The time had finally come. I weighed in, got a great warm-up in, refueled, and changed into my singlet. I was going to take the competition stage very soon.

I was energized and ready. Leading up to this competition, it was very important to me to soak up the whole experience, to take in every moment and be fully immersed in the present. To be fully aware of my surroundings and how it felt to be in my body.

I walked to the loading area with my coaches, handed my personal items to the basket attendant, and kept listening to my favorite competition-day songs.

"The ref screwed me." "My coach didn't prepare me right." "My teammates don't push me hard enough." "The seeding was unfair." "They got lucky."

Every excuse feels justified in the moment, and we can always justify blame. Each one-liner builds on each other like a pyramid, eventually isolating you at the top. When we blame someone else for what we failed to own, we hand them our power. Failure is scary, if not terrifying. And I get it. As a wrestler for Team USA for over a decade, I had my own fear of failure and moments where I lacked of ownership over my career. I created situations for myself that were obstacles; the excuse that someone else had “more talent,” “more resources,” or even “a more ideal body type for wrestling” only left me alone and isolated with my world view. Never did that perspective help me shift towards the wrestler I wanted to become, only away.

Your wrestler checks their opponent's TrackWrestling profile: State champion, 35-2 record, ranked nationally. Instantly, their demeanor changes. Stomach drops, tightness in the chest, breathing shallows, that confident warm-up energy evaporates. Or maybe it's a text from a teammate: "Dude, your opponent just teched someone in 45 seconds." Or perhaps it's their own mind: "I don't feel confident today. I'm such a head case. I'm going to lose."

"Tough it out." "Don't be soft." "The Champs don't complain." "Leave your emotions at the door."

Just because we have used language and trained wrestlers to “check their emotions,” it does not mean that we have created emotion-less robots. Athletes are not robots, and they do not perform on command without the right tools. They are complex humans like everyone else. And it is time we acknowledged that athletes are ALLOWED to have emotions and it isn’t going to be a threat to their performance. The very thing that is a threat to performance, is creating an environment where athletes push emotions down only for them to escape at the wrong time: in the middle of a high-tension match situation.

There’s a moment every wrestling parent knows: your daughter’s pacing near the mat, headphones on, zoned in. You say, “Good luck! So proud! Go get ’em!” And in return… an eye roll. Oof. It stings.

But here’s the truth: she’s not ungrateful. She’s overwhelmed. What she needs in that moment isn’t a pep talk, but a space to stay focused. Girls in wrestling are navigating intensity, nerves, and the heavy pressure to perform. Underneath the singlet and headgear is a young athlete trying to stay calm, stay confident, and stay in control. Parents can learn to provide an environment that helps their athlete thrive at competition.

Girls and women’s wrestling is thriving, and as more athletes step onto the mat, it’s crucial for coaches and parents to understand how to support their mental development effectively. While boys and girls share many of the same challenges in wrestling—overcoming setbacks, staying motivated, and managing competition stress—there are differences in how they process and respond to these experiences.

What is your why? Can you even remember anymore? When you do something for so long, its almost inevitable for your 'why' to come into question. Your why is the reason behind your effort. It is what keeps you driven, if you don’t have a why you may be weak when things get hard.