THE STRUGGLE IN A LIFE OF HOCKEY:
        IN TIMES OF DARKNESS THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT

Many people ask me why I play hockey. Is it for the women, money or the fame? Simply, I play for the love of the game. However, the “game” follows me both on the ice and off. To some in the sport, hockey is a pastime, they believe in the aggressiveness, the fights, and sacrifice that makes crowds roar. But for me, hockey encompasses so much more; it is why I live. Hockey is my saving grace. It is the sole reason for my productivity, especially when facing seemingly insurmountable challenges. Hockey has given me the opportunity to be at peace in a mind filled with chaos. Regardless of my battered body that has seen more broken bones, surgeries and reoccurring injuries, nothing matches up to the constant battle between me, myself, and I. For those who knew me as a child, and those who have seen the struggles I’ve endured, I knew I needed to prove people wrong. Fighting mental illness is a relentless battle, but I was determined to attack the darkness to finally defeat and control it until light finally came. After countless medications, psychologists, trials and tribulations, my goal was to play professional hockey and prove to everyone that I would succeed no matter what.

I’ve grappled with mental illness from a young age. Born with predisposition to depression and anxiety the struggle was inevitable. I spent many nights being so anxious that I could not sleep and felt that I could not breathe or swallow. It felt as if I were trying to breathe through a straw and my throat was filled with a baseball. I remember waking my mother up in the middle of the night saying, “Mom, I can’t swallow and I am going to choke.” Soon OCD tendencies began to creep into my daily routine. I would tap light switches and doorknobs a certain number of times. If I was reading a book and saw a word that didn’t seem right, I would have to read it an even amount of times so it would “cancel out” in my head. Counting to an even number continued to expand when I performed daily activities, specifically, washing my hands, turning off the sink, or putting on my hockey gear. I would do each of those activities 2 or 4 times. At the time I didn’t realize I would have to fight these constant urges for the rest of my life. All day I would worry about what was going to happen next. Why did I feel the compulsion to engage in these habits? Why did I have to panic over simple tasks? Why was my mind driving itself crazy? This was only the beginning and it only got more consuming as I grew older.

After numerous doctor appointments, I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, combined type ADHD, and a form of Tourette’s syndrome, specifically, called multiple chronic motor tics. Uncertainty of what lay before me first triggered the anxiety. As far back as I can remember I was always worrying. Worrying about when my parents were going to come home, or having crazy ideas like someone was going to rob or attack the house. I would have crazy ideas in my head about killing, or any scenarios that dealt with unspeakable atrocities. I was put on a medication Zoloft at a very young age to cope with these feelings, which turned me into a complete zombie. I was in a constant trance when I took Zoloft, I felt like a zombie and life looked dull. During middle school, I was taken off the medication because of the zombie like trance that deprived me of truly experiencing life.  I worried about going to school everyday because I was concerned about what kids would say to me or what they would do to me. The anxiety towards my peers heightened from two instances. One instance was when of my classmates stabbed me in the back of my neck with a pencil and the other was being held at knifepoint at the neck. I never wanted to be the bad guy and held in all the anxiety and anger until I would finally breakdown and explode. I had a hard time when people were innocently joking around with me because I took it personally and would analyze it over and over. I was tormenting myself. Why do kids like coming to school to see their friends? I worried every second about what would happen that day at school, playing scenarios in my head over and over, that usually didn’t happen. Hockey was the only outlet I had to survive each day. My middle school guidance counselor single handedly ignited a fire within me. He asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I told him “I want to be a professional hockey player.” He replied with “You know Nick, that probably is not going to happen. Very few even come close to professional hockey.” From that day on, I would do everything in my power to prove him wrong, and what I did not realize at the time was the drive that engulfed me would be the single most important asset I had to survive.

This anxiety pulsed through my veins throughout middle school and unfortunately, extended into the hockey world as well. I did not want to be around anyone. I tried to isolate myself completely so I did not have to speak or listen to anyone. I hated when people would joke around with me because I would worry about what they were going to say to me. I contemplated why I was on this Earth, and if I should be alive. When that phrase “you’re soft” or “you’re a bitch” was said to me by someone I thought was my friend, that was all it took for me to end that friendship. I would have feelings of wanting to actually harm him permanently so I never had to hear him speak again. I would run it through my head over and over again until I would eventually snap. Chirping is inevitable in this sport but I would never take part because if I said anything I would worry about what that person would say or do to me for revenge. Along with this anxiety came a constant twitching and unrest of my body. Everyday I would constantly go from feeling calm to sitting still to feeling like my body was going to explode and needed to make sudden movements or twitch to find comfort. Eventually, I found out that those jolts I suffered from were due to a form of Tourettes syndrome called Multiple Chronic Motor Ticks. These afflictions also found their way onto the ice. I’d roll my eyes into the back of my head constantly. I’d twist my neck, or my leg would randomly move. I’d raise one eyebrow, open my mouth and lower my jaw. I would do anything to help suppress these forceful feelings. I could not focus on what was happening in the game as migraines started clouding my mind. I hated the ticks and myself and struggled to cope with the symptoms. However, amongst all this I had a goal deep in my heart and I knew that I had to stay on track to be a professional hockey player.

Anxiety continued to rule my life as I entered high school. Everyday I would wake up at 6 in the morning worrying about how I was going to interact with my classmates and if I was going to be able to go through the whole day without anyone joking with me. I hated school, not for the normal issues of waking up or schoolwork but because of the social scene. On top of that, the relief of hockey I once felt began to dwindle as it started to become a part of the problem. I was so uneasy during school I would vomit just thinking about what was going to happen during practice that day. I would try and compensate by not eating a lot. I thought I would not have anything in my stomach to throw up if I did that. Inevitably, I lost a lot of weight, nutritionally was not sound, and was mentally unstable. At this point I knew I had to get more help.  The sport, which I knew I loved so much, and my outlet, was now part of the big issue. I went to many psychologists, took part in hypnotherapy, and had conversations about shock therapy, but none seemed to stick. I finally found Dr. Moss. After the first session he said to me, “you are fucked up kid.” I knew right then that this was going to be the guy to help me out. He was the one that was going to help me get through all these issues. These issues were haunting the thing I loved to do most and it was time to fix them. Working with Dr. Moss, I discovered I had several forms of anxiety. I had a general social anxiety, severe anticipatory anxiety, and a form of panic anxiety, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and extreme sensitivity. I was prescribed Paxil and Xanax. These helped to a certain extent but I still had those feelings of anxiousness, social anxiety, and vomiting. I isolated myself at times just to relax and get myself together. The loneliness hit hard and I started to rely to heavily on Xanax just to sleep at night. I decided that I needed to get off the narcotic to avoid falling further into a downward spiral.
One day my father suggested that I start training as a cage fighter. I stopped worrying and getting sick when I trained. My thoughts were not consumed by what others thought of me or what was going to happen at the gym. I only focused on the fight that was in front of me. My self-esteem heightened, my motor ticks eased, and post training exhaustion allowed my mind to be at peace. It taught me self-respect, self-discipline, and meditation. I became obsessed with training instead of obsessing over everything in life. It was my new outlet and with new medication, I started to enjoy hockey again. This new sense of the maniac fighter got me through each day.

         Unfortunately, depression hit hard when I arrived at college. In my freshman year, I had little or no pleasure in doing things. I would not want to see anyone, I would not want to go out, and I would just sleep constantly. I was getting anxious around my teammates again and my hockey performance was struggling. I went to the psychologist and he decided to see if switching medications would help alleviate these feelings. Unfortunately, this was not the right thing to do at the time. The switch of medications disrupted my mood, and made me even more anxious. My short fuse went haywire, and I was now getting too aggressive in all aspects of my life. The peak of this aggressiveness involving a fight and a balcony incident. I was floundering again.

        In one day at practice, a young boy named Chris Bartorelli who was diagnosed with cancer, walked into the rink as our adopted teammate. I would see him everyday at the rink smiling, congratulating us, and just generally being a positive impact on the team. Chris had to relearn how to walk twice, and had multiple surgeries to remove the tumor. Even battling cancer he remained upbeat because he got to see us play and hangout with us every week. When I heard what he had gone through, it changed my perspective and I needed to live my life to the fullest. Even to this day he comes with me wherever I am and keeps my focus always looking forward. With new medication and the support of family and friends, I started to look at life with a positive outlook. I had a newfound confidence and eventually was named as a two-year captain for my college hockey team. Every time I was down and people had given up on me in terms of my hockey career or life in general, I kept fighting and told myself that I am going to make it. Whether, they know it or not I am going to prove to them that I can play professional hockey.

        With that I started training after college. I worked hard training on ice, off the ice, and in the cage. The anxiety and depression lessened even though my attention level continued to suffering. Everyone would always joke around about my inability to remember anything from 30 seconds ago but it no longer angered me. On the ice and at training I would be thinking of other things and worrying about the future instead of what I was doing at the present time. I could not retain any information reading. I would have to read lines over and over again taking me 4 times longer to finish then what I could have been doing. I started missing turns and exits driving, and even when talking to someone I could not understand their whole story as I was in a trance the whole time. I went to my psychologist and I was diagnosed with Combined Type ADHD. It explained the inattentiveness, the hyperactivity, and the impulsivity.

        I got a tryout in the SPHL with the Knoxville Ice Bears the year after I graduated. I prepared myself in every way possible, but anxiety and pressure consumed me. I focused on proving myself to everyone that I was the toughest one out there. I trained everyday, my body and skills were ready for the tryout but the anxiety got the best of me. Instead of playing, I was looking to fight during the camp. All I wanted to do was fight. I was nervous and resorted back to my outlet in fighting. Unfortunately, after a few games I was sent to Peoria, Illinois to play. From fighting, I tore the labrum in my shoulder. I headed back home for season-ending surgery in my “first” professional year. This was devastating to me especially because I was so close to achieving my dream and my body was giving out.

        I headed home and spiraled into a deep depression. Everyday crawled by as I waited for my shoulder to heal. My mind was filled with wild thoughts and I was driving myself deeper and deeper into a black hole. I did not want to move and I just wanted to give up. I truly did not know if this was the end of me and my career.  However, the support of my family and friends got me back on the right track. I got myself in the best shape and hockey form of my life and ended up signing a professional contract in Slovakia this year. I headed out there in August. The anxiety, depression, ADHD, motor ticks, and the short fuse anger were all going to have to wait. I was finally going to live my dream and when I stepped on the ice for the first game I knew that I was in the right state of mind and had made it. Not only did I prove people wrong, but I also proved myself wrong about being worthless. I may be that “crazy bastard” loving to fight and do damage, but I have learned to use that for the good. My anxiety has been depleted with self-control and treatment, my depression is almost nonexistent, and I am more focused than ever. I had one of my best years of my career and although I had to head home early due to some passport issues, I am very excited for the future and extremely driven to do whatever it takes to make it as far as I can.

        So what is hockey to me? It is not just a sport. It is the reason why I am still living today and continue to push forth. It gives me the outlet to prove people wrong and make every ounce of blood, sweat and tears worth it. Although I may not be in the highest professional league, it means more to me to be there than anyone can imagine. It’s not a measure of success for me. It is the representation of life and death, and making it, by proving to everyone and to myself that I am and will continue to be a professional hockey player. Because I know one thing and that is I will enjoy every day, live one day at a time, and know that even in the worst of times there is always a way out. Now as a professional hockey player and mixed martial artist, I will do whatever possible to continue living my dream and move as far up the ladder as I can.

Nicholas Metcalfe

Nicholas.Metcalfe27@gmail.com