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Just Breathe Confessionals
Just Breathe Confessionals is a raw, reflective podcast where personal stories meet emotional growth, healing, and truth-telling. Each episode invites listeners into moments of becoming—through heartbreak, self-discovery, and the quiet power of breath.
Just Breathe Confessionals
Who Am I Without This?
Have you ever loved something so deeply it became part of your identity? That moment when passion transforms into purpose, creating a space where you truly belong? For me, it was soccer. From age three, standing as a goalkeeper became more than a position—it was who I was. The last line of defense. The protector. Every save ignited something in me nothing else could touch.
But what happens when that defining passion disappears? After a devastating knee injury ended my soccer career, I faced the emptiness that follows losing your anchor. The smell of dirt, the sound of cleats digging into grass, the weight of the goalkeeper gloves—all suddenly memories rather than daily realities. This episode explores that disorienting space between who we were and who we're becoming when our first love is taken away.
The journey through loss reveals something profound: the things we love don't leave us empty—they leave us marked. Soccer taught me to be brave under pressure, to protect what matters, to stand tall when everything feels overwhelming. These lessons didn't disappear with my ability to play. They became integrated into who I am beyond the field. Perhaps your passion was music, art, dance, or something entirely different. Whatever shaped you has left fingerprints that remain, even when the activity itself becomes part of your past.
If you're struggling with losing something that once defined you, or wondering who you are outside your passion, this episode is for you. Share your story of identity and loss in the comments, or let me know what first love shaped you. Subscribe to Just Breathe Confessionals for more conversations about finding ourselves in both joy and heartbreak.
Welcome back to Just Breathe Confessionals. I'm Daria, and today I want to talk to you about what it means to love something so deeply that it becomes a part of who you are. It becomes a part of who you are. We all have that one thing, the thing that makes us feel alive, untouchable, like the best version of ourselves. But sometimes that thing doesn't stay forever. Sometimes we have to let it go. So what do you do when the thing that gave you purpose suddenly isn't there anymore? For me, that thing was soccer. But this isn't just about soccer. It's about the joy of finding something that feels like home and the heartbreak of losing it. Maybe, maybe.
Speaker 1:For you it was music or dance or theater, maybe it was painting, writing or even just being really good at math. For me, it was soccer. I was maybe three or four when I kicked my first soccer ball and something just clicked. I was fast, I was focused, it felt like the game was made for me. And listen, I was that soccer girl. I watched Bend it Like Beckham all the time. My heroes, mia Hamm and, of course, david Beckham. My heroes, mia Hamm and of course, david Beckham.
Speaker 1:Soccer wasn't just a hobby. It was my identity, my first love, first loves don't just take up your time. They shape who you believe you are. I played goalie and I loved it. The last line of defense, anchor, the protector. There's something powerful about standing in that space, knowing the outcome might rest on you. Every mistake felt heavy, but every save lit fire in my chest. That's the thing about love. It comes with weight, with risk with, but the joy and meaning always outweighs the fear. That's what makes it worth it.
Speaker 1:Soccer gave me a place to belong. I wasn't just the anxious kid or the new girl in town. I was the goalie, and that meant something we all crave, that don't we? The feeling of slipping into a role that makes sense, an identity that tells the world this is who I am, this is what I can do. For me, it was pulling on those gloves, stepping into the box and planting my feet in the grass. The smell of dirt, the sound of cleats digging, digging in, the blur of the ball coming towards me. All of it stitched itself into who I believed I was. And isn't that what we're all searching for? A place where the chaos inside of us meets the purpose outside of us, a place that makes the messy, anxious parts feel a little quieter, because suddenly we have something to point to and say see, this is me, I belong here. That's the power of identity, whether it's a field or a stage, a classroom or even a relationship. It's not just what we do, it's how it steadies us, how it reminds us that we're not invisible, that we matter.
Speaker 1:But then things shifted. The joy tangled with pressure, coaches yelling, parents shouting, the politics of who starts and who sits, injuries, whispering Maybe you can't do this anymore. And underneath it all, the endless need to prove yourself. Eventually, the field that once felt like home felt heavy. What was once escape became another weight I carried, and that is one of the heartbreaks no one really talks about.
Speaker 1:When the place that once made you feel unstoppable starts to make you wonder if you belong there at all. The same thing that gives you wings can one day make you feel like it's clipping them. The same thing that gives you wings can one day make you feel like it's clipping them. And that loss of belonging. It's a grief all on its own. When something you love starts to feel heavy, it's easy to believe the only choices are all in or all out. But love doesn't always have to mean chasing perfection. Sometimes it's enough just to enjoy the thing without needing to be best. It took me a while to understand that, that you don't have to give a thousand percent every time for it to matter. That joy can live in the simple act of showing up, running, kicking, playing, without the scoreboard deciding your worth, and maybe that's the lesson in any passion. It's not always about being the star or proving you belong. Sometimes it's about letting yourself feel good, doing the thing you love, exactly as you are. That shift from pressure to presence can turn a weight back into a gift.
Speaker 1:And while I was dealing with all of these emotions on the field, my home life was crumbling. There was so much going on behind closed doors, things I didn't understand, things I couldn't fix. But soccer Soccer was steady. It was practice schedule, a jersey, a ball at my feet. It didn't ask questions about what was happening at home, it just let me show up and play. Maybe that's true for you too. We all carry things. People can't see the struggles, the heartbreaks, the secrets that don't make it into the yearbook photos. That's the thing about love. Whether it's a sport, a song, a sketchbook or a stage, it can be the one place that feels solid when everything else is shaky and from the outside no one ever really knows what's holding you together. That's why these first loves matter so much, because they don't just give us joy, they give a shelter.
Speaker 1:Eventually I couldn't play anymore. During a game, I went for a save and I wrecked my knee bad enough that I needed knee surgery and after that I could never really trust my knee again. Truth is, I never played soccer as a teenager after that. I never played soccer as a teenager after that. That one moment, one injury took the game I loved and closed the door. I wasn't ready to close, and walking away felt like losing more than a sport.
Speaker 1:It felt like losing me, because when something has been your anchor, your reason to wake up early, to push through pain, to believe in yourself, letting it go feels like cutting away a part of your own body. It's not just silence after the whistle, it's silence inside you. And that's the thing about love, whether it's a sport, a dream or a passion that wants to find you. When it leaves it leaves a hollow space you don't know how to fill. It, leaves you staring down. The hardest question of all who am I without this? And here's the truth.
Speaker 1:For a long time, soccer wasn't just my passion. It was my proof that I mattered, and maybe you felt that too, clinging to something outside yourself because it felt safer than trusting what was inside. Do you ever look back and realize you held on to something tighter than you should have because you didn't yet know how to hold on to yourself? When I lost soccer, I truly believed I had lost me. But here's what I've learned the things we love don't leave us empty. They leave us marked, imprinted. They leave us with strength, with lessons, with courage. We never realized we were building all along.
Speaker 1:Soccer taught me how to be brave, how to stand tall in the face of pressure, how to protect what matters most. I may not be a goalie anymore, but she's still a part of me, the way she moved, the way she fought, the way she refused to give up. I carry all of that, even off the field, and I bet you carry your first love too, whatever it was, however it ended, because that's the beauty of loving something deeply, even when it's no longer yours it leaves fingerprints on you, pieces of courage, identity and resilience you might never have uncovered otherwise. Thanks for spending this time with me and for letting me share how something as simple as a game could teach me about love, loss and identity. Maybe it's a reminder for you, too, that even when we lose the things about love, loss and identity, maybe it's a reminder for you, too, that even when we lose the things we love, we never lose the way they shaped us. Those pieces stay, they live in us Until next time. Just breathe.