One of these mental myths I find that tennis players hold is that players at the top of the game—those you see on tv—don’t struggle with issues like confidence, performance anxiety, pressure, or choking.

I’ve been in tennis now for 20+ years, and I can tell you for certain, without breaking confidentiality, that even players inside the top 500 and above in the world struggle. The myth is that if you’re “mentally tough,” you’re somehow immune from the functions of being a human being.

Bullshit.

You’re not.

And, more importantly, I want you to know, that you’re not alone.

Why do I say this?

Because when I speak to aspiring professionals, collegiate, and even recreational players, they sometimes hold this idea that they are somehow individually rotten. That they alone feel as if their heart is going to burst out of their chest; that they alone have so many thoughts that they can’t even think straight let alone turn their attention toward where they want to return the ball.

This is unequivocally untrue.

Why am I telling you this? Because I’m leaning into Dr. Kristin Neff’s idea of self-compassion. Specifically, I’m trying to highlight your common humanity. It’s this idea of zooming out of your personal struggles and understanding that you’re not the only one who’s suffering, the one who’s experiencing doubts before your match, the only one stuck in a coaching situation that isn’t working.

And, in fact, though hailing from positive psychology, this idea of self-compassion has been translated into the sport psychology literature by researchers such as Dr. Ashley Kuchar. (I’m in a self-compassion special interest group hosted by Kuchar, so I’m hoping to learn all I can about self-compassion in sport.) As an aside, I believe that self-compassion is extremely important for athletes and high-performers. Self-criticism has been our friend in the past. It has forced us to improve our skills, improve our performance, and driven us to achieve more. However, when it becomes corrupted and devoid of self-compassion, we can truly suffer.

What can you do with this information? Well, the next time you’re feeling performance anxiety start to creep in, feeling the niggling doubts before a match, or finding you’re struggling to even keep your attention here and now in the present and it’s being constantly whisked away to what ifs… I want you to pause. And remind yourself, you’re not alone.

I’m not alone.

From recreational players in leagues across Europe, Australia, the United States, to collegiate players battling it out for scholarships, to professionals on tour, we all experience these feelings to a degree. At the risk of sounding like I’m beating the same drum again and again, you’re not alone.

You might be thinking that this is all too much like hippy talk.

“Give me something solid and tangible. Like a progressive muscle relaxation. Or maybe a imagery tape, Malhar. Don’t entertain me with this philosophical self-compassionate stuff.”

Sure. I get it. Maybe this kind of thing won’t work for you and you prefer traditional psychological skills training techniques from sport psychology. But I invite you to try it out. And I’ll even tell you why this technique works.

Recall that we spoke about what happens when you appraise a situation as threatening: your hypothalamus kicks off the sympathetic nervous system and the hpa-axis and floods your body with epinephrine, norepinephrine, and eventually cortisol.

We know that this reaction has a tendency to narrow our focus so that we hone in our perceived threats in our environment, which subsequently makes us a little less psychologically flexible. We get fused with our thoughts, fear, arousal, and anticipation—glued to the reactions we’re experiencing

By telling yourself, “I’m not alone,” and that “players across the world are experiencing this, too,” we can start to expand our narrowed focus. But that’s just the start. I invite you to create a story of a player with whom you can connect.

Perhaps a recreational player in Italy, competing for the first time after a knee surgery, experiencing performance anxiety and reinjury anxiety.

Perhaps a 17-year-old in Europe, wanting to progress far in her junior ITF, because it will mean that she’ll be able to leverage her results to get a full-scholarship to a big division 1 program.

Perhaps a pro who’s hit a slump of bad results in the last 4 weeks and is now on the cusp of falling out of the top 250 and subsequently the grand-slam qualifying draws—which will mean the loss of a guaranteed $25,000.

We’re all human. Competition is a fascinating beast. And showing yourself some self-compassion by understanding that you’re not alone is one way to alleviate the pressure.

Disclaimer: I am not a licensed psychologist, mental health counselor, PsyD, or clinical PhD. I am currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Sport, Exercise, and Performance Psychology and am a sport psychology practitioner-in-training, working toward the Certified Mental Performance Consultant® (CMPC®) credential provided by the Association for Applied Sport Psychology (AASP). My work focuses on applied, non-clinical mental performance consulting, using evidence-based techniques grounded in psychology, sport science, and applied sport psychology to help athletes enhance focus, manage pressure, build confidence, and improve performance. I do not provide mental health counseling or clinical therapy. When needed, I will always refer clients to licensed mental health professionals for concerns beyond the scope of performance consulting. I have over 20 years of experience in tennis, including as a player, collegiate and professional coach, and director of programs. I am certified by the Professional Tennis Registry and am a member of Tennis Australia. My goal is to bring athletes the best research-backed insights to support long-term development and performance. If you are a researcher or practitioner and feel I’ve misunderstood or misrepresented any concept, I welcome you to reach out, and I will gladly review and issue corrections if appropriate.