This season of my life has been unlike any before. Not because I’ve hit new milestones, but because I’ve finally hit pause.
I’ve recently been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and anxiety, with episodes of panic attacks. And while it’s a relief to finally have language for what I’ve been feeling, it’s also deeply confronting.
For years, I’ve kept moving — staying productive, showing up, leading, teaching, coaching. I’ve worn resilience like armor. I’ve told myself I could handle it, because that’s what I do — I handle things. I power through.
But over time, that way of living became too much. The cracks started to show in ways I couldn’t ignore anymore — not just mentally, but physically and emotionally. My body was exhausted. My mind was loud. And my heart? My heart was begging for rest.
Some days now are okay. The medication helps. I can function, even feel glimpses of my old energy. But then there are days when everything feels heavy, unmanageable, and uncertain. Days when even the smallest tasks feel like mountains. It’s not about motivation. It’s about capacity.
And that’s something I’ve had to really sit with.
I’ve come to realize that it’s not about whether I can do something — because I still can. I’m still capable. But right now, I’m not in the best state to be the best version of myself. Not for my students. Not for my players. Not for the people who look to me for strength and guidance.
So for the first time in a long time, I’ve chosen to let go — just for a while.
I’ve decided to take a step back from coaching and some of my leadership responsibilities — at least for the next two months. Not out of weakness, but out of wisdom. Because I finally understand that rest isn’t quitting. It’s part of the process.
It’s time to listen to myself.
To spend time with myself.
To prioritize myself — not just the version that performs, but the one who breathes, feels, and needs healing.
This isn’t a post wrapped up in triumph or a lesson neatly tied with a bow. It’s a work in progress — I am a work in progress. But for now, I’m giving myself permission to pause.
If you’re reading this and you’re in a space where you feel like you have to keep it together all the time — please know this: letting go, stepping back, choosing yourself — that, too, is strength. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the kind that keeps us going in the long run.
I’m still here. I’m still learning.
And this time, I’m learning how to carry me.
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