There are parts of yourself that you can’t control — the color of your eyes, the sound of your laugh, the way your heart beats faster when you see someone you’ve missed or the unconscious breaths you take as you sleep. 

One part of us that we can’t control, that many of us strive to conceal, isn’t something you can see from the outside. It’s the concrete core of our being, so why do we fight so hard against it? 

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It’s the chemicals in our brains. And sometimes, it feels like they are fighting against us. 

This column did not begin with the intent to discuss actual science because, frankly, as a journalism major, that is way above my pay grade. However, I did have the opportunity to speak with JaQuinda Jackson, a sports trauma psychotherapist with the qualifications to speak to these subjects. 

Jackson’s mission is to support high-level athletes through their mental health journeys, specifically in relation to past trauma that negatively impacted their mental well-being. 

“Oftentimes for athletes, they have some sort of trauma,” Jackson said. “Calling it a trauma or identifying it as a trauma, it’s a milestone for them. Instead of internalizing it, they use it to keep them grounded or use it to keep them going. So oftentimes they don’t label it as a trauma. They just say something happened.” 

Athletes use this trauma as motivation — whether they are doing it consciously or not — so these conversations usually require a lot of prompting for Jackson. 

“I created this burnout assessment, and it’s basically something that you can utilize every day to bring awareness of self,” Jackson said. “I use this during the initial sessions to get a feel of the headspace that they are in, and then we talk about our triggers.” 

The burnout assessment required Jackson to talk through her client’s day-to-day lives, including workouts, practices, meals and simple routines. This is where she finds the buried trauma for many athletes — whether it’s someone who has to finish every exercise in a workout or never wants to be late, there’s a root to the pressure that is often uncovered early on in Jackson’s process. 

Jackson’s approach to working with athletes is exponentially more hands-on than your average psychologist’s. Jackson will work to individualize therapy for each athlete depending on their personal burnout assessment. This therapy happens both on the couch and on the field — Jackson is proud to show up for athletes in any setting. 

“I might not come to every game, but I’m intentional about at least checking in on games and workouts,” Jackson said. “I think seeing the client in various different settings allows me as the clinician to better help him or her.” 

This is all enveloped in Jackson’s greater mindset of her work. For people to destigmatize mental health, they need to think beyond society’s standards for therapy. The solutions to our brain’s issues are misunderstood to be linear, and a new approach is needed to reach those who need help most. 

“As a clinician, when we have the conversations around debunking mental health, I think it’s very important for clinicians to be seen outside of the office space,” Jackson said. 

A common thread in my conversation with Jackson was the concept of meeting someone where they are. For Jackson, this comes in both physical and mental capacities. Whether that means going to an athlete’s game or designing a specific plan to unpack what that athlete is going through, Jackson understands the effectiveness of effort. 

“Every person comes in with their own experiences — for some of my clients they like to journal, so I’ll give them prompts to think about for our next session,” Jackson said. “I want them to lead and then [for] me to go along and guide … I want them to know that what you put in is what you get out, and this is not to make me a better person, this is not to bring me any type of fame or fortune. It’s for them to get better.” 

We cannot control the chemicals in our brains, but we can control how we accept the state of our consciousness and how we find solutions to the issues that arise inside of our heads. 

What I didn’t know was that, at a certain point, I would need to take my own advice. I’ve continuously challenged the notion that my brain (which has gotten me into the position to write the words you’re reading) was not flawed in any of its chemical components. 

While there isn’t any scientific proof yet, I know I have anxieties and fears and flaws that not everyone is granted. With those issues comes extra maintenance — maintenance I neglected, despite the perfection I portrayed in these pages. 

If you read this column, I may have implied in previous editions that asking for help is easy or that therapy is easy or that I am so mentally stable that I am qualified to be publishing these words. 

For that, I am sorry. There is nothing more difficult than admitting you need help. 

Walking into an incense-filled room, sitting on a hard couch and spilling your guts to a stranger is not easy. In fact, those steps up to the third floor of Engemann Student Health Center were some of the most frightening ones I took all semester. 

Asking for help is not easy, but it is necessary. Waiting too long will only make the fall even farther. 

A load is lighter when the weight is shared. Whether that weight is shared among trusted friends and family or a licensed professional is up to you. I urge you to send that text, draft that email or make that call right now. Those frightening moments in the waiting room could be the solution you didn’t know you needed. 

Dana Hammerstrom is a junior writing about the mental health of collegiate athletes, as well as the emotional pressures they face, in her column, “Heart to Heart.”