The Cost of Armor: How I Learned to Let People In

When I walked away from basketball, I had no idea I was walking into the hardest game of my life.. learning how to be vulnerable.

Photo by Ike Lee on Unsplash

Toughness Was My Identity

Growing up, you learn fast that weakness gets punished.

On the court, you're taught to never let them see you sweat. That armor worked great in the NBA. It made me a reliable teammate, a grinder, the guy who always kept his cool.

But that same armor also shut people out.

I wasn’t fully showing up for my wife, my kids, or even myself.

I thought I was being strong.

In reality, I was hiding.

Retirement Hit Harder Than Any Screen

When the game ended, I didn’t just lose my job, I lost my compass.

I didn't know how to ask for help. The people closest to me were ready to support me, but I wouldn’t let them in. I was isolated, anxious, and unsure of who I was without the jersey.

The hardest adjustment wasn’t physical, it was emotional.

I had to learn to invite people into the parts of me I’d always kept locked up.

Letting People In Changed Everything

Vulnerability didn’t weaken me, it saved me.

It saved my marriage. It helped me connect with my kids in a way I never had before. I was no longer afraid to talk about anxiety, failure or uncertainty.

I found out that being real doesn't make you less of a man.

It makes you more of one.

I Thought Vulnerability Was a Liability

It took me years to learn that true strength isn’t about silence or stoicism.

It’s about connection.

And now?

I wouldn’t trade those quiet, emotional, unscripted moments with the people I love for all the game-winners in the world.