The world watches athletes retire, but rarely does anyone talk about what comes next. As athletes, we spend years with a clear goal, a structured routine, and a relentless drive toward success. But what happens when the one thing that has shaped your entire life suddenly disappears?
For me, tennis made me who I am—but who am I without tennis? The identity crisis that follows retirement is something many athletes struggle with. There’s a common misconception that athletes have a hard time adjusting because all they know is their sport, as if they’re clueless about life beyond it. While that may be true for some, it’s not the full story.
I always had interests outside of tennis. I had dreams beyond the sport, hobbies I enjoyed, and a personality that wasn’t just defined by being an athlete. And yet, even with all of that, I still found myself struggling once I stepped away from the game. I struggled to find a new purpose in life and honestly, I’m still trying to figure it out. What made it even harder was how quickly people started asking, “So what’s next?” just days or weeks after I stepped away. Like, damn, I just lost the love of my life! Can I have a minute to process?
When I retired, my mornings started to look different. No more early wake-ups, no more pushing my body to its limits at 8 a.m. At first, it felt nice, almost like a break I never allowed myself before. But then, reality hit. I found myself in a massive slump. I was struggling to get out of bed, feeling completely lost, unmotivated, and watching my body start to shut down. I felt weak, not just physically but mentally, like I was drifting with no real direction.
Even my eating habits changed,I stopped eating for the first two weeks because I wasn’t hungry. I had a maximum of a salad a day. I remember feeling horrible about myself, but still didn’t have the mindset to change anything. My body had no idea how to exist outside of the intensity of tennis.
Coincidentally the same month I retired, I saw a couple of friends post about their own retirements, whether from injuries or financial reasons. I felt somewhat better, less guilty about stepping away. I saw others who were also taking a step back, and I realized I’m not alone.
I’ll never forget the exact moment I found out I couldn’t keep playing. I dropped to the floor, tears instantly filling my eyes as I asked myself, “Is this it? Is this really the end of my story as an athlete?” I wanted to believe it was some kind of cosmic plan, a part of a bigger story that I just didn’t understand yet. Maybe the universe had a different path for me, and this was all part of it.
As those thoughts swirled in my mind, anger rose within me. How could this be it? I wasn’t ready, I still had so much left to give. After working so hard recovering from my countless injuries I felt betrayed in some way. My heart screamed “I’m just getting started!” Giving up everything I worked for, the sacrifices, and the pain… It felt like the universe was ripping away my identity. But amid the anger, clarity emerged. I realized this grief was part of the process, it’s a turning point where I had to let go of the athlete I was and start embracing who I was becoming.
It took time to accept that it’s okay not to have it all figured out immediately. Transitioning is not a race. It’s a process. And it’s okay to feel lost and unsure of what’s next. One of the things that’s helped me is understanding that my journey is different, and that’s perfectly fine. The pressure to figure it out right away is real, but I’ve learned to give myself the grace to breathe, reflect, and take my time.
I’m learning that I don’t have to be “perfect” or have everything figured out right away. This time is for experimenting, trying new things, and trusting that I will find my path eventually.
Being an athlete teaches you more than just sport. It teaches you life. The discipline, focus, resilience, and dedication I learned through tennis are qualities that will guide me in whatever comes next. I’ve come to realize that I’m not behind in life, even if I’m not in school or building a traditional career. I’m still on my path, and my worth is not defined by others’ expectations.
During this time, I also realized how important it is to have friends who accept you no matter what. It was these friendships that reminded me that I am more than my sport. They supported me when I felt lost, and their acceptance gave me the space to just be, without any pressure to figure it all out.
Though I may no longer be playing, the athlete inside me will never go away. The commitment, hard work, and mindset will always be part of me. I have no regrets because I know I gave my all. Now, it’s time to take those lessons and apply them in new ways.
The journey isn’t over. Though I may not know exactly what comes next, I’m learning to trust the process and embrace the uncertainty. I’m still figuring it out, but I’m moving forward.