smashing. not spiralling.

I’ve had a therapist for a few years now.

Make no mistake about it, she saved my life.

For that reason alone, therapy is something I’ll never shy away from talking about. In my opinion, we should all talk more. Especially when things get hard.

And there have been dark times.
Really dark times.

One thing my therapist helped me realise was how much better I feel when I move my body.

If something upset me, I’d run.

Grab Sandy and run. Run until I couldn’t breathe properly. Because if I couldn’t breathe, then that had to become the thing consuming my thoughts instead.

Sandy, for the record, is a strict enforcer. Every single day there is a walk. No negotiation.

But I started noticing a pattern. The days it rained, snowed, hailed or blew an absolute gale across Manchester were always the days I struggled most.

Because those were the days I couldn’t play tennis.
Those were the days the walks felt miserable.
Those were the days I had too much time inside my own head.

Then one day, in what can only be described as an incredibly unathletic incident while putting my shoes on, I tore a muscle in my back.

Between L4 and L5 if you know your spines.

It was bad.

And honestly, my first thought wasn’t even about the pain. It was:
what the hell am I going to do now?

Because when you’ve experienced darkness properly, you know how hard it is to outrun once it catches you.

And respectfully, I am not interested in getting caught again.

So we pivoted.

We came up with a new plan. I journalled. I read books. I had face masks and “fancy bath” evenings. I did my stretches. Went to physio. Tried very hard to become the sort of sensible patient medical professionals dream about.

I focused on small things that made me feel good.

And slowly, we got through it.

That period actually changed the way I think about movement completely. I stopped seeing exercise as punishment or discipline and started recognising it as maintenance. Not for my body necessarily, but for my mind.

That’s partly why padel has become so important to me.

For me personally, it’s easier on my body than tennis ever was. Maybe because I spend half the match loitering around the net waiting to smash something instead of actually moving properly.

But more importantly, it massively reduces the amount of bad days.

I can usually play.
I can usually get outside.
I can usually see people.
I can usually move my body.
And that gives me structure, routine and connection.

It gives me good days.
So many good days.

My therapist and I only really check in every couple of months now.

In our last video call she stopped for a second and said:
“you look good. Really good. Strong. Fierce even. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this confident.”

“It’s padel,” I laughed.

But honestly, I think it is.

I play almost every day now. Sometimes twice a day. I’m stretching. Looking after myself more. Attempting, with mixed success, to avoid maintaining a strictly Twix-based diet.

But padel has changed me mentally too.

I’ll stand at the net and not feel afraid.
I’ll call out an Anonymous type player.
I’ll talk to strangers because the sport kind of forces you to.
I’ve met so many genuinely lovely people.
I’ve dated people through padel.
I’ve travelled internationally because of it.

This week alone I got invited to a private tournament, started planning my own Americano event and I’m playing Buzz League.

Which is objectively ridiculous when you think about how this all started.

Now obviously, padel isn’t a substitute for therapy. It’s not a cure for mental health struggles and I’d never pretend it is.

But movement helps.
Community helps.
Routine helps.
Having something to look forward to helps.

And for me at least, padel has quietly become one of the healthiest things in my life.

So if you’re struggling and thinking about giving it a go…

do.

I really don’t think you’ll regret it x