Caroline Souza thought she was born to play soccer. Her childhood dream of playing collegiately came true when she was offered a scholarship to Chico State in California.
Then a series of concussions forced her to make a difficult call: step away from the sport she loved to protect her health.
Below, Caroline shares her Inspiring Story to help other athletes. Not to sugarcoat reality, but to show what’s still possible. A full life, and a hopeful path forward that doesn’t sacrifice your future.
Trying to Power through Concussions
By the time I was 20 years old, I had suffered seven concussions from playing soccer.
That’s not a number I ever imagined would define how I lived. Like so many athletes, I thought toughness meant enduring the pain. We push through pulled muscles. We train when we’re sick. We feel disappointed in ourselves if we take a day off. I believed loving the game enough meant I could overcome any health problems.
My third concussion in November of 2023 showed that wasn’t true.
It wasn’t just a hit to the head. I broke part of my neck and suffered a brachial plexus injury in my shoulder. An ambulance rushed me from the game to an emergency room, where doctors said my injuries were similar to what they see in motorcycle crashes. I will never forget the feeling of being unable to move my arms as shock flooded my body. Even now, it’s hard to fathom how one bad soccer tackle could cause so much damage.
But my 15-year-old self’s love for soccer took precedence over everything else, including my health.
For months, I went through rehab, recovery, and training just to get back on the field. Looking back now, this period is around when I first started noticing changes in myself. But soccer was my whole life, and headaches weren’t going to stop me. When concussion number four occurred, I just kept soldiering on. If I overcame number three, I could get past this, too.
That mindset carried me all the way to my seventh and ultimately, final brain injury.
Making Dreams a Reality
Playing college soccer was always my dream. Both of my sisters played collegiately and I was determined to follow in their footsteps. When I signed that paper to play at Chico State, it was a happiness I had never felt before. All the difficulties of my past felt justified.
But walking the hallways my senior year of high school, I often felt off. Some days the headaches were so bad I sat in my car and missed class because I couldn’t bear the light or the sound of the bell. Still, I kept those struggles buried deep inside because what I wanted most was to put on a college jersey and play alongside athletes I admired.
My first season of D2 soccer in 2024 felt like a culmination of all my dedication and sacrifice. My jersey was #3, a number I had used since I was three years old. I passed the fitness test. I practiced. I played substantial minutes. I scored my first and last collegiate goal. I made the travel roster. I did all of it while pushing myself further than anyone could possibly know.
I was happy and content. I complained about training some days, just like any other athlete. I took it all for granted, because I could have never imagined being done playing before graduation.
Then, on a cold March spring morning at practice, one final hit to the head brought my soccer career to an end.
This part is hard to write about because I don’t remember much. That final injury forced me to take a step back and truly reflect on the damage done to my brain. I found myself grieving not just the loss of soccer, but the loss of who I once was. I am not the same person anymore. My brain has undergone changes and I see the world differently now.
Some days the headaches are so severe I can’t open my eyes. Other days the brain fog makes me lose track of what I’m saying mid-sentence. I read a single line and immediately have to look away because the strain is too much.
But in spite of all these difficult moments, one thing has never wavered: my hope.
Living with Hope for the Future
Recently, I tested that hope in a way I never expected: running my first half marathon. It was harder than anything I’ve ever done since leaving soccer. But my goal wasn’t a fast completion time or receiving a medal. It was proof. Proof I could still push my body despite a brain injury. I finished in under two hours and have never felt so accomplished.
Crossing the finish line came with consequences; a migraine afterward, a reminder my body still speaks in symptoms. But I had prepared with intention. I listened, adjusted, and navigated my body’s limits without surrendering to them.
That race taught me strength doesn’t mean pretending nothing hurts. It means moving forward, aware and proud. My body and brain are different now though still very capable. If given the choice, I would do it all over again. Not because I ignore the pain, but because I honor the process it took to get there.
I know I may never be the same and might live with these issues for a long time. Still, I refuse to give up on creating a new life and discovering the parts of myself that were overshadowed by being an athlete. My story doesn’t end just because soccer did.
I’m sharing my story not because I’ve yet recovered, but because I’m still fighting. I want to spread awareness about concussions, especially in soccer, where these injuries are too often minimized. When my doctor explained the consequences of continuing to play after my most recent concussion, it wasn’t a list any young athlete should have to hear. No game is worth a lifetime of pain without fully understanding the risks.
If you’re an athlete struggling and wondering if what you’re feeling is “normal,” please know you aren’t alone, and you aren’t weak. I still have to remind myself of this at times, because even now my brain tries to convince me otherwise.
During rehab, my trainer gave me an assignment. Before I could be cleared to return, he told me to talk to my loved ones and ask whether I should continue playing soccer or stop completely to prioritize my health and future. Every single one of them chose the latter.
They knew how much joy soccer brought me. They knew how determined I was to come back and how painful it would be to lose the game. Despite that, they still chose my health because they loved me for who I am, not for my athletic prowess. In that moment, I realized I wasn’t just a soccer player in their eyes. I was a daughter, a sister, and a friend. A person whose life mattered beyond the field.
You don’t have to be fully healed to remain hopeful. Whenever you have a positive day, let that hope become your whole personality. Shine brighter than you ever have. And during those tough moments, remember those better times. Reach out to the people who give you strength. Even if it seems far away, one day you’ll feel at peace.
Don’t give up on your future just because it looks different than what you might have planned.
As former soccer player Christen Press said on Instagram:
“I let go of football before I felt ready. There’s grief in an unwritten ending, a story mid-sentence. But somewhere along the way, what felt like failure became freedom. If you’re in your own in-between—half shed, half holding on—be gentle. Growth doesn’t ask permission. It simply continues.”
To ensure you receive the best care, it’s important to do your research before selecting a concussion clinic.
When mismanaged, concussions can have devastating consequences. However, with proper management and support, concussion patients can expect a full recovery.