This is a letter to anyone who has been following along over the years.
This is a detailed documentation of both my spiritual and mental health journey over the past 3 years. And how together they have transformed my path in life.
Warning: This gets pretty dark and completely vulnerable.
As many of you know, I have devoted much of my life to the game of basketball. It has served as a vehicle for me to travel all over the country. From a junior college in New Mexico to a d1 in Brooklyn, to a running a summer camp in Maine to working for the legendary Indiana Hoosiers, to a mid-major on the rise in Phoenix to the courts of Venice Beach.
And then right back to that junior college in Roswell, New Mexico.
Full circle.
My basketball journey was the driving force leading to so many of my most cherished adventures and relationships. Chances are it had something to do with you reading these words right now.
With that said, over the past few years I have experienced something shift within myself. This shift began when my fresh-out-of-college-dream-job with a professional team in South France fell through, due to a shady business deal and a global pandemic. Of course I was bummed out, but I decided to use this test as an opportunity to travel inward and “get to know the real me”. You know, ask the big questions… like the question the nature of your reality type of questions. Well, reflection provides clarity, and reflection points to this being the launch into my spiritual journey.
I spent the entire quarantine diving head first into “who am I, why am I, and what are we even doing here in the first place?”. Combine that with daily meditations, astrology readings, numerology readings, learning what chakras were, and a journal full of reflections. I couldn’t get enough. But as society began coming back to life my love for basketball was still peaking. In fact, I was hell bent on becoming an NBA general manager. Fortunately, thanks to my guy Ed Schilling, I was able to land on my feet with a great opportunity at Grand Canyon University to continue up that ladder.
So, I packed up my chevy Cruze with everything I owned and drove across the country from Indiana to Phoenix in June of 2020. My job instructions upon being hired were as simple and straight forward as possible: “get our guys better”. It was a great summer season composed of tireless hours in the lab with my guys. Life was good. And then, we were gifted a week off, and then, is when it all began to change.
Then, is when I went surfing.
Long story short, I visited some friends in LA, went surfing in Malibu, and caught the first wave I ever paddled for. Magic. I remember driving back to Phoenix thinking “damn, I spent my whole life launching orange balls at metal circles when I could’ve been dancing on water this whole time?” Well, reflection provides clarity, and reflection points to this wave launching me into the next chapter of my spiritual journey. However, this was also the point where it began turning to shit.
About 2 months after getting back to Phoenix my responsibilities as the player development guy started slowing down as we switched gears into season mode. Hindsight says that I could have done a better job finding other ways to contribute to the program, but to be completely honest, the corporate feel that is division 1 college basketball began to gnaw at my soul and my dream of becoming an NBA GM. This in no way is a slight to the staff at Grand Canyon, this is simply the game I signed up to play. It became evident to me that I had no real care for rings or cutting down nets, I just wanted to help my guys get better. As a graduate assistant, I was in a weird spot. I wasn’t really in the mix with the coaching staff and I wasn’t one of the guys either. I was pretty much on an island. Kinda like a free-lance player development guy on the outside looking in.
So regular season sessions essentially became jump shot maintenance, situational awareness drills, and vibe checks. And here comes the part where I spiral into an existential, quarter-life crisis. Right around the time our season got put on pause because of covid. Right when the GCU covid restrictions kept me 6 feet away from the team and doing anything basketball related (besides running the clock). I was also living on my own and restraining myself from having a social life to avoid covid and being the reason our season got shut down, again.
These circumstances led to social isolation and a downward spiraling state of mental health.
Instead of reaching out to the guys on staff, or anyone else, I retracted inward and into my own personal studies. I started becoming disinterested in anything and everything that was not my own personal study of psychology, philosophy, and spirituality. I studied psychology and philosophy in college, but basketball always came first. Well, all of the sudden basketball, my childhood love, began feeling like a 9 to 5 job and all I wanted to do was surf and understand the meaning of life. Weirdly, I knew that for me, those answers were intertwined. Quickly a problem was arising — I wasn’t able to do the job I signed up for and there was no ocean in Phoenix.
I began to experience a deep sense of confusion. Here I was, positioned well on my climb up the corporate basketball ladder that I had worked my entire life for. Yet, here my soul was, screaming that it wanted no part of that ladder anymore. I really felt like I was losing my mind, but the thing about depression is, asking for help doesn’t even seem like an option, ironic, I know.
By December I was walking into work every day with crippling anxiety, afraid to my colleagues in the eyes, feeling guilty that I wasn’t providing value and because I didn’t even want to be there anymore. I felt as though my purpose in life was being taken from me. Every single human interaction felt forced and draining. I still don’t even know if anyone noticed because I smiled through it all. And this is where I really fucked up. Instead of asking for help or turning to my loved ones, I made the mistake of all mistakes.
I turned to drugs.
My vice of choice was Vyvanse. Aka 60 mg of unlimited focus and euphoria — literal jet fuel for my deep, intense studies with those questions I mentioned earlier. Slowly but surely, it became my new best friend. Slowly but surely, I began to lose control.
It was January now and things were getting out of hand, fast. To the point where if we ever had a day off, I would wake up at 4 in the morning, take my dose of jet fuel, or two, and then study until practice the NEXT day. It gets worse. After the second time our season got shut down, covid-restrictions got to the point where I was no longer able to travel with the team OR work with my guys, which was also ironic because I was one of two people within the entire program who hadn’t tested positive for covid. In a completely backwards sort of way, I was grateful for this banishment — because it allowed for more cracked-out study sessions. The irony of studying the path to enlightenment while being depressed is a sick joke. But such was my life.
Depending on how long the team was gone would determine what kind of study session I had. There were 2 versions. A quick road-trip meant an all day session in my studio apartment, but an extended road-trip meant a full on trip to Malibu, where I would sleep in my car on the side of Pacific Coast Highway. On this 6 hour drive I would just think and write. With no exaggeration, I was scribbling through notebooks while driving 100 mph. I had no fear of death, because I didn’t really care about anything.
I was truly lost.
The only thing that brought me peace in this dark, dark place was the ocean. It was the only thing that made me feel whole. I feel that these all day, ocean-side meditations and day-dreaming about surfing were the only thing keeping me going.
It was mid-February now and our season had just got shut down for the 3rd time due to covid-protocols. This meant that I had to stay home from practice now, “just to be safe”. And this is when I cracked. That night I had what some would describe as “the dark night”, which is essentially a mystical experience where you become completely consumed by darkness and feel absolutely nothing other than pure emptiness. Not fun.
So here I was, weeks away from achieving one of my childhood dreams of making the NCAA tournament, but even that didn’t matter anymore because I couldn’t bare this cross any longer. The depression, the guilt, and my lifestyle choices had me defeated. I no longer felt worthy to be a part of a good thing. So, I wrote everyone within the GCU Men’s basketball program a hand-written note, told them what I loved about them, and made my Irish goodbye into the night. I retreated back to my cousin’s place in New Mexico and a couple weeks later the boys got the job done. They made the tournament for the first time in school history. It was beautiful, yet gut wrenching to watch them cut down nets from my laptop, but my guys and the staff showed love. And I cried.
Thank you for that, fellas.
Unfortunately, I was still fully stocked with government mandated amphetamines. And one thing I learned about addiction is, when you become dependent on something other than your own self, your ability to discern properly fucking disappears.
It’s April of 2021 now. Welcome to the part where I sold my car to become a surf-bum in Venice. I found the cheapest place in all of LA that was within biking distance to the beach. So, I moved into a shoe-box sized apartment with 3 strangers and called it home.
A month into my LA stint it became increasingly evident that I could not sustain this way of being without running myself into an early grave. So like some shit out of a movie, I took my stash, one capsule at a time, and ceremoniously poured each one into the ocean. And I cried again.
As I mentioned earlier, reflection provides clarity and reflection points to this being the next chapter of my spiritual journey. So, for the next few months I rode my bike to the beach every day, meditated, surfed, and contemplated the meaning of life. All while effectively burning through every dollar to my name.
All in the name of self-discovery.
Those 3 months were priceless, though. Because it gave me my life back. It re-kindled my inner fire and I began to open my heart to the world again. And I was sober. Within those 3 months I established an indescribable bond with the ocean and crossed paths with some of my favorite humans in the world — aka Venice Ball & team Hoopbus. Let these words serve as a thank you for inviting me into your family when I needed it most. You know who you are.
As September hit I was broke as a joke and life threw me my next test — continue on my left-hand path into the unknown or swerve right back to what I knew best aka domesticated hoop. I went right and accepted a position as an assistant coach back at the junior college that took me in as an 18 year old kid.
I still don’t know if it was genuine excitement to give my hoop dreams another go or if it was a fear of homelessness that guided me into this decision, either way I realized fairly quickly that coaching college basketball was not the path for me.
For real this time.
This time though, I was overcome with a deep-sense of peace by this re-discovery. I knew that this was going to to be my last season coaching college basketball. I knew that this was my own version of “the last dance”. (S/o D Wade for being the reason I picked up a ball in 3rd grade). A great last dance it turned out to be. One that ended with a regional semi birth and the best finish in school history. I want to thank my family in Roswell for always leaving the light on for me. You guys have always been there, through it all.
Basketball aside, those 7 months in the desert were dedicated to getting into the best shape of my life physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. And I did exactly that. I was ready to take on the world again.
A Phoenix from the ashes, kinda vibe.
My baseline intentions for life had now become simple:
Serve and surf.
In other words, I declared that I’d spend the rest of my life assisting whoever I can, to the rhythm of my ability to do so, while surfing all over the world along the way. I didn’t know how it would come together, still don’t, but my intentions were now clear.
And then came one of those moments where I Knew God, the Universe, or some Divine force was listening. Right when I received a job offer to be a surf-guide in Basque Country, Spain for the summer season. To be honest, I was not, and am still not a great surfer yet, but I had spent those last 2 years studying all things surf related like I was getting a degree for it (s/o to the legendary Brad Gerlach and WaveKi).
Without hesitation, I signed on to move overseas and live in an old Spanish farm house on top of a mountain in Aia, Spain. And sure enough, it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. One that I will cherish forever. Everyday this past summer has been a combination of meeting new people from all around the world, teaching them how to surf while improving my own surfing, and experiencing new beautiful perspectives. Thank you Stoke Surf House family and everyone I crossed paths with this summer. I love you guys. Thank you for reaffirming that I’d like to spend the rest of my days exploring Earth’s beauty and all of the perspectives within it.
So here we are, present day, October 10th, 2022 — also known as World Mental Health Awareness Day.
And here I am — sharing my scars with you and accepting whatever may come with that as I take flight into the next chapter of my spiritual journey.
This is the chapter where I advocate for the sharing of our inner-scars as both politically correct and super dope. This is the chapter where I use my voice to help bridge the gap between mental health and spirituality. This is the chapter about radiating boundless love to the world in all that I do.
If you’re still here, thank you for riding this wave with me. It is my sincere hope that these words inspire someone to embrace the dark times, because it is in the dark where we often discover our reason for being. And it was in the dark where I found mine.
You are not alone.
Everyone has their fight. And I’m certain that someone out there would be honored to help you find the light again.
I know I would be.
Love,
— G —