Annika Jozin: Trying to Fix My Body Only Pulled Me Further From Myself

As athletes, we’re taught to push through pain, silence doubt, and to “tough it out.” But what happens when the injury isn’t just physical? What happens when the thing that brings you purpose, identity, and routine is suddenly taken away and you’re left feeling lost, isolated, and mentally exhausted?

Annika Jozin

There’s no doubt that athletes are strong and resilient. But the moment we speak up about our mental health or admit we’re struggling, it’s often seen as a sign of weakness—as if we’re not cut out for elite sport.

But athletes are human too. We face the same everyday challenges as anyone else: self-doubt, anxiety, body image issues, addiction. Yet we’re expected to show up with a good attitude no matter what we’re carrying inside.

There are so many silent battles athletes face. For me, it was injury and how I felt about my appearance that impacted my mental health the most. As I began to take track and field more seriously, I started devoting every part of my life to getting better.

I focused on my sleep, stayed consistent with training, and made sure I was always hydrated. But when it came to food, what started as “healthy choices” slowly turned into harmful habits. I became obsessed with control: counting calories, cutting out food groups, shrinking myself. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was falling into a deep struggle with anorexia.

As a female athlete, there's this unspoken idea of what we're supposed to look like in order to succeed: lean, toned, often smaller than what’s natural or healthy. I didn’t see myself in that image. And I convinced myself that in order to be successful, I had to become someone I wasn’t. My body became something I constantly tried to “fix,” and because so much of my identity was tied to performance, I truly believed that I didn't want to live in a body that wouldn't allow me to achieve my dreams. But changing my body didn’t make me a better athlete. It only pulled me further from myself.

Recovery was one of the hardest battles I’ve had to face. And just when I started to find peace with food and with my body, I was hit with something else: injury.

For most of my college career, I dealt with shin splints and stress fractures. The one thing that gave me structure, purpose, and joy was suddenly gone. I couldn’t train, couldn’t compete and I felt empty. I didn’t know who I was without my sport. Practice had been my outlet, my place to belong. Watching teammates travel to meets while I stayed behind was isolating and rehab was lonely at times. But it also became the space where I found new friendships, with athletic trainers, other injured athletes, people who reminded me I wasn’t alone. Eventually, I made it back and stepping on the track again gave me a whole new kind of appreciation for my body. 

I couldn’t have made it through without my support team: my family, friends, doctors, athletic trainers, and therapist. They reminded me that I’m more than my sport. They helped me rebuild my relationship with food, with movement, and with myself. Now, I’ve come to wholeheartedly believe that being an athlete is not about what you look like. It never was. Any body, regardless of shape or size, is capable of achieving great things with the right mindset, dedication, and hard work.

If you’re in the middle of a struggle, know that you’re not alone. There’s strength in speaking up. There’s healing in asking for help. And there’s so much more to your story than what happens on the field.

Annika Jozin

Whether you're navigating this yourself or supporting someone who is, know that hope is real and help is available. The following resources are here to support you:

National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA)

1-800-931-2237

www.nationaleatingdisorders.org

Eating Disorder Hope

Treatment Centers and Education

1-866-932-1264

www.eatingdisorderhope.com