The energy in the arena was electric. On each of the faces of my teammates I could see the determination and focus. We were about to play on the biggest stage of our lives, the Elite 8.

The music played over the loudspeaker getting us hyped as we warmed up. The intensity rising with each hit. I jumped up to hit the ball like any other time in warm up, when I landed something didn't feel right in my knee. In that moment I knew that my career was never going to be the same.

My college career at the University of Texas volleyball team was messy, challenging and full of curveballs. My 14-year-old self who committed to be an All-American had no idea what was coming when she stepped on campus.

Freshman year began, and I was initially going to be red-shirted, it was a huge blow, and began my journey with depression in college. I felt as if I was wasting my time and that ultimately I would never be good enough to play for this program.

I was embarrassed and ashamed to tell people because in my mind being red-shirted meant I wasn’t enough, I wasn’t capable. Fortunately, I got my number called and got to play in 3 games in the middle of the season.

It was a high I had never experienced before and a feeling I will never forget. Little did I know, these would be my last volleyball games. 

I tore my ACL before the Elite 8 game, and my surgery was scheduled over Christmas break. I felt myself go into a state of severe depression. Anxiety and depression are two words that are often not said in the athlete community. Those words mean you are weak and that you are not capable of handling the stress of being a college athlete. I was sad, angry and felt betrayed by God and my body.

When I got back on campus I felt empty, each day was a reminder of why I was sad, as I walked around campus in my massive knee brace and watched practice from the training room. I was drowning in my own sadness and I was unable to ask for help due to this stigma that I and many others feel when it comes to talking about mental health.

I was struggling in silence.

I cannot tell you why this is such a “hush hush” topic, but it is something no one talks about, and no one wants to be the first. Standing up and saying I am overwhelmed with sadness, anger and fear makes you “not normal.” But what if it is the norm and we just don’t know it because no one is saying anything?

The day I opened up and admitted I was tired of fighting this mental battle in my head is the day I was set free. This stigma that is so prevalent in athlete culture is real, but it shouldn’t control us who are suffering in silence.

Our voices need to be heard because our emotions are not wrong, they are not signs of weakness. These emotions make us human. We can struggle and feel sad sometimes because as athletes we are going through a lot. The mental battle of being a starter or being a bench warmer, the struggle of being injured or struggling with performance anxiety.

This is normal.

Once I got help, my feelings weren’t cured. I still struggle with anxiety and depression to this day. Although, getting help my sophomore year prepared me for what was coming my junior year. My knee did not fully recover after my ACL surgery, so I had my second surgery at the end of my junior season.

The rehab timeline for this surgery had to be rushed in order to get me back for my senior season. That spring was the biggest mental fight of my life.

I struggled with wanting to give it a shot one more year and maybe get back on the court or give my body the rest it deserved and retire. Naturally, I took the harder route and fought till the end. I fought until I was mentally exhausted, I looked into my trainer’s eyes and said, “I am tired of fighting, I need to be done.” This day was one of the hardest days of my life.

I am crying as I write this because reliving this moment is hard, I was at the lowest point in my life. I was striped of the one thing I was always good at, the sport that justified my height and made me feel confident about being so tall.

Most importantly, I wouldn’t get to have my senior season with my best friends. Although, this day saved my life. In this moment, I was so depressed and so anxious that I couldn’t function. I could look in the mirror and not recognize myself without this sport. I didn’t open about my struggles because no one understood the extent of my pain due to me hiding my struggle with depression and anxiety.

There are not many outlets I could’ve reached out to, no role models talking about mental health in the athlete community. I felt like I had to fight this alone. Although, I had been through this before, I have experienced this pain and I did get better because I got help.

Because I spoke up and said to hell with the stigma. So, I did it again. I got the help I needed, and I sit here 5 months later, and I am okay. My family had my back through it all, they never doubted my decision and stood by my side through the anxiety and depression. My friends came to me with open arms and made me feel safe to express to them my struggles. I also found a community of athletes who had similar experiences with mental illness and then, I reached out to the therapist provided on campus.

I have gained a new sense of identity in different passions and I speak up about my mental health to friends, family and social media outlets like this one because I know I was not, and I am not the only one who struggles in silence. My journey to being okay wasn’t easy, it required me being vulnerable and admitting that I needed help. I needed people checking up on me constantly, I needed that outlet where I could cry and scream and let it all out.

I needed to be reassured my feelings were normal and that it was okay to be sad, but it wouldn’t last forever. Knowing that I wasn’t fighting this mental health battle alone is what has gotten me to where I am today. 

Being a college athlete is an amazing accomplishment and experience I will forever be grateful for, but it does test your mental health. No matter how strong you are when you get to college you can still be affected by mental illness. This does not make you weak or not capable of being in the program you are in, it makes you human.

Today, I encourage you to get help. I encourage you to show yourself some grace, you are not flawed, and you are not broken and most importantly, you are not alone.

There is a community of athletes waiting to speak up about this topic, so let’s start the conversation and fight this battle together. 

Blair Westerlund

I am a 21 year old senior at The University of Texas. A former Texas Volleyball player, turned normal college student. Currently I’m using my platform to talk about mental health to student athletes, especially those who are injured. I struggled with anxiety and depression my whole career and want to help end the stigma surrounding mental health in student athletes.