From the Publisher & Editor In Chief

You may have seen the Netflix documentary, ”Untold: Breaking Point” about Olympic medalist and former top-10 ranked tennis player Mardy Fish. After soaring to the top of the tennis world, Fish began experiencing crippling anxiety that included arrhythmia so strong it made him fear he was having a heart attack. Though he sought medical help, the anxiety continued, until a match against Roger Federer at the 2012 US Open, when Fish agonizingly realized he couldn’t play, and forfeited. He sought help from a therapist who diagnosed an extremely severe anxiety disorder, eventually learned how to deal with it, and is now captain of the US Davis Cup team, as well as devoting much of his time to shining a light on mental health issues and helping others deal with anxiety.

My anxiety started in my twenties. I was doing an apprenticeship with the city’s most successful realtor, working all hours, holding myself to the same standards and goals as a veteran top agent (completely unrealistic for a 24-year-old kid who’d just got his real estate license), and it all became too much, despite the front I put up. While I’d never made so much money, with that came crazy hours (I went my first four years without a single day off) and an adrenaline roller coaster (residential real estate can certainly be mercurial and emotional, especially back then before the internet, when every offer was presented in person).

It wasn’t long before I was so stressed that I started feeling a lot of anxiety (heart racing, panic attacks, etc.). I knew I needed help. One day I drove over to my parents’ house and asked my father for the phone number of a friend of his who happened to be a therapist. I told my dad I’d been having anxiety attacks, or panic attacks, or both, and that I wanted to get help. My father, a “man’s man” from a generation that didn’t talk about such things, looked at me as if he feared I’d gone crazy. So I got the psychiatrist’s number myself and went to see him–he helped, but unfortunately, seemed to only treat my symptoms, not the cause. He prescribed medication, which provided welcome relief, but this went on for years, with monthly visits and increasingly more medicine.

Then, I received a letter in the mail informing me that my doctor was retiring. My anxiety spiraled even more (where was I going to get my medicine?). I called his office and a nurse assured me that wouldn’t be an issue; another physician in the office agreed to see me shortly thereafter. He looked in my file, then at me, and said, “You’re on a lot of medication. Do you need it?” I remember deadpanning, “Doc, your name ends in MD, not mine. You tell ME, do I need it?” He asked when my last anxiety attack or panic attack was (it’d been quite some time–that is, up until I’d gotten that letter). He told me he didn’t think I needed all the medicine, and that we were going to wean me off it. We did; it took about six months, and it was tough (you become dependent). But he also taught me to meditate (hugely helpful), to be mindful, and to manage my stress better. He helped me realize that having stress and experiencing ups and downs is a normal part of life, and without those feelings we’d be apathetic. I owe him eternally. Don’t get me wrong, these days, I still have anxiety, just a lot less, and I handle it much better.

So when I saw the Mardy Fish documentary, I thought about sharing my story. But I didn’t. Selfish? Afraid? I don’t know. But then a buddy at IndyStar, sports writer Gregg Doyel, wrote a sympathetic column about another incident, this one involving tennis player Naomi Osaka, who spoke out about her mental health issues after a recent match during which she was heckled. That’s when I knew I couldn’t hold this in anymore. Their stories are my story, or vice versa. I’ve never stepped on court at the US Open, without anything other than a camera anyway, and I can’t imagine that spotlight, or that of any professional athlete, but I want to use whatever platform I have to shine a light on mental illness and how real it is.

The truth is, we never know what someone’s going through, no matter how strong they appear in public. Whether you’re a world-class athlete, like Fish or Osaka, or a rock star, or a politician, or just an average person like me, mental health is just that–health. As Fish says, “They call it mental health, but the brain is a part of your body. It’s an injury–you just can’t see it.” It’s time we treated it as such.

Jeffrey Cohen

jeff@slmag.net