Growing up as a boy in a traditional Italian-American household, mental health was never something we talked about. Emotions were seen as something to suppress rather than understand. If I was struggling, I was expected to keep going, work harder, and never let anyone see my pain. That was what it meant to be a man. For most of my life, I believed strength meant handling everything on my own. It wasn't until the past two years that I realized how damaging that mindset truly was.
At the time, soccer was my identity. I traveled to New Zealand to study abroad while pursuing a professional soccer trial, an opportunity I had dreamed about my entire life. During my first training session, I broke my foot. One month later, my long-term girlfriend ended our relationship. Within weeks, I had lost the future I had envisioned for myself. Instead of exploring a beautiful country and competing for a professional contract, I spent most of my time recovering from surgery alone in my room. Feeling isolated, heartbroken, and overwhelmed, I turned to alcohol as a way to cope. In New Zealand, binge drinking was deeply embedded in the social culture and, as a college student, alcohol felt like the easiest and least expensive way to numb what I was feeling. Before long, I was binge drinking every day. Although it provided temporary relief, it only delayed the pain I had refused to confront.
When I returned to the United States, I transferred schools hoping for a fresh start. Instead, life became even more overwhelming. I was recovering from my injury while trying to earn my place back on the soccer field, adjusting to a new university, dealing with roommates who refused to pay rent, and facing growing financial stress. Although I eventually gave up alcohol to return to college soccer, I realized that removing alcohol did not remove the pain. I had spent so much time pushing my emotions aside that they never truly disappeared. Eventually, my body reached its limit.
While out to dinner with my current girlfriend and her family, I unexpectedly collapsed twice. I was rushed to the hospital, where doctors spent several days running tests on my heart. Thankfully, they found no major cardiac condition, but the experience changed my life. Since then, I have struggled with intense anxiety surrounding eating in restaurants and even sitting at tables. Something as simple as eating with friends or attending a work meeting suddenly felt impossible because my mind constantly feared another medical emergency.
For the first time, I was forced to confront something I had spent my entire life avoiding: my mental health. I realized that mental health deserves the same attention as physical health. No one would expect me to play soccer on a broken foot, yet I had expected myself to push through anxiety, grief, and overwhelming stress without asking for help.
That realization changed my relationships. I became more open with the people I love instead of pretending everything was okay. My current girlfriend has shown me what it means to be supported without judgment, and through conversations with her mother, who works in the mental health field, I began to see mental health as a legitimate injury rather than a personal weakness. Their support challenged everything I had been taught growing up and gave me the courage to start changing my own beliefs.
Although I am still healing, I no longer try to do it alone. The anxiety that followed my hospitalization became so overwhelming that I had to step away from the job I loved as a behavior technician working with children with special needs. Having to stop working was heartbreaking because helping children learn, grow, and overcome challenges has always given my life purpose. That experience taught me that I could not continue supporting others while neglecting my own well-being.
For the first time in my life, I chose to ask for help. Therapy, mental health professionals, sports psychologists, and mental health coaches have become essential parts of my healing. They have taught me that recovery is not about pretending difficult emotions do not exist, but about understanding them, expressing them, and learning healthy ways to move forward. Talking openly with my girlfriend has become one of the healthiest outlets I have ever had, which I never imagined I would be comfortable doing. Growing up, I never saw men talk openly about anxiety, therapy, or emotional wellness. Breaking that cycle has become one of the most important accomplishments of my life.
These experiences have completely reshaped my goals and my understanding of the world. As I continue pursuing a career as a Board Certified Behavior Analyst, I want to be someone who recognizes that every behavior has a story. My own struggles have taught me that invisible battles are often the hardest to see, and that empathy can be just as powerful as any intervention. I hope to create environments where children and families feel safe asking for help and never feel ashamed for doing so.
Today, I believe strength is not measured by how much pain we can hide but by our willingness to be vulnerable, accept support, and keep moving forward. Although I am still on my healing journey, I am proud of the progress I have made. My experiences have transformed the way I view mental health, my relationships, and the professional I hope to become. More importantly, they have taught me that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, it is one of the bravest decisions a person can make. That lesson will stay with me for the rest of my life, and I hope to pass it on to every individual and family I have the privilege of serving.