The Recruiting Process Nearly Broke Me: A Mental Health Survival Guide

To the athlete who feels unseen right now

The recruiting process nearly broke me. I was fifteen and certain that playing Division I hockey would prove I was good enough. Maybe even special. I went to every camp, answered every email, chased every lead. I was invited to New York for the National Player Development Program, coached by Division I staff. I thought this was it. This was the moment everything would fall into place.

But the calls never came.

It felt heavy, like time slowed down. Each day turned into waiting. Waiting for my phone to ring. Waiting for someone to see me. Waiting to feel like I mattered.

In the locker room, my teammates were announcing commitments. They were signing letters of intent, getting interviewed by local papers, and seeing their pictures displayed at school. Parents would come up to me and ask if I’d heard from anyone yet. Some even reached out to coaches on my behalf, trying to help me get a call. They meant well, but it only made me feel smaller. I was the only senior on my high school team without a Division I commitment, and that silence was loud.

I had some conversations with Division III programs, but at the time that didn’t feel good enough. I was chasing an idea of success that had everything to do with status and nothing to do with fulfillment. What stood out most from that year wasn’t who called. It was who didn’t.

I started to believe what that silence seemed to confirm. That maybe I really wasn’t good enough. That maybe everyone else had been right all along.

The anxiety and worthlessness crept in quietly. I stopped feeling excited about games or practices. I went through the motions, detached from everything. I remember trying to make minor injuries sound worse than they were, just to feel noticed again. That’s how desperate I was to matter.

I didn’t talk about it with anyone because I didn’t know how. On the outside, I looked fine. But inside, I was unraveling.

At some point, though, something shifted. I realized that what I really wanted was to keep playing hockey. To stay connected to the game I loved. And that meant going where I was wanted.

Choosing to play Division III hockey was not the path I once dreamed of, but it turned out to be exactly where I was meant to be. I got to play right away, make an impact, and enjoy the sport again. That choice taught me one of the hardest and most important lessons of my life: sometimes not getting what you want is what clears the path for what you actually need.

If you’re an athlete in the middle of the recruiting process, feeling overlooked and questioning your worth, I want you to hear this: your value has nothing to do with who calls and who doesn’t. The silence says nothing about your potential. You are not less because someone else got chosen first.

Trust your heart. Go where you are wanted. Play because you love to play. The right fit is where you will grow, not where you have to prove that you belong.

If you’re a parent or coach walking alongside an athlete through this process, your support matters more than you realize. Acknowledge the disappointment. Say out loud how real it feels. Remind them they matter no matter what logo ends up on their jersey.

For me, the survival part wasn’t about pushing harder or pretending I was fine. It was about radical acceptance. It was about naming what I was feeling, aligning with my real values, and choosing to stop chasing external validation. I learned that peace comes when you stop running after someone else’s definition of success and start living in your own.

To the athlete who feels unseen right now: I see you. You are enough. The right people will see your worth without you having to prove it. Go where you can be yourself, where the love of the game still lives inside you, and where you can remember why you started in the first place.

Because that’s where you’ll find your edge again.