How Cheer Pulled Me Out of One of the Darkest Seasons of My Life

Around this time of year 3 years ago was a period of my life when everything felt heavy.

Not the kind of heavy that comes from a long week or a stressful day — but the kind that settles into your chest and refuses to leave. The kind that makes getting out of bed feel like a marathon. The kind that convinces you that you’re falling behind in life, even when you’re trying your hardest just to breathe.

Depression and anxiety have a way of making the world feel gray and distant. And for a while, that was my world.
Small tasks felt impossible.
Things I used to enjoy didn’t feel like me anymore.
And the people who loved me didn’t always know how to help.

But somehow… cheer did. At 35 years old, I signed on to compete on an open non-tumbling team. And it saved my life.

Cheer Gave Me a Reason to Show Up

In that dark season, walking into the gym was the only time I felt even a little bit like myself.

Something about the music, the movement, the rhythm of counts — it all gave my brain a break from the constant noise of worry and exhaustion. Even when I didn’t feel good, cheer gave me a reason to get up, get dressed, and keep going.

And sometimes, having something to show up for is the first step toward healing.

Cheer Gave Me People Who Didn’t Know They Were Saving Me

Depression can make you feel incredibly alone, even surrounded by people.

But in cheer, you can’t be alone. Someone is always relying on you — to stunt, to tumble, to count, to encourage. You matter to the team whether you believe it or not.

There were practices where someone’s laugh snapped me out of a spiral.
Days when a teammate’s “You okay?” meant more than they realized.
Moments when being part of a group kept me anchored when my mind tried to pull me under.

They didn’t know I was struggling.
They didn’t know I was breaking quietly.
But their presence was a reminder that I wasn’t invisible.

Sometimes, community is the medicine we don’t know we need.

Cheer Gave Me Confidence When My Mind Tried to Take It Away

Depression and anxiety tell you lies:

“You’re not good enough.”
“You’re falling apart.”
“You can’t do anything right.”

But cheer forced me to face those thoughts — and disprove them.

Every stunt we hit was a small win.
Every practice I pushed through was proof I was stronger than the voice in my head.
Every correction I applied was a reminder that I was capable of growth.

Cheer built me back piece by piece, even when I didn’t notice it happening.

Cheer Taught Me That Hard Doesn’t Mean Hopeless

There’s a point in every routine where it feels like you have nothing left… but you keep going anyway.

That taught me something.

Healing isn’t about pretending you’re okay.
It’s about taking the next step, even if it’s shaky.
It’s about trusting that the hard moment isn’t the final one.
It’s about knowing that being tired doesn’t mean you’re failing.

Cheer mirrored life in a way that made me believe I could push through the hard parts — not perfectly, but honestly.

Where I Am Now

I’m not telling this story because everything is magically fixed.
I’m telling it because I learned that it’s okay to struggle.
It’s okay to need support.
It’s okay to talk about mental health out loud.
And it’s okay to find your “light” in unexpected places.

Cheer was never a cure — but it was a lifeline.
A grounding place.
A reminder of who I was when I couldn’t see myself clearly.

And because of that, it’s now part of why I care so deeply about supporting the mental health of the cheer community. I know what this sport can give someone during their darkest moments. I’ve lived it.

And if sharing my story helps even one athlete feel less alone… it’s worth telling.