me. I never told people why I truly de-commited. I didn’t want them to know how bad it had gotten or have the idea that I couldn’t do it. Instead I just acted as if I didn’t want to play anymore, and I just wanted to have a "normal college experience." Which deep down, is the furthest from who I am. 

The truth is I wasn't sure who I was anymore. All I had ever been was a soccer player. That's all people cared about when it came to me. I had to face the scary thought of “If I don't have soccer then who am I?” 

I made the decision to take a gap year to truly figure out what I wanted from my college experience. For 2 months I hated soccer. I hated what it had done to me. I blamed it for taking my college experience from me. I never wanted to watch a game or touch a ball again. I wanted that part of my life to disappear.

The following fall would be the hardest months of my life. Watching what was once my team play their college season killed me inside. Seeing my younger sister play for my alma mater hurt me. I couldn’t watch. Not because I wasn't proud of her, but because it broke me to watch back what was once the happiest times of my life. Seeing my friends off in college while I was home trying to figure out my life was difficult. I quickly became the most depressed I had ever been before. I felt like a true failure. I wanted to disappear. At this point I knew my love for soccer was still there, watching the memories role through my mind each day, but the fear of reliving the burnout and depression haunted my thoughts. I knew if I wanted to play again, I would need to change the way I viewed the game.

In the last few months I learned that there are a million different parts that make up all of who I am. I am a soccer player and that will never not be a part of my identity, but I am also a sister, who would take a bullet for either one of my sisters. I am a friend who is loyal to her people no matter what. I am confident in who I am and what I stand for, and I will never let someone try and tear me down. I know my worth. I am a daughter of two incredible people who taught me how to love with all my heart. I am a cousin who will never stop working to be a role model for the next generation. Although these parts of me may not be broadcasted in the papers, or earning me scholarships, they are just as important when defining who I am.

After a lot of time, consideration and growth, I committed to play Division III soccer next year. I found a school that fits me in every way. A school where I can be more than just a soccer player. A place where they don't know me as the player destined to be Division I. A place where I can just be "Steph."

This year has been the most important year of my life thus far. I have learned that there is a difference between an athlete, and a person. One must learn to differentiate the two. No matter what, you are more than your sport. 

As coaches and teammates it’s important to realize that there is a difference between putting pressure on an athlete, and breaking the athlete. At some point it is important to realize that as much as coaches and parents want their athletes to improve, no one is perfect, and deep down we all just want to feel seen and appreciated for what we are doing.

As athletes, take a look around and be sure that you are surrounding yourself with people that help you up, rather than knock you down. Over the past year I have lost people. I was broken and I lost myself which resulted in some horrible experiences, leading me to lose relationships that meant a lot to me. As I worked with a therapist I slowly started to find myself again. As I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, I saw my people. The people that no matter how dark it got stood by me. The ones that celebrated the good times, and powered through the hard times alongside me. Without the support system I had, I would not be able to say I am a happier, healthier, and stronger person than I was a year ago. 

It is important to acknowledge that there is nothing more important than one's mental health. Mental health is like the quarterback of a person; when your mental health fails, so does everything else. As athletes our love for the game is stronger than we may know. Do not give up. Speak up about mental health. You are never alone.