The first time I had an anxiety attack, I was eight years old. My chest tightened, my thoughts raced, and I didn’t have words for what was happening. But I did know one thing: when I stepped onto the football field, it disappeared. From the time I was a kid, all I wanted was football. I dreamed about the NFL the way other kids dreamed about superheroes. So, the field became my refuge. Between the lines, I was free. Off the field, though, the fear always came rushing back. As I grew older, I learned to mask it. Smiles, toughness, keeping everything bottled inside.
The dream of football carried me through high school and college until the moment I had always imagined finally came true: I was drafted in the first round of the NFL. Everything I thought I wanted, I had. The career. The contract. The recognition. And yet, inside, I was still fighting the same silent battle I’d carried since I was eight years old. Success on the outside didn’t mean stability on the inside.
By my fifth year in the league, I was with the Seattle Seahawks. To everyone else, it looked like my career was climbing. But the truth was, I couldn’t mask my pain anymore. I was at a breaking point, even contemplating suicide. The moment that saved me came when I walked into Coach Pete Carroll’s office, tears running down my face, and said, “Coach, I can’t do this.” He didn’t blink. He said, “We’re going to get you help.” For the first time, I felt I didn’t have to carry this alone.
Getting help didn’t end my career, it gave me a new one. Therapy taught me how to face my anxiety, how to name my struggles, and how to set boundaries without shame. And once I spoke out, something unexpected happened: teammates started coming to me, admitting they were going through the same thing. They told me they wished they had been the ones to say something first. That’s when I realized that this was bigger than football and that with the platform I had, sharing my experience could help more people than my teammates or other professional athletes. It could systematically change the way we are approaching sport from Day One, whether on the Little League field, in rec center basketball leagues, or in Pop Warner.
And it’s why I talk to coaches differently now. Too often, coaches believe that mental health professionals will pull their players off the field, that asking for help means losing time, momentum, or toughness. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Addressing mental health issues from an early age helps reduce suicide rates, creates healthier communities, and prevents more people from hiding their mental health struggles for decades the way my teammates and I did. You don’t need a diagnosis to benefit, and seeing a psychiatrist doesn’t mean you’ll walk away with a label. It’s no different than going in for a yearly physical with your primary care doctor.
I’d tell any coach, whether in the NFL, college, high school, or youth sports, that investing in your athletes’ mental health is another way to sustain performance on the field. But more importantly, the best way to lead young people is to see them as individuals. Whether they’re your MVP or still learning the game, every player matters. Don’t reduce kids to numbers on a jersey or cogs in a game plan. Build them up. Show them they’re valued beyond the scoreboard. That spirit will take them farther in life than the sport ever could.
This lesson has only deepened for me since becoming a father. My six-year-old daughter loves ballet, and before her recitals she sometimes gets stage fright. I always kneel down and tell her, “It’s okay to be scared.” I wish I’d had someone telling me that at her age. And that’s the message I want kids everywhere to hear: it’s okay to struggle, it’s okay to ask for help, and you are not alone. That’s why I’ve collaborated with the APA Foundation on the Where We Play initiative. Together, we’re equipping coaches with the resources to support their athletes’ mental health, build their confidence, and change the culture of sport from the ground up. Because if I could go back to that eight-year-old boy, I’d tell him that his pain didn’t have to stay hidden. Now, that’s the message I want every young athlete in this country to carry with them.
Visit apaf.org/play to learn more about the Foundation’s Where We Play work and learn more about my story and my partnership with APAF by listening to APA’s Medical Mind Podcast.
