At the hospital, I was told I fractured the base of my skull and two vertebrae in my neck. I was diagnosed with a Traumatic Brain Injury and a spine injury that would not only end my soccer career; it would change my entire life.
For what it’s worth, I did win the ball ;)
I don’t remember the collision or much of the days and weeks after, but I remember the pain. I was dizzy, had incredible pressure in my head, my eyes couldn’t track, my vocabulary and memory were cloudy, my neck felt on fire and my speech slurred. Sharp pains shot through my head when any movement, light or noise would happen and the migraine was constant. They told me people can get better through a lot of therapy, but some people don’t.
As I got in my neck brace and began rehabilitation, I began to see just how much my life had changed. I had been an athlete in the best shape of my life, a straight-A student and even a state public speaking champion. Now, I was trying to make it to each meal. My friends drifted as they enjoyed their first year of college, my purpose and passions swept away with one blunt force trauma to the head. Who was I without sports? How could I be happy with such a sedentary life? Why did this happen to me? I missed my teammates. I missed being busy. I missed my old self.
As people hear my story, I often hear, “This is why I won’t put my kid in sports.”
There was a time I wondered if I should be mad at soccer. Maybe if I had chosen not to play in college, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I had chosen tennis or ballet, the trajectory of my life wouldn’t have changed.
But I never could hate the game. I never could hate sports. Because sports taught me every lesson I needed to survive this brain injury.
The nerves I feel before a big procedure remind me of the nerves before a big game. The grit you develop when an exhausting 0-0 game goes into overtime translated to grit I need to fight the marathon of brain injury. The way I rely on my parents for mirrors the trust we have in our teammates on the field. Every day I do hard things, I pull in the perseverance from 6am workouts or miserable losses.
After one year I got out of my neck brace (hallelujah) and my black eyes faded, and after two years I was learning to live with my disability. I managed to finish college, although it looked different than a typical college experience. I didn’t spend weekends at parties or hold a regular job. I couldn’t wear a backpack or be in loud places without ear protection. But I made the best of what I could do, taking an internship with the athletic department making sports videos and eventually starting my own sports show. 
The work I put into the other side of sports proved to be fruitful, because at the five year mark, I was hired in the NFL. This felt like a big achievement, not because of the magnitude of the league but because I had found a way to keep sports, a piece of the old me, a part of my life. My first task as an employee was to write letters to fans going through a hard time. “You have the strength to get through this, and when you feel like you don’t, remember we are with you,” I would write, knowing I could relate to their battle more than they knew.
But just like college, my disability followed me into the NFL. I attended brain rehabilitation at 6:30am before a full day’s work, holding onto railings at work to keep my balance and staying late to do work without the lights and noises that slowed my brain down during the day. The invisibility of my injury – the way you could not see my pain by looking at me – allowed me to hide it from those around me. One time I had vestibular testing at a hospital in the morning – which is where they put you in a spaceship-looking machine and spin you around until you are close to vomiting - and then I walked across the street to take our players to visit kids at Seattle Children’s Hospital. The juxtaposition was not lost on me; I was so grateful to be alive and, at the same time, struggling.
Despite my perseverance, my body developed complications that put me back in the hospital and took away my ability to work. It wasn’t the triumph story I had planned, but I have come to understand there is a lesson in it all. This time, it was that not everything can be “pushed through”. Sometimes you have to listen to your body.
When my story was shared on ESPN and when my Dad went viral on Tiktok, I felt the veil of “I’m okay” being peeled away from me. I had hoped to be known for breaking barriers for women in the NFL or for my charity work, but instead the most intimate parts of my personal battle – my sickness and how much I still depended on my parents to keep me alive – was on display. I felt like an imposter because I hadn’t yet conquered this, and deeper down wondered if I ever would.
But I also heard from people who were facing invisible battles of their own. Veterans suffering from PTSD, 20-somethings with chronic illness and former NFL athletes who are now adjusting to the mental and physical challenges of life after the game, the only thing they ever knew. I was reminded that everyone – everyone - is battling something. And for many people, you would never be able to tell by looking at them.
I hope my story reminds you that every hour you put into that field, whether you are still playing or not, is teaching you lessons you can’t yet imagine. When you get up for your early morning conditioning, I’ll be gearing up for my own. When you make a mistake and your teammate bails you out, I’ll be hanging on to my parents for saving me. And someday, after you’ve stepped off the field for the last time, when you smile about the memories and all the lessons you took with you through the rest of life, I’ll be smiling, too.
Life’s challenges can be as simple as winning a 50-50 ball or as complex as a life threatening injury. Remember Ladyballers, keep fighting, keep persevering, keep smiling-you got this.
Emily Petterson
IG: @EmilyPetterson
Dad Advice IG: @DadAdviceFromBo
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Very inspiring story! At 28 yrs old, I suffered multiple fractures and internal injuries from a 1988 Motor Vehicle Accident. I’m lucky to be alive. I left the hospital with the words, let her brain rest and we will see if she even do simple math. The words, Traumatic Brain Injury, were never spoken. My broken brain was discovered a decade later when I was reading a
Book by the New York jogger describing the after effects of a brutal attack. I finally had a “name,” for the difficulties with persistent fatigue, memory problems, confusion and anxiety over my inability to think the same as “before.” I relearned everything from chewing to swimming. I pushed myself, hard, which is what I also learned from playing sports. I continued parenting my two kids with passion, returning to my love of teaching young children, and always trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Decades later, children grown, divorce, retirement, losing my dad, a full life, a counselor asked me if I ever grieved what I gave up. That thought never occurred to me, I was only grateful to be alive and felt selfish to grieve over what was. Once I took the time to cry and mourn over the confident, athletic, easy going person I was, I felt lighter. I learned it’s possible to be sad over what was and grateful for my present body is possible. I really am a different person and I learned who this person likes, dislikes, needs and wants are quite different than my past person, and it’s unhelpful to compare and fuss over wanting things to go back. I also grieved over losing so much time to figure the misunderstanding of me out. I’m content now, happy with my life now. I don’t want pity, never did, but I yearn for reasonable expectations. and that starts with myself. I need 9-10 hours of sleep each night. Too much responsibility overwhelms me, so does multitasking. Following recipes take immense attention. I get lost driving all the time, even with gps.. IKEA, Costco, Walmart overwhelmed my senses and I’m in a rush to get out of there. Social conversations in a group are impossible, I lose my train of thought when someone interrupts me or talks over me. Working full time did me in, I retired at 58 and so much stress stopped.
Baby steps forward and you’ll always arrive,
Kathleen Abel
kathleensueabel@gmail.com
Wow! I just saw you on the Kelly Clarkson Show with your Dad for the RadDad edition and I had to look you up on Google. I am amazed and in awe of you. I played sports and continue to be active as an adult. My father got me into cycling and that developed into completing in triathlons. I lost my dad suddenly to a heart attack in 2005. He played college football and was drafted into the NFL, back in the day. I often wonder what his life might have turn out like, because he played football duringthe time of the “letterhead” helmets. Also, I have several friends who have been hit by cars as we were out on the roards training for tri’s on our bikes. They suffered TBI’s because someone did not want to share the road with a cyclist. All this being said, I could never truly understand what you are experiencing, but I celebrate your courage and resilience, and applaud your parents for their wisdom and love to challenge you each day, espcially your Dad for his videos…you never know the lives you might touch!
Thank you for sharing this! I too had my soccer career ended by traumatic brain injuries. This felt so relatable and I hope that others who have had TBIs see this story and feel less alone.
Inspiring. Real. Thought provoking. Thank you Emily for writing this, and thank you Soccer Girl Problems for the platform! I’m 18mo out from my TBI and your story has helped me feel rejuvenated. I am in awe at how you were able to finish college, get hired into the NFL, AND continue to work all before having to take a moment to heal further. And absolutely BALLER to be a woman in the NFL 👏👏👏 you are breaking down barriers of all kinds left and right! Keep pushing. Keep inspiring. We are rooting for you. (And well done on winning the 50 50 😉)