I may as well have scrubbed the period immediately following that Olympics out of my life, erased it, because I was gone. Although I didn’t think I was playing that well, my stats were good. But as for me, as a person, I was miserable. I wasn’t in a good place mentally.
My ankle had continued to deteriorate playing through the Beijing Olympics, and it was decided that I needed surgery, so I headed back home to Australia rather than return to Seattle. I had to miss the rest of the WNBA season, which I was also feeling really down about. Mum and Dad picked me up from the airport, and the emotions associated with coming down from the Olympics really hit me, I couldn’t speak, even to my own parents. It was so hard on them. They are and always have been there for me and done everything they could for me, but I was that far gone that I wasn’t able to communicate, even with them. When I did eventually speak, I was feeling so hurt that I think it came across as anger.
I had my ankle surgery and rehabilitated for a couple of weeks in the small, dark apartment I owned at the time in Sydney—it suited my mental state in a way, dark and closed in. I was only in Sydney for a couple of weeks after surgery, and then I went back to the US to be with and support Seattle, even though I couldn’t play, while they finished the WNBA season. They were defeated by the LA Sparks two games to one in the playoffs. The 2008 WNBA season was over.
I came back to Australia. They talk about the ‘black dog’ of depression, well that was it, that’s where I was, and it was the darkest most horrible place to be. The minute I opened my mouth all that came out was anger and bitterness. I had no clue how Mum and Dad could stand to be around me, and I think I may have even vocalised that, but they were there, as always. They helped me, stayed with me and persisted with me. There was a point where I wasn’t getting out of bed until about four o’clock in the afternoon, it took me a good week or two to get just to that stage, and Mum would give me a glass of wine and all this emotion would come out. I was struggling.
I eventually went on to antidepressants, I needed to. Facing that realisation was hard for me, I guess it was an admission of weakness. I didn’t want to tell my family, but it was evident to Mum and Dad that I was in trouble, I’d really shut down, I was a mess. It wasn’t something that was done to me, it was something that eventuated—take the environment that I’d been in, then add the elite athlete side of it, add that I’m a woman, and that I stand out in the community in more ways than one, add that I felt owned, I was owned, I was not my own person. All of this compounded by losing another Olympic gold medal match, having another possible career-ending injury and needing yet more surgery. I was struggling with everything. I felt physically ill all the time, I’d lost so much weight. Going back and looking at photos I was rake thin and back to my 2000 weight, which was before I’d actually physically developed. I was sick, sick as a dog.
While I was in Russia, I hadn’t had time to sort out my mental state and speak to a psychologist as I’d descended into depression. I’d spoken to a sports psychologist at the AIS when I was back in Australia just before the Beijing Olympics, but it was only a short amount of time before I was off again travelling, playing and preparing for the Games. I couldn’t maintain that relationship with the psychologist, being so-time poor, and having a one-off appointment didn’t really work. However, in our conversation he did suggest that I go on antidepressants, that they would help even me out—I’d declined at the time, but now I was back in Australia I realised I needed help. I went to my team doctors, talked to them and got a prescription, but apart from them I didn’t tell anyone, Mum and Dad didn’t even know. When they did realise I was taking them we still didn’t talk about it. I think the only person I really ever spoke to about this was Katrina Hibbert. We were sitting beside the lake in Albury, I remember talking to her about returning to Russia, and feeling a hell of a lot better being out in the warm sun rather than being back there in their bleak winter. It felt good to talk about it—but a couple of weeks later I was heading back to cold, dark Russia.