When the Game Stops: Choosing Myself Over Hockey
- Nov 2
- 4 min read
SHARE YOUR STORY SERIES: WORKING THROUGH INJURY AND MAKING HARD DECISIONS
MY NAME IS Makenna Chokelal & THIS IS MY STORY
DI Hockey Player | TAC Ambassador
To me, my freshman year of university as a D1 athlete felt like a series of unfortunate events. It began with moving away from home for the first time, jumping headfirst into university after finishing my senior year online, and taking a sabbatical year where I only took three courses in the spring of 2021. On top of that, I was trying to get back into hockey full-time after COVID seasons while constantly battling sickness and strange injuries. By January, I had lost my grandma, and by the end of the season, I was sidelined with what was first thought to be a hip flexor pull.
To say my freshman year was a struggle would be an understatement. Honestly, it was horrible, and I hated almost every second of it. But in hindsight, those struggles were preparing me for one of the hardest decisions of my life: stepping away from hockey.
By spring 2022, the hockey season had ended, and even though I was scared to admit it at the time, I felt relief. Practices slowed, offseason training began, and yet I couldn’t ignore the fact that I had grown to despise the sport I once loved so deeply. After nearly 16 years of playing, I wanted nothing more than a break. Unfortunately, my body didn’t give me that choice. I was in excruciating pain, and an MRI revealed a torn labrum, CAM hip impingements, and significant cartilage damage.
My first surgery was on June 22, 2022. Despite the heavy news of extensive damage, I woke up from anesthesia feeling optimistic and finally ready to start the road back to hockey — or so I thought. Just six weeks later, my right hip started breaking down too. With the same symptoms, I knew another surgery was inevitable.
I had to wait four long months before that second surgery in December. That fall was brutal. I felt even more isolated from my team, still battling depression from the year before, unable to practice, and barely able to sit through classes. Watching practices in the rink left me in too much pain, and although I lifted “with” the team, I was really just doing my own rehab alone. Even everyday life was limited. Two classes a day were all I could manage before pain left me sleepless at night despite the painkillers that only upset my stomach.
Heading into my second surgery, my mindset shifted. The first time I thought, “After this, I’ll get back to hockey.” This time I thought, “I need this for my quality of life… can I even get back to hockey?” I left the rink crying after our last game before surgery, not realizing at the time that those tears were really a reflection of how defeated I felt.
On December 19, 2022, I had my second hip surgery. Once again, there was extensive damage —worse than the left side. This time I woke up in tears, inconsolable.
But I wasn’t ready to quit. And to be clear, stepping away from hockey wasn’t giving up. It took courage to walk away. So, in spring 2023, I gave everything I had to my rehabilitation, determined to fight my way back.
On April 18, 2023, while home on a mental health week, I finally made the hardest phone call of my life. Through tears, I told my coach I needed to step away from hockey. At that moment, I wasn’t even sure if I could stay at Cornell. I was terrified — afraid of being judged by teammates, by other athletes, by anyone who had fought through injuries and managed to return. But my story was mine alone, and my decision was my own.
To my relief, my coach responded with compassion, support, and resources to help me through this new chapter. That was the reason I chose to stay at Cornell. For the first time, I realized I wasn’t alone. I had people behind me, and they respected me for my decision.
The truth is, my teammates never really knew the real me during those first two years. They only knew the version of me consumed by depression, anxiety, and pain. Now, three years removed from my playing career, I’ve had time to reflect, heal, and grow.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is this: being an athlete was never my sole identity. Yes, hockey shaped who I am, but it doesn’t define me. There are so many other parts of me — like being a student, a friend, a daughter, and a family member — that are just as important, if not more.
I’m sharing my story because if it helps even one athlete feel less alone, whether they’re sidelined, injured, or considering stepping away, then it’s worth it. I want them to know you will be okay.