Getting Back Up in Heels: Mental Toughness and Helping Your Athlete Through Adversity

Every great woman I know has a story about the night it all fell apart. The job that didn't come through. The heartbreak. The heel that snapped on the way into the most important meeting of her life. And every one of those stories ends the same way: she got back up. Maybe barefoot. But up.

Our athletes have those nights, too. The benching. The miserable game in front of the college scout. The injury. The cut list. The slump that lingers so long it starts unpacking its suitcase.

In fifteen years as a Division I coach, I learned that the athletes who made it weren't the ones who never struggled. They were the ones who knew what to do when they did. And as a mother of three, I've learned that watching your child struggle is its own exquisite kind of torture.

So I couldn't help but ask: are we raising tough kids, or just kids who are good at pretending?

What toughness really is (and isn't)

Mental toughness is not never crying, never quitting, and swallowing every feeling with a sports drink. Real toughness looks like:

• Bouncing back from a mistake instead of spiraling.
• Focusing on what you can actually control.
• Staying committed when the romance has worn off.
• Asking for help when you need it.

Yes, asking for help. Some of the toughest athletes I ever coached were the first ones brave enough to say, "I'm struggling."

Build the wardrobe before the storm

You don't buy a raincoat during the downpour. Resilience works the same way.

• Praise the effort, not just the outcome. "I loved how you fought in that third set" builds more confidence than "Great job winning."
• Make mistakes normal. Tell them about the time you completely blew it. Kids need proof that failure is survivable, and you are their best evidence.
• Give them a reset ritual. A deep breath, a cue word, a quick wipe of the hands. Something physical that says "next play." My tennis players each had one between points.
• Let them solve the small things. Forgot the water bottle? They'll figure it out. Small struggles build big resilience.

When the bottom falls out

1. Lead with empathy, not solutions. "That was really hard. I'm so sorry." Then, and this is the hard part, stop talking.
2. The ride home is not a film session. Let them bring it up when they're ready. Sometimes that's tonight. Sometimes it's Thursday.
3. Ask, don't tell. "What do you think happened?" and "What do you want to work on?" let them own the comeback.
4. Zoom out. One game, one season, one coach's opinion is not the final word on who they are.
5. Make a small plan they control. Extra serves. More sleep. A conversation with the coach. Action is the best cure for worry.

Things we should never say (but all have)

• "You should have..." They know. Trust me, they know.
• "Your coach is an idiot." It undermines the team and teaches blame.
• "After everything we've spent on this..." Oof. Never.
• "Just don't think about it." Instantly, they will think about nothing else.

When it's more than a slump

Sometimes a hard season becomes something heavier. If your child seems withdrawn or hopeless, isn't sleeping or eating normally, or loses interest in things they used to love, reach out to their doctor or a licensed mental health professional. Caring for their mind matters every bit as much as rehabbing an ankle.

We can't shield our kids from every hard moment, and honestly, we shouldn't try. Heartbreak is where the growth happens. Our job is to be the soft place they land, remind them who they are, and then cheer like crazy when they stand back up. Even if it's barefoot. Especially if it's barefoot.

xo,
Ladybird