When Asking for Help Feels Unsafe |
Awareness of, conversations about, and expanding access to mental health services is essential but not enough.
Accessing support requires a level of physiological resilience and trust not not everyone has when needed.
We must respect the real consequences of sharing our struggles within competitive, performance-based cultures.
What if asking for help isn’t just difficult, but doesn’t feel safe?
Oregon quarterback Dante Moore recently shared, in a letter to Oregon Governor Tina Kotek reported by ESPN, that early in his college career, he found himself struggling to keep it all together. At 18 years old, carrying the expectations of leading a major Division I football program, he grew depressed. At the same time, his mother was undergoing chemotherapy after being diagnosed with cancer.
“The pressure and expectations… felt overwhelming,” he wrote. “Watching her endure chemotherapy while I tried to stay focused on school and football challenged me mentally and emotionally. It was heavy in ways that are difficult to put into words.”
What he was navigating wasn’t just pressure. It was a nervous system carrying overlapping signals of danger—on the field, in his identity, and in his family. Moore went on to say that, “as a young Black man and athlete,” asking for help felt like “climbing an uphill battle.” He said that it required “vulnerability and trust.”
As a quarterback, he felt an extra-heavy burden to keep what he was experiencing to himself. “I am expected to lead, stay composed, and carry responsibility for my team.”
We might feel these same obligations in our roles as parents, partners, coaches, therapists, managers, or leaders.
There has been a growing number of conversations in sports about athletes speaking openly about mental health. But there’s more to the story that isn’t being talked about as much.
As social mammals, we evolved to communicate, care for, bond together, and trust others in good times and bad. Beneath cultural norms, we are naturally inclined to reach out for support when we struggle—up to a point. Within our biology is a need to be seen, heard, understood, and ultimately accepted, even in moments of distress.
Sharing what we are going through with a trusted teammate, coach, friend, or support system is not just helpful. It is part of how we recover. It is how the nervous system restores a sense of safety and connection. It is how we heal.
But not all of us trust that it’s safe to feel safe. Not all of us trust that it’s safe to trust others. And as pressure builds and we move deeper into states of protection, it can also become natural to withdraw.
Reaching out, engaging with others, even allowing ourselves to be seen, can require more resources than we have available. In times of real distress, the nervous system can shift into a metabolically conservative state—numbing pain, conserving energy, and preserving what’s left. In doing so, it interferes with our capacity to get the support we need.
This is not a deliberate decision. It is an adaptive survival strategy.
So we pull back. And if we do reach out, or if someone comes to our rescue, we can be so shut down that we inadvertently disconnect from the very people trying to help. The signals we are sending through our voice, face, and body language can carry so much detachment that it becomes difficult for others to stay engaged. When that happens, we may retreat further into isolation.
The more pressure someone like Dante Moore is under, the more adaptive it can become to withdraw from the very support that is needed. The fact that he was able to reach out suggests access to a level of physiological resilience and trust not all of us have in life’s most challenging circumstances.
This is not simply a matter of courage or willpower. It is about the resources, both internal and relational, available to the nervous system in those moments. Help could be right there, even knocking on our door, but our system may be so depleted or distrusting that we cannot open the door and let that help in.
This helps us see that awareness and access to mental health services are not enough. We also have to consider the current state and capacity of the individual.
There is one more twist to the Dante Moore story: the real and potentially negative consequences of being honest about mental health struggles in highly competitive, performance-based cultures such as the NFL.
There can be risks to playing time, contracts, reputation, sponsorship, leadership roles, and how we are perceived by coaches, teammates, or ownership.
So we are left with a paradox.
What the body needs to regulate, including connection, expression, and being seen, can feel unsafe in environments where performance determines belonging.
Even as organizations encourage athletes to speak up, and as mental health resources expand, a deeper question remains: What happens to me if I do?
Will I lose my competitive edge? Will I still be trusted as a leader? Will this affect decisions about my future?
These concerns are not irrational. Research shows that athletes often hesitate to seek help due to stigma, fear of being perceived as weak, and concerns about how disclosure might impact their standing.
In high-performance cultures where comparison and evaluation are constant, and outcomes truly matter, these concerns are grounded in reality.
So we adapt. We hold it in, push through, and delay asking for help, not because we do not value mental health, but because, at some level, we detect the risks of being open.
This dynamic is not limited to professional athletes.
It shows up in leadership environments, corporate culture, high-achieving academic settings, and any hierarchical system where performance determines value.
We tell people to ask for help, be open, and bring their full selves. But the environment often communicates something else beneath our words.
Deliver. Do not fall behind. And by all means, do not let your personal struggles interfere with your performance.
And the body listens.
“In my life, what made the difference was support,” Moore wrote. “Support from my friends, love from my family, and access to the resources I needed to get better.”
The conversation around mental health is evolving in the right direction.
Athletes like Moore are speaking up and sharing their stories. Organizations are responding, and resources are expanding.
But a deeper question remains.
Can someone feel safe enough to be real and honest in a competitive culture where performance determines their place, and where yesterday’s performance is no longer good enough today?
Until we address that question, not just psychologically but culturally, the paradox will remain.
And many will continue to carry the burden of mental health in silence.
Which brings us back to what this moment is asking of us.
We need to continue having these conversations and expanding awareness of what’s really playing out in the minds and bodies of our most celebrated champions, and recognize their experiences in ourselves.
Second, even when help is made available, accessing that support is more than courage or willpower. It requires a level of resilience and trust not all of us have access to, especially when our resources are depleted or trust has been violated.
And lastly, until we acknowledge the real consequences of expressing our struggles and vulnerabilities in a comparative, competitive, performance-based culture, many will continue to carry what they’re going through in silence.
As Moore puts it, “Learning how to care for my own mental health made me a better leader, teammate, and student. I know what it feels like to struggle in silence. I also know what it feels like to be supported and to come back stronger. That support saved me.”
Gulliver A, Griffiths KM, Christensen H. Barriers and facilitators to mental health help-seeking for young elite athletes: a qualitative study. BMC Psychiatry. 2012 Sep 26;12:157. doi: 10.1186/1471-244X-12-157. PMID: 23009161; PMCID: PMC3514142.https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3514142/
https://www.espn.com/college-football/story/_/id/48225464/oregon-qb-dante-moore-reveals-struggles-mental-health
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