To the Coach Who Taught Me the Most,

You probably are feeling so proud of yourself right now as you open this letter.

You think you molded a young, teenage girl into an adult who is tough, strong, and successful in all aspects of life. You probably think you fueled her passion of one sport she loved since she was three years old, so much so, that she went on and played on a division I college team with a scholarship that covered 70 percent of her attendance. You probably think that you supported her throughout the recruitment process and helped her choose a school that she was completely in love with that would not only fulfill her athletic goals, but also her academic ones. You probably think you were the most selfless coach, doing it all for the athlete who never dreamed of walking away from the game she loved so much and none for your own prestige or advertisement. After all, this is a letter to the coach who taught me the most. Well, you did teach me the most.

You taught me the most about myself, my character, my self-worth, my future, and my feeling towards not only the beautiful game — but the coaches who are slowly destroying it.

I started playing soccer when I was four years old on a local co-ed recreational team. As I grew up, I realized I had a talent for a sport that I loved. I continued playing throughout the years, realizing I wanted to be the best player I could be and maybe, one day, play with all those cool college kids. I remember setting this goal for myself with a fire inside me that was so bright it burned any possible idea of failure.

A fantastic opportunity came along when I was twelve years old to play on a club that participated in the best league in the nation with uncomparable college recruiting events.

The first two years were a learning curve that taught me the mindset necessary to not only survive in a competitive sports environment, but also in any aspect of life itself. The coach that taught me this lesson was everything that you were not, supportive, selfless, and a lifelong mentor. It was a healthy lesson that still drives me through many life events today. I never lost that fire inside me as the intensity picked up two years later. College recruiting events started and I was ready to make myself, my parents, and my new set of coaches proud.

This is where you come in.

I didn't know it yet, but the next four years of my life would take a significant toll on my mental health, my friendships, my family, and my future.

I quickly found myself drowning in a sport that I once played because I loved it and was passionate about it.

I found myself missing vacations, birthday parties, and even school at fourteen years old. This is where you taught me my first lesson. Sacrifice. That word rings in my head today and sends chills down my arms. You taught me that if I wanted to get better and even have a relative shot at playing soccer in college I would have to miss anything that overlapped soccer. I would have to eat, breath, sleep soccer at fourteen years old.

At 14 years old, I was to quit all other sports or else this whole elite club play "wasn't going to work out."

I quit basketball and started specializing in soccer as a young teenager, a decision that I still can't wrap my head around. You taught me that nothing was more important than soccer and I believed you. I believed that I had no choice but to not study for a test because I had to go play soccer. I had no choice but to miss that same test because I was traveling across the country as a young teenager for a weekend of games. I had no choice, but to miss family camping trips because I had to be in New York for one single game on Saturday morning. I had no choice but to say no to friends who wanted to have a sleepover or go hang out after school, normal activities for high school age girls, because I had practice until 10pm three times a week.

You taught me sacrifice.

You taught me to how to have tough skin. You taught me that it was okay for a teacher, employer, parent, or significant other to scream at me when I made a mistake, had a conflict or didn't do something they wanted me to do. You taught me never to be honest about my mental health or personal situations because if they did not fit YOUR agenda, they were invalid, "dramatic," and not real. I learned to suppress my feelings and just show up and play. Oh wait, play well because playing well was the only option or else the screaming would come in. You didn't want to hear about my life because as far as you were concerned, soccer was the most important thing and what could get in the way of that? Nothing could possibly happen in life that could impact my game in a negative way or make me need a break for once. I remember trying to play in a scrimmage while holding back tears because exhaustion and burnout finally got the best of me and I just simply couldn't hide it any longer. When you pulled me out and nonchalantly asked what was wrong, I told you and you simply replied, "That's not possible." Five minutes later, you subbed me back in; the conversation never to be brought up again.

You taught me that "no" does not mean "no."

Or maybe, no only means no when I'm sacrificing something for soccer. No doesn't mean no when I say I can't come to a practice because I am so burnt out I cry every time I even look at a soccer ball. No doesn't mean no when I say I can't come to a game because my family wants to go on a trip with me before I leave for college after I gave my entire high school life to the "beautiful" game. However, you applauded and praised the word no when it regarded cancelling on family, friends, or even myself. When no was used in that aspect it showed toughness, commitment, and dedication to the team. When no meant "no soccer," I was degraded, humiliated and thrown a wave of guilt until I changed my plans in order to make you happy. I remember being screamed at through a cell phone because I could not make it to a single game. I was degraded and told I was not committed to the team, even after six years of never missing a single event. Talk about feeling worthless. You kept yelling until my shock turned to a full blown ugly cry and even then you showed no remorse.

That guilt was what you wanted and if you kept throwing insults and threats just a little bit longer maybe I would change my mind. I did every other time.

You taught me that mental health did not exist.

A concept that took me years to reverse and learn was so incredibly wrong. Breaks were not needed after seven days a week of soccer plus school for nine months out of the year. Breaks were for undedicated, selfish, weak players. Burnt out? Overwhelmed? Struggling with personal life? You taught me to just keep going and pretend it wasn't there because sooner or later it would go away. Just a word of insight, it doesn't. It stays and bottles up until you literally feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, making you want to break down and go back to bed every morning, but oh wait … you have to be perfect in all aspects of life anyway with no complaints.

You taught me not to shoot too high.

When things weren't going my way, you told me to lower my standards and my goals. You told me that's what being realistic means. I remember sitting on a bus on the way back from a game and you pulled me up to talk to you. You told me maybe division I soccer wasn't for me. Time was running out and I wasn't reaching my goal so why not lower the standards? Somehow it was always my fault. You never wanted to work a little harder in order to help me reach my goal.

You taught me how to be childish and not confrontational.

Countless practices I was ignored and invisible because I missed one game (out of hundreds) or a practice (out of thousands). The tension could be cut with a knife because I did not follow what you wanted at that particular moment because I was doing something for myself for the first time in my life. Instead of coming and talking to me, you wasted my time at a practice because you created an environment IMPOSSIBLE to improve in. You made me feel uncomfortable and anxious. You wanted me to know that you were mad and you wanted me to feel that guilt, so next time I wouldn't go against your principles.

You taught me what it feels like to be taken advantage of.

I came to every single practice and game because when I did that you were proud of me. I felt so worthy and like one of the favorites. Weeks turned into years and I never let you down. I stayed with you through hardships and drama. When the day finally came that I asked to take a break you sounded astonished and mortified. How dare I ask that? I automatically turned into an uncommitted, selfish player. You expected me to be there because I was for the past five years. You taught me what it was like to forget my worth.

So, congratulations. You taught me a lot.

I can honestly say I am in a better place because of it. I am happier, stronger, and healthier because I chose to stop letting soccer control my life. I stopped letting you tell me I wasn't good enough. I stopped letting you dictate my worth. I started realizing that I was important too. I started realizing that there was so much more to life than soccer. I started exploring, adventuring, volunteering, exercising in different ways, and finding passion for other things, a concept that was never allowed just a few short years ago. With the help of family and friends, the people I lost in that whole process, I was able to fix what you broke. I want you to know that I will never regret that part of my life, because it did teach me so many things about life itself and introduced me to so many amazing people; however, I do wish that no one will have to go through the mental and emotional abuse I and several others did. I do wish you would learn what it means to be a coach. And finally, I really wish you learn how to treat your players like people.

I know exactly what you'll say when you finish reading this.

"It's so dramatic. None of this ever happened." And to that I say, thank you for proving my point. I have one last thing to ask of you. For the first time, it's not a break or forgiveness. It's understanding. I ask that you take a step back and evaluate yourself and what you do to the players around you. I can strongly suggest it's something far different than what you think.

Thank you for teaching me the biggest lessons in life.

I fight to continuously fix my idea of sacrifice, worth, commitment, and mental health every single day and I can't wait to help others find air again after drowning from the actions of coaches like you. I still love soccer, I always will, but for the sake of the future youth attendance in the beautiful game, I pray that you change.