I didn’t expect the panic. Sitting on the bench, sidelined by an injury, I felt a wave of uncertainty crash over me. My chest tightened as I watched my teammates sprint across the field, doing the drills I had done countless times before. I didn’t know what life would be like without lacrosse once I had played for so many years. The game wasn’t just a hobby—it had become my purpose, my structure, and my identity. Without it, I felt like I was unraveling.
An image showing the thoughts of a lacrosse player dealing with an injury on the sideline.
This panic isn’t unique to me. Injured athletes often experience heightened anxiety and depression, not just from being unable to play but because their sense of self feels threatened. A study in the Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology highlights how the sudden loss of routine and structure leaves many athletes struggling to cope. “Athlete transition from sport to non-sport endeavors has important implications for the lifespan health and well-being of collegiate athletes.” The mental toll is often greater than the physical one. For me, the challenge wasn’t just healing my knee—it was redefining an identity to myself off the field.
I decided to use the experience to grow, rather than to sulk. I also talked to other athletes who’d been similarly sidelined and used the experience for self-discovery. Their experiences and mine show that, while injuries can be a setback, they’re also an opportunity for growth. While it’s not fun to watch teammates continue on as usual, there are unexpected gifts to the experience of sitting it out.
Lacrosse has shaped my life since the fourth grade, when my older brother introduced me to the sport. I grew up loving competition. Basketball and football were my first passions, but when I picked up a lacrosse stick, something clicked. From that point on, my world revolved around practices, games, and training. By high school, lacrosse wasn’t just a hobby; it was the foundation of my goals and dreams. I pushed myself to earn recognition and eventually a spot on a college team. Now, as a third-year student-athlete, the stakes felt higher than ever. It was either you do it, or you don’t.
Second step in the recovery process was hearing other athlete experiences.
I reached out to athletes from other schools. A football player from the University of Virginia shared how tearing his ACL in high school completely upended his world. “When you’re playing, you always know what you’re working toward,” he said. “But when that’s gone, you lose your direction.” He described how he eventually channeled his energy into mentoring younger players, which not only gave him a new focus but also transformed his mindset. “When I came back, I played with my swagger again,” he told me. “But it came from a different place. I was more grounded.”
Another story came from a swimmer at East Carolina University. She tore her ACL and PCL playing volleyball, which took her out of the pool and away from the sport she had trained for her entire life. “It’s like hitting a brick wall,” she said. “Your whole routine is gone, and you have to figure out who you are without it.” Like me, she struggled with tying her self-worth to her athletic achievements. “I started asking myself, ‘If I’m not the best swimmer on the team, then who am I?’” she said.
These stories gave me hope. They reminded me that injury isn’t just about physical recovery—it’s about discovering new strengths and perspectives.
I started asking myself questions I’d avoided for years: Who am I if I’m not an athlete? What else do I love? It wasn’t easy to answer at first, but I decided to lean into the uncertainty instead of fearing it. I had to find new things to do, but give up the physical fitness because that is what athletes struggle with the most when they’re pulled away from sports. I also decided that I needed to dive into my academics in a way I hadn’t since arriving on campus.
And as I reconnected with those parts of myself, I began to realize something powerful: Lacrosse wasn’t my whole identity. It was a piece of a much bigger puzzle.
My injury also forced me to confront the pressure I’d put on myself. Growing up, I felt an unspoken responsibility to carry on my parents careers. Both my parents were All-American athletes, and I wanted to prove I could live up to that standard. My siblings didn’t stick with sports past middle school, so I felt like it was on me to carry the torch. That drive pushed me to excel but also made it harder to see myself as anything other than a lacrosse player.
One of the most impactful conversations I had was with a fellow lacrosse player from Mary Washington who had been through a similar challenge. He tore his ACL during his sophomore season, a devastating injury that kept him off the field for nearly a year. “I didn’t know how to cope,” he told me. “Lacrosse was my escape, my outlet. Without it, I felt stuck with all these emotions I didn’t know how to handle.” As his recovery progressed, he discovered strengths he hadn’t tapped into before. “I learned to see the game differently—more strategically,” he said. “When I returned, I wasn’t just playing harder; I was playing smarter. I saw openings I wouldn’t have noticed before, and my decision-making improved.”
Off the field, the injury became an opportunity for growth in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He visited the coach often to discuss his injury but more so to study the game, which helped him develop skills he carried back to the team. He took physical therapy very seriously, going three times a week sometimes four to get back to full strength.
By the time he returned to play, his mindset had shifted entirely. “I realized I’m more than just a lacrosse player,” he said. “The injury made me realize to not take it for granted, and that everything works out in the end. It made me a better teammate, a better leader, and honestly, a better person.”
His story stuck with me, not just because of the adversity he overcame but because of the way he transformed his setback into a springboard for growth. It reminded me that challenges, while painful, can also uncover strengths we didn’t know we had.
By the time I was cleared to play, I wasn’t just physically stronger—I was mentally tougher. I walked back onto the field with a new perspective. I still wanted to win, still wanted to push myself, but I wasn’t playing to prove anything anymore. I was playing because I loved the game.
When I return to lacrosse this spring, I’ll do so with a new perspective. I’ll still compete, still push myself to be the best I can be, but I’ll also recognize the importance of balance. I’ve realized that the qualities that make me a good athlete—determination, resilience, passion—are the same qualities that make me a good person.
Lacrosse has been a huge part of my life, but it’s not the only part. There’s more to me, and there’s more to life.
The question isn’t whether I’ll face setbacks again—it’s how I’ll use them to grow.
To finish out, I had the chance to sit down with two fellow injured athletes who have had major surgery in the last few months and here’s what they had to say: