Maddie Moran: The Vicious Cycle of Physical and Mental Health

Growing up, I played any sport I could get into: soccer, flag football, volleyball, basketball, track and field, etc. At every turn, my body limited me, whether it was my asthma for the sports that required running or my height for those where it was better to be at least a little taller than 5’1. When I started playing golf, I figured everyone is on the same level for the most part; you may drive the ball a mile but not be able to read a putt or throw darts from 120 but blade it over the green from the fringe. I enjoyed the sport, so I stuck with it through high school and college. Through these many years of golf and the years of volleyball preceding it, I developed a condition called Thoracic Outlet Syndrome (TOS), which is associated with overuse injuries in sports. Over time, the back, shoulder, and neck pain from this condition became unbearable and I started losing feeling in my hands and arms, leaving me unable to play.

            After being misdiagnosed for roughly eight years and going through physical therapy and other treatments that didn’t seem to help, my college’s team physician was able to make the diagnosis and send me somewhere that could really help me. I underwent two procedures which successfully removed the tingling and numbness in my hands during the summer between my junior and senior years of college. I was so ecstatic to be able to go back and play my senior season. As soon as I was cleared to play, I went in full throttle, but soon noticed that my body was not quite ready for that just yet. I kept myself from competing in tournament play as I couldn’t even make it through a 9-hole practice, let alone back-to-back days of 18. Soon, I wasn’t even feeling up to playing in practice or swinging in general.

This was truly one of the lowest times in my life. I had been used to watching my teammates play while I was sidelined due to injury before. There were such mixed emotions; I was proud of my teammates and loved to support them but I was supposed to be right out there alongside them.

The tingling and numbness were gone, so why did it still hurt my back so much to swing? I took the entire fall half of my season off, only doing what I felt comfortable with which was mostly short game work. During this time, I felt really useless and threw myself into anything else I had going on, namely the mental health organizations that I was a part of: The Hidden Opponent and Morgan’s Message. I planned events and got others involved. The more open I was with my own mental health and feelings on my physical limitations, the better I felt about myself and the hand I was dealt.

            From there, I started going to the athletic training room on a more consistent basis and putting my full trust in them to help me get back on the course. It was really hard to do that after the years of misdiagnosis and how hopeless I felt at the time, but the stories of fellow collegiate athletes in similar situations from the mental health orgs I was a part of gave me a little bit of that hope back.

There were many monotonous weeks of feeling like I was doing the same exercises and getting nowhere, but I realized that I was actually getting stronger.

I was moving more weight and doing more reps than I dreamed of doing in the beginning. Building muscle can be a very slow and frustrating process, but consistency and routine kept me going and led me to be able to return for my spring golf season.

            Though the pain hadn’t subsided into the spring season, the support of my training staff, teammates, friends, and family was enough to keep me going. I pushed myself just enough; I played smarter rather than swing harder. I took some extra strokes to keep my back in better shape and focused on accuracy rather than distance. Overall, I accepted that I’m doing the best I can and that if I overexert myself in the beginning, I won’t be able to finish or at least finish strong. In keeping a steady pace and laying up, I was able to set a new collegiate best.

I attribute this success to the time I put into building my mental toughness. Being incapable physically to do the things you want to do is so frustrating and can tank your mental health. This is relationship is a two-way street.

Being mentally unprepared can be physically debilitating, leaving you unable to get out of bed or will yourself to go eat. In experiencing all of this firsthand, I honestly can’t say which came first or which one was worse to battle as they intertwined into a perfect nightmare. The best way out of this vicious cycle for me was leaning on the people around me for support and not being afraid to ask for help. I also took up yoga and crafts, which put my mind at peace and took away any power from the anxious thoughts that bubbled up in my brain. It’s easy to get down on yourself and enter a mental state of hopelessness; the hard part is reminding yourself that you are okay and to just do the best that you can with your current situation. You can’t control the wind, but you can adjust your sails.