My Post-Career Mental Sanity

Some days the pain hits me before I even get out of bed.

Not the plethora of random injuries I've accumulated, or my decrepit replaced knee, although that sucks as well…but the endless loop of mental bullshit I deal with on a daily basis. That quiet little voice that creeps into my brain and says, what are you doing now? You used to have structure. 

I know I’m not the only one who played and then had to figure out this regular life stuff. But if I’m being honest, there are days where it completely consumes me. That feeling that I should be further. That I should have already figured out the business side. That I should have more to show for the career I had.

I need to constantly remind myself, people need this information. You lived it, don’t tap out now.

Let me back up.

When you play for a living, you get trained to think everything is earned through pain and just constant repetition. You want minutes…Earn that shit. You want to stay…Produce. Your entire life runs on performance. You could score 20 on Saturday and still be nervous walking into practice on Monday. Because you have seen how fast a team can say we’re moving in another direction.

That does not leave your brain when retirement comes.

Now that I’m older, I have people depending on me. I have projects and calls and a full-time job. I have children to take care of and their goals and dreams to cultivate. And I still wake up every day like I have to make a roster spot…which looks great on Instagram, but most of it is based on fear.

There are so many times where I just want an easy day. I want to sit with my wife and enjoy what we built. I want to feel proud without thinking I have to bleed for it. Then that crazy voice pops in. Did you do enough today? Did you earn it? Are you getting soft?

That’s what basketball did. It convinced me comfort is the enemy.

The other part people don’t talk about is how you go from being the expert in one world to being the rookie in a new one. On the court I knew who I was. I knew why I was on the floor. I understood the rhythm of the game and the relationships. 

Off the court I had to learn emails, proposals, pricing, what to charge and finally, how to describe what I do. How to explain overseas basketball to someone who only watches the NBA…and not come off sounding like a dumb athlete. So I over-explained. I tried to sound smart to prove I belonged in the room. That gets exhausting.

You start to realize you can spend the whole day performing for people who don’t even know what you did for a living.

But here is the thing I come back to every time it gets too loud.

I lived this life.

I actually did the part everybody on the internet is pretending to do. I sat in hotel rooms in countries eating unfamiliar pre-game meals. I had coaches curse me out in a foreign language. I played in gyms where fans lit flares…and sometimes launched them at me. I had a team say we are releasing you and hand me an envelope of cash. I went home in the offseason and had to answer questions from people who never left town. 

I survived all that. Which means I can survive this shit too.

Too many of us act like the second career has to look smoother than the first. It doesn’t. Overseas was borderline messy. Rosters changed often and your passport kept collecting stamps. You figured it out. Regular life is the same. The difference now is there is no coach giving you the plan. You have to write the plan from scratch…so of course there are days you feel lost.

I think the real problem is we do not give ourselves credit for experience that does not come with that sort of gratification anymore. If I spend three hours helping an athlete so he does not get scammed overseas, that is value. If I build a community where athletes can ask real questions, that is value. Even if it is not millions yet and if people do not get how needed it is…that is still work.

The other thing I have to continuously remind myself of, is that growth does not erase the old version of you, it just stops it from running the show.

That old version of me is still scared, still competitive and still afraid to rest. Some days that version wins. I have a day where I feel behind and I work until midnight and it looks like I am disciplined but really I am just an anxious mess. Then the next day I reevaluate, slow down and plan. I remember that I am building something that did not exist before.

That is what keeps me going.

I tell myself this a lot. Why not you? You have the story, the scars and the discipline. You already did something 99 percent of people will never do, which is play professional basketball. That does not disappear…it is sitting inside you waiting to be used again in a different way.

So yes. Some days it completely consumes me. I look at the platform and the list of athletes I want to help and I think I am too late. That I didn’t post on social media enough, or didn't send enough emails or make the extra calls. Then I remember walking into a locker room overseas where nobody knew me and nobody cared about my resume…and I still earned that respect.

I can do that again.

If you are reading this and you are that ex-athlete sitting at home wondering why your mind is so loud right now…you are not crazy. You were trained to live on a constant high alert and to earn your rest. You were trained to measure yourself with numbers and make other people proud. 

What you can do is tell yourself the truth.

I am not behind, I am transitioning.

I am not weak, I am tired of performing.

I am not done, I am building something new.

And when those thoughts show up tomorrow…because they will…you can tell them the same thing.

I lived this life and I’m allowed to build another one.