Today, I’ve got a couple of meetings in Manhattan, which gives me the perfect reason to stop in and work from one of the best places on this island: the New York Public Library. (You can’t see me, but I am smiling from my soul ).
The library has always been one of my most happy places.
When I got my driver’s license in 1993, I realized a new freedom to go the library any time I wanted. I’ll admit, when I didn’t feel like going to diving practice in the middle of winter in Southern California (which was a lot), you would’ve found me at Huntington Library. It was my haven, where I didn’t have to be anything for anyone. No performance requirements. No cultural expectations. Just me.
Libraries remind me of Proverbs 24:3-4, “By wisdom a house is built, by understanding it is established. By knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.”
Libraries are spaces that remind us that we are more than just our sport…and more than any expectation, stereotype, or label that society might put upon us.
Through their caring guardianship of books, art, and artifacts, we are given the gift of knowing ourselves, knowing our history – where we came from, who were our ancestors, and why we are here.
Through their welcome, acceptance, and support of any person who enters their doors, libraries act as the old “village hearth,” where people use to sit around the fire and spend time together, sharing stories.
And finally, through the incredible stories within each book, we touch base with our humanity. We are reminded that we are complex, multitalented, and resilient human beings, capable of so much in life.
When my formal athletic career ended in 1999, I was lost. After 15 years of identifying as “an athlete,” and being told where to be, what to do, how I should think, what do I need to do be better, etc., suddenly there was no coach.
There was no coach who could guide me through the transition from high performance athlete to…I still don’t know exactly how to describe it…”normal person?” “non-athlete?” “non-high performing young adult?” Nothing sounded good as a replacement identity.
My own parents hadn’t even retired from their jobs yet. They didn’t know what it meant to “retire.” They couldn’t guide me either.
Thus began an epic journey of emotional and mental wandering that took years. But, what was an anchoring space in all that time? The library. Where I could still sit quietly to do my work or read, or peacefully be “lost” without any expectations.
Today, content in my identity as a “Forever Athlete,” the library continues to be my haven. And I’ve come to realize that a library is symbolically what I strive to be as a human being: A quiet place. A safe space. For myself, for my loved ones, and for my community. Carrying stories of beautiful experiences, wisdom, and knowledge within.
Who are you outside of your sport and life expectations? Where is your haven?
All the best,
Laura
Note: This and every Athlete Illuminated post is for educational purposes only and not a replacement for mental health treatment. If you are in urgent need of mental health support, please call 9-8-8. If you are experiencing an emergency, please call 9-1-1 or go to your nearest emergency room. For ongoing mental health concerns, consider seeking professional support or therapy.
The Athlete Psychotherapist 
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