“This Too Shall Pass”: Abi Ansell and the Silent Struggles of Student-Athletes

When we think about student-athletes, we often picture the high points, buzzer-beating shots, roaring crowds, championship photos, and jerseys hung with pride. What we don’t see are the invisible battles unfolding behind the scenes. For Abi Ansell, her first season with the Durham Lords was supposed to be a dream come true. But instead of stepping onto the court for her college debut, she found herself sidelined by a hip injury just days into preseason.

“I just wanted to play,” she said simply.

For Abi, that one injury cracked open something bigger. With her body out of sync and her basketball goals on pause, she was forced to confront something many student-athletes don’t talk about enough: the mental toll of sport. Not just the pressure to perform, but the exhaustion, the comparison, the isolation, and the fear of falling behind; in school, on the court, and in life.

The Mental Cost of Playing the Game

The reality is that many athletes, especially at the college level, are burning out. They wake up for class, sprint to practice, hustle to finish assignments, manage part-time jobs, and still try to maintain friendships, family ties, and some sense of self. That cycle rarely lets up, and for many, it leads to a quiet, constant state of mental fatigue.

Abi calls it what it is: overstimulation and burnout. “You go to school all day, then practice all night, and come home just to start homework. There’s no pause.”

But the hardest part? From the outside, everything still looks fine.

Mental health doesn’t show up in stat sheets or team photos. It rarely gets mentioned in post-game interviews. And when athletes do speak up, they often worry that it makes them look weak or less committed to their sport. But the truth is the opposite; there is deep strength in acknowledging when you're not okay.

Research Rooted in Lived Experience

Abi turned her own challenges into purpose. What began as a college class project turned into a larger investigation into the mental health experiences of athletes across sports and genders. She handpicked athletes from all backgrounds; captains, community leaders, players from different provinces, and asked them to open up. The stories she collected revealed just how common the struggles were, even among the most successful players.

What stood out wasn’t just the hardship, though it was the resilience. Time and time again, athletes told her about moments of homesickness, self-doubt, and mental exhaustion… and then shared how they found a way forward. Sometimes it was leaning on a teammate, sometimes it was a coach who really listened. Other times, it was simply remembering why they loved the sport in the first place.

“Even if I’m not the star,” one athlete told her, “I still get to do what I love at an elite level and only so many people ever get that chance.”

Building Systems of Support

Abi credits Durham College for creating a culture where athletes feel seen. Her coaches understood her background, took the time to support her growth, and never treated her like just another body on the roster. She points to the laughter in practices, the check-ins, and the constant reminders that basketball isn’t everything, that they’re human first.

But not every school is like Durham.

Abi believes more needs to be done across the board: real investment in mental health professionals trained in sports psychology, expanded support services, and a commitment to breaking the stigma. She saw firsthand how little funding college athletics receive compared to university programs, and how athletes in smaller systems are often left to manage the mental side of performance on their own.

“We need to stop pretending that college is just a stepping stone. For many of us, it’s the peak of our sport, and it should be treated with care,” she said.

A Message for Those Still in It

Abi’s biggest piece of advice? “This too shall pass.”

It's simple but powerful. She knows what it feels like to be stuck, overwhelmed, or questioning whether it’s all worth it. She wants current athletes to know that their feelings are valid and that there is life after a tough game, a missed shot, or a hard semester. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep showing up.

And maybe most importantly: speak up.

Because what Abi’s project revealed more than anything is that these conversations matter. Athletes aren’t immune to struggle; they just hide it well. But when someone finally says, “I’m not okay,” it gives others permission to do the same.

So next time you see an athlete on the court, remember: they might be carrying more than just the weight of the game. They might be carrying the weight of everything else, too. And your support—your empathy—might be exactly what they need to keep going.