I Broke Down After 5 Finals Nights—Why James Harden Isn’t the Answer, and What True Healing Looks Like

The Night I Broke Down

I sat alone in my apartment after Game 5 of the Rockets’ playoff run—windows dark, silence thick. The crowd had stopped cheering. Stats scrolled endlessly on my screen: 42 points, 11 assists, zero clutch moments. They called it ‘heroic.’ I called it exhaustion.

I’m not here to idolize performance. I’m here to witness pain.

What Healing Looks Like

Healing doesn’t wear jersey #13. It doesn’t roar through halftime shows or viral TikToks. It lives in the quiet between breaths—the way you sit with your trauma and don’t let the world stop listening.

I’ve interviewed survivors who played through seasons that weren’t meant to end—they came back changed.

The Real MVP Isn’t on the Court

The real MVP isn’t James Harden—or any player who carries 40+ points like a weapon.

It’s the guard who stayed silent when no one was watching. It’s the kid who wrote their story instead of chasing validation. It’s the one who chose solitude over spectacle—and found grace in the stillness.

A Spiritual Humanism of Sport

Spiritual Humanism isn’t about wins per game. It’s about what happens after midnight—when the cameras turn off, and someone remembers they were human before they were icons.

I write not to heal others—but because I needed to be heard first.