The Beginning of My Transition: Embracing the Unknown

I’ve talked to countless athletes who have transitioned into life after sports, and while their journeys vary, the emotions they share are strikingly similar: doubt, identity crises, feeling lost, struggling to find purpose, and an uphill battle to break into a new chapter of life.

Yet, for some reason, these stories often go untold. Why is that? Is it shame? Embarrassment? Is it because talking about struggles doesn’t carry the same shine as recounting our achievements on the court or field?

Whatever the reason, I’ve realized that these stories—these messy, raw, complicated journeys—are the ones we need to hear. These are the stories that remind us we’re not alone. That’s why I’m sharing mine: openly and honestly. Because if you’re an athlete navigating this uncertain phase of life, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. You shouldn’t feel alone. This transition isn’t easy, and it’s not supposed to be.

The Identity Crisis No One Warned Me About

When I walked away from basketball, I thought I’d feel a sense of relief or freedom. And in some ways, I did. But that relief was quickly overshadowed by something I wasn’t prepared for: the void. My entire life had revolved around structure, competition, and identity as an athlete. Without that, I felt adrift—untethered in a world I wasn’t sure how to navigate.

Who was I if I wasn’t a basketball player? What was my worth outside of the sport I’d dedicated most of my life to? For years, I’d heard people say things like, “Companies love hiring athletes,” but the reality felt far different. The same skills and qualities that made me an asset on the court didn’t seem to matter as much when the jersey came off. It was humbling—and, frankly, infuriating—to realize that.

I started to question everything about myself. Was I enough? Did I even have value in this new world? And the hardest question of all: Was my best behind me?

The Weight of Being “Done”

There’s a strange shift that happens when you’re no longer competing. During your playing years, you’re surrounded by attention, admiration, and opportunity. People want to be around you, to work with you, to celebrate you. But the moment you retire, a lot of that disappears. You’re no longer the “athlete”—you’re just you. And while that should be enough, society often makes you feel like it’s not.

It’s a harsh reality that many athletes face but rarely talk about. Companies say they value the work ethic and determination of athletes, yet so many of us don’t even get a chance to interview. We’re seen as valuable when we’re actively competing, but when the game ends, it’s like the world forgets what we bring to the table. The skills, discipline, and drive don’t go away just because the competition stops. So why does it feel like the world moves on without us?

Learning to Embrace the Unknown

For the first time in my life, I was faced with the question: What do I do now? At first, I chose to do nothing—and honestly, it was exactly what I needed. I gave myself permission to sit with the discomfort of not having a plan. I traveled to watch my husband’s games. I slept in. I spent time doing things I’d never had time for as an athlete. It wasn’t about laziness; it was about healing. I needed that time to reconnect with myself—to rediscover who I was when basketball wasn’t consuming my every thought and action.

But while that time gave me space to breathe, it also revealed what I truly wanted: to help others navigate this messy, overwhelming, and transformative chapter of life. By the end of 2023, I decided I was ready to step into a new role. I enrolled in a health and wellness course, with the goal of becoming a board-certified health and wellness coach. I realized that everything I’d been through—the struggles, the doubts, the moments of clarity—were preparing me for this next step.

Why I’m Sharing My Story

The decision to share this story wasn’t easy. Like so many athletes, I’ve felt the pressure to present a polished version of myself to the world. But the truth is, the transition out of sports isn’t polished—it’s messy, and it’s real.

I want athletes to know that it’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to take your time. It’s okay to sit with the uncertainty and not have all the answers. Transitioning out of sports isn’t just about finding a new job or hobby; it’s about rediscovering your identity and building a life that feels authentic to who you are now. And that takes time.

I also want to shed light on the reality of this process. From the outside, it may seem like athletes have it all figured out, but behind the scenes, many of us are struggling with feelings of rejection, isolation, and confusion. That’s why I’m passionate about helping others navigate this phase of life—because I’ve been there, and I know how powerful it is to have someone who truly understands.

Lessons from My Journey

If you’re in this space of uncertainty, here’s what I’ve learned:

It’s Okay to Take a BreakYou don’t have to rush into the next chapter of your life. Give yourself the grace to rest and reflect. Transition is a process, not a race.
Your Skills Are Still ValuableDon’t let rejection make you question your worth. The discipline, resilience, and work ethic you developed as an athlete are still part of who you are—and they’ll serve you well in whatever you choose to pursue.
The Unknown is Where Growth HappensThe uncertainty you’re feeling isn’t a sign of failure; it’s an opportunity. Embrace it. The lessons you learn here will shape the next chapter of your life in ways you can’t yet imagine.

Takeaway

Transitioning out of sports is hard, but it’s also an opportunity to grow, rediscover yourself, and build a life that reflects who you are now. You don’t have to go through it alone, and you don’t have to be ashamed of the struggle.

Sharing these stories matters. Talking about the messy parts of the journey matters. Because when we share openly and honestly, we remind each other that we’re not alone—and that’s where the real transformation begins.