Share Your Story Series: Supporting yourself, supporting your coaches, & transitioning from student athlete to just student
My name is BRITTANY GOUWs & THIS IS MY STORY
Division I Field Hockey | Bryant University
Trigger warning: Themes of suicidal ideation
Recruited from South Africa by a different coaching staff, I started at Bryant University in 2018. However, I took a leave of absence in 2019, which ultimately gave me the opportunity to play in 2023—an incredible experience. Depression and anxiety had always been present in my life, so going through such a major life change was bound to affect my mental health. But five years later, I have no regrets about putting everything into being a student-athlete.
Before the events of November 2023, I would have said I left the school and the team better than I found them. But now, I’m not so sure.
The transition from a Division I student-athlete to a regular student is so drastic that it feels like mental whiplash. Especially for fall sports, athletes go from legally committing 20 hours a week (though we all know it’s much more) to zero. I’m sure it differs by school, but my transition was jarring. I went from being an impact player on and off the field for four years to feeling like a nobody.
For any athlete, this adjustment is difficult, but it’s especially tough for international students who come to the U.S. with the sole intention of playing the sport they love. Even on my darkest days, I always knew that after practice, I would feel lighter. Being around a team with a shared goal pulled me out of my own head, even if only for a short while. There is no replacement for being part of a college team.
It is incredibly lonely to battle mental struggles, worry about your own safety, and still try to achieve your goals when you’re not even sure you want to see the sun rise the next day.
It felt like my support system was ripped away in an instant when our team experienced deeply complex circumstances at the end of my final season. A season that should have been celebrated and remembered instead became a horrible mess of bruised egos, baseless accusations, and deep divisions. The situation was traumatic for me—threats, bullying, retaliation, accusations, and ostracization. Reports I filed were ignored, taken politely and then set aside. Such extreme treatment should have been addressed, but no action was taken.
I remember one night, feeling so resented and alone, I genuinely believed the world would be better off without me.
The NCAA needs to do better. Athletes have value from beginning to end. They can become great coaches, leaders, and mentors—they always have something to offer, even after they’ve exhausted their NCAA eligibility. At the end of the day, an athlete’s well-being remains the responsibility of their school, their conference, and the NCAA until the day they graduate. Athletes can only do so much to take care of themselves without a proper support system in place.
Some coaches are great at prioritizing athlete mental health, but they often don’t have the support of their administration behind them.
I was lucky to have two coaches who truly prioritized my well-being for the three years we were together. During the off-season, I took an entire month off (even though I wasn’t happy about it at the time) to rebuild my mental strength and heal. Back then, I was bitter—I felt like everyone was against me. But in hindsight, I now know it was essential to my survival.
Not only did I spend nine hours a week in an intense group setting working on my mental health, but I also focused solely on my physical fitness. Even though I distanced myself from my teammates during this time, I knew that taking care of myself now would make me a better teammate in the long run. To say I was lucky to have my coaches would be an understatement. These were people whose jobs depended on results and performance, yet they chose to help me heal from trauma, self-harm, eating issues, and more.
There are many coaches in the NCAA accused of mental abuse or of ignoring signs of distress. But that was not the case for my team—we were truly fortunate to have good-hearted coaches. However, I also believe the mental health of coaches themselves should be prioritized more.
Some coaches don’t sleep or eat because they’re constantly worried about their athletes’ well-being. They worry about players struggling alone, some contemplating whether they want to keep living. All the while, they still have to focus on results—on how their athletes’ mental state may impact the season, which ultimately affects their own careers.
It’s so much more complex than just winning and losing games. Coaches need support, too.
Teams need to be staffed appropriately to share the load. Some programs are fortunate enough to have that structure—for example, men’s basketball had five coaches and five managers for a roster of 18 players. Meanwhile, our field hockey program had a roster of 28 with just two staff members. There are far too many personalities, complications, and challenges on a team for two staff members to handle alone. There needs to be more—more support, more foresight, more care.
Unfortunately, the hard truth seems to be that once we, as athletes, play our final game, we lose our value.
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