Sports Help My Mental Health
It is often difficult to share about our mental health , even more so when you are an African. I was brought up in two worlds, my burundian life and the western world through the lenses of media. What I saw outside was the ability from westerners to share about their emotions, their feelings. In Burundi, I have never witnessed anything like that. Even with the history of the country, I could think of many reasons why we needed to talk about our struggles but we never really did. Talking about mental health in conversations means wasting time.
However, this time I would like to share a bit of how sports really has helped my mental health.
At school, I always never bullied by the children but by a couple of teachers. My first encounter was in Grade 2 (6 years) and I had a teacher who at the time had loads of personal issues and for some reasons never knew how deal with them outside of the classes and instead lashed out on her pupils. My time at the International School of Bujumbura is bitter sweet because on one hand, I have fond memories with my classmates and on the other hand, some teachers (I believe it was more of a chore than a calling) that were bullying for reasons I still am trying to figure out. Was it jealousy? It didn’t help when at 11 years, like most of my classmates I was given an opportunity by our school to skip a year and start middle school (collège in a French system).
My parents didn’t agree on the decision on the proposal and pushed me to go through the unwanted year — I had the necessary grades to be ahead but my own parents didn’t believe in me. A few years ahead, I was struggling with my classes this time and had to repeat classes (in a French system, once you have one or two classes, you have to start off the whole year). This time, I was in a classroom with my little sister who was 2 years behind me. It was a moment of shame and despair. The amazing thing is that I had failed biology class and the teacher was one of my fiercest bully. My classmates knew about it but I could not share the struggles with my parents. The Burundian/African system tends to favour the adult in the room.
I use the word bully now but to be honest, a year ago, I didn’t know what word to use — I could not allow the word, I had this self concept that bullying was only happening among pupils. Until one day, a friend posted the signs of bullying and I saw myself in the descriptions.
However, although I was not doing well at school — using the grade system — I was flourishing outside the classrooms. I was good in sports and had developed a team spirit that still accompanies me today. I was the first football player to play in our girls team while in primary school. Whether I was representing my school by playing football or playing tennis on the weekends, my confidence in achieving college level or pro level never wavered. But in sports, it was easier, no one could have contested my abilities. In a classroom, it was another story, I thrived in some subjects and was indifferent to others- in a classroom, I had no cheerleader, the parental support felt like a heavy weight .
Thankfully there was my math teacher in Grade 10 who really believed in me and my grades drastically changed. There is always that person, right?
Finishing high school and starting a new life in France took a lot from me mentally. Being homesick, dealing with a certain culture shock, the weather and other things, I didn’t allow myself to share that with my family — it could be seen as whining. How about sharing about my fears of the political instability of my home country to a friend here in France? He/She would not understand.
When a Burundian decides to share about something personal, there is always a joke, sarcasm included. There is no space to properly share.
The sports I played individually and in teams taught me a lot about mental strength. Something along the lines of when it is not done, there is still hope! Keep running! It also taught me the strength of sharing/communicating better. I believe that my mental toughness was shaped by my practice of sports. Hearing athletes share about their journey, I believed I could achieve my own dreams as well — possibly delayed but achieved nonetheless.
Growing with sports role models like Steffi Graff, the Williams Sisters, Monica Seles, the comebacks, the struggles but also, NBA players and football players. Sports gave a way in believing in myself before anyone did.
Sports taught me that it was OK to cry.
My paternal grandparents died in 2001, in January, 3 weeks apart. I was born in January. The deaths were sudden that I guess not one family member knew how to handle them. It is always tricky to talk about death to children. I remember friends offering condolences but at home, it was an unusual bereavement period : my parents and family members didn’t talk about it. Until now, that period is still blurry. I spent time playing football in the garden and playing inside and hoping for happier days. There are always happy days ahead : I buried my head in the sand.
I like how sports bring people together and how we all communicate through the language of a specific sport. For example, every time I am watching a Grand Slam (especially Roland Garros), I feel like I am at home and live the competition differently.
I realised that even writing this article, there are some issues I need to process — I am planning to hit the gym afterwards. That’s how I function — sports and my faith have help tremendously in accepting who I am and allowing people in my life.
