One of the things I say to athletes early on in therapy is simple. This only works if we are honest.
That includes honesty from me, but just as importantly, honesty from you.
In sport environments, athletes are often very good at performing. Not just on the field or court, but in conversations as well. Many athletes are used to telling coaches what they think they want to hear, downplaying injuries, brushing off nerves, or saying “I’m fine” when they are anything but.
That habit can follow athletes into therapy.
I have worked with athletes who sit down in the first session and tell me everything is going well. Training is good. Confidence is good. Preparation is good. But as we talk a little longer, something usually begins to surface. Maybe the night before competition is full of anxiety. Maybe they are constantly replaying mistakes in their head. Maybe they are exhausted from trying to look confident all the time.
And that is where the real work begins.
Therapy is not about presenting the polished version of yourself. It is about bringing the messy, uncertain, sometimes uncomfortable parts into the room as well. The thoughts you feel embarrassed to say out loud. The doubts you think you should not be having. The frustrations you have been holding onto after a tough performance.
Those are often the most important things to talk about.
Honesty allows us to understand what is actually going on beneath the surface. Without it, we are working with a filtered version of the story, and that makes it much harder to build strategies that genuinely help.
At the same time, honesty goes both ways. Part of my role as a sport psychologist is to be transparent and direct with athletes. Sometimes that means gently challenging the stories they are telling themselves. Sometimes it means pointing out patterns they may not have noticed yet.
The goal is never to judge. The goal is to understand.
Because when athletes can be honest about what they are thinking, feeling, and experiencing, something important happens. The pressure to hold everything together begins to soften. And from there, we can start building skills that actually support both performance and wellbeing.
In my experience, the strongest progress in therapy rarely comes from perfect answers. It comes from honest conversations.
