Mariah Parsons

My name is Mariah Parsons and I am a senior on the Women’s Rowing Team at Notre Dame. I started rowing my freshman year in high school and immediately was drawn to the duality that is rowing. The sport revolves around trying to push beyond your boundaries while aspiring to appear graceful while doing so. In late October of my sophomore year, we were seat racing for our first scrimmage during our fall season and it was the last day of selection when I started to feel tightness in my chest about halfway through the practice. We were doing sprint pieces and I was in stroke seat so I didn’t think twice about it, telling myself I’ll deal with it after practice. The mix of my adrenaline, my goal to make the travel squad, and my unwillingness to give up mid-piece kept my drive going. In the last piece of the day, I felt a pop followed by intense shooting pain throughout my rib cage but I wrote it off as a possible muscle strain because the pain radiated around my ribcage. After getting off the water I talked to my athletic trainer and we decided the next morning before Saturday morning practice I would come in early to do some rehab before. While doing that rehab I remember laying down on the training table and having one of the trainers try to relax the pain by twisting my rib cage and my legs in opposite directions. I remember the pain from that movement being so terrible; I was so stunned and in shock that I couldn't even vocalize for the first few milliseconds to stop.

I don’t like to admit it because I struggle with vulnerability, especially in athletics, but I immediately broke out in tears, both from pain but more out of the raw frustration and unwillingness to admit how much pain I was in. The next breath I took was more painful than any breath I have ever taken during a race. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I knew the image I had of what my college rowing career would look like changed. I was immediately taken out of the travel squad and reduced to not practicing. Within the weekend I could only take shallow breaths and I couldn't get up from a lying position without help. We scheduled an MRI after consulting various team doctors because we had no idea where the pain was coming from, we hypothesized maybe it was a bulged disc. Usually, MRI results take 48 hours but I had barely gotten back into the patient room when the doctor knocked on the door and told me he was called in because the technician who took the MRI was worried my broken rib was going to puncture my lung and that I might need surgery. Many emotions came flooding in and I started to panic but thankfully I didn’t end up needing surgery. I was relieved to know my broken rib was causing the pain, but I also was devastated to find out there actually was an issue.

As many of us can relate to, the mental challenges I had to overcome were far greater in magnitude than any physical pain I experienced. It was very difficult for me to come to terms with the diagnosis because I felt like it was somehow my fault that I had broken a rib and I felt guilty watching my teammates train like I was of less worth than them. For the rest of my sophomore year and fall season of junior year I was in and out of practicing, two steps forward and one back, with every practice, every week, being a roller coaster trying to get back. I would feel good for a month during cross-training on the bike, with limited upper body movement, and I would go back to rowing for a few days just for one stroke to put me back in pain. I finally got back into practicing without any pain in my rib cage, back, or chest about 6 weeks before COVID, and although that was also a difficult reality I am happy to say that going into my senior year I have had no pain for the past 5 months. Although at the moment I was not grateful for the injury, I now have the self-awareness to acknowledge how much my perceived failure during my injury has forced me to grow. I have now made it my passion to advocate for the importance of speaking about mental health and to be an advocate. Mental health does not discriminate and does not exclude, no matter how much we may will it.

Luckily I knew I had a great support system throughout my journey and I regret never reaching out while I was struggling. I thought taking the journey alone was more admirable, but it only made me walk the path alone. It has been a long journey for me to appreciate and strive to be vulnerable and uncomfortable. I now know the importance of sharing our story instead of locking them up inside and I am empowered by reading and listening to the stories of others.