Maybe you, like me, aren’t into football or wrestling, and maybe you’re not inclined to click on a link to a sports magazine to read ten thousand words by a pro wrestler. But since we’re so similar, you might as well take it all the way and click on the link, like I did. (Grab some tissues first, because you’re going to have all kinds of feelings.) Ettore “Big E” Ewen’s chronicle of his battles with major depression and how he found the success he ultimately did as a wrestler is open, warm, vulnerable, compulsively readable, and ultimately celebratory, but without diminishing the struggle.
The older I got, as I moved through high school and toward college, the more it felt like my body and mind were both slowly killing me. But it’s wild how it works in life. On the inside you might feel like you’re dying … and on the outside you might look like you’re not only coping, you’re thriving.
In 11th grade, I received a Florida’s Bright Futures Scholarship, and was set to go to the University of Florida. Then in 12th grade, something unexpected happened. My parents couldn’t afford the tuition at Tampa Prep anymore, so they transferred me to public school. And while I was crushed to have to leave, there was a silver lining: Tampa Prep didn’t have football … public school did. So I joined the football team as a senior — and had a good enough season that I got offered a late scholarship to play at the University of Iowa.
I ended up accepting my Iowa offer. And that was an important moment for me, for two reasons. First, obviously, because going there changed my life. But also because I’ll never forget how I felt inside, on the day that I signed: the same.
I felt the exact same — the same emptiness and sadness and frustration and confusion I always felt. And I remember that being so jarring to me. It was like, The most amazing thing just happened … shouldn’t I FEEL amazing?? Aren’t those, like, the rules?! Why don’t I feel better at all??
It turns out, those aren’t the rules. And instead it was this ironic situation, where I’m on my way to Iowa on a full ride, as this high-achieving guy who from the outside seems like he has it figured out. But on the inside? It’s as if that guy didn’t exist. I was a mess inside. Actually … I was more like a ticking timebomb inside. And my achievements were kind of this mask I wore. They were the outer layer that kept people from seeing the timebomb tick.
And then my outer layer started to crack.
