In the last four years, JB Copeland has cemented himself as an encouraging presence in the mental health advocacy space, especially among young men.
But this was never his Plan A.
From adolescence into early adulthood, the 31-year-old had envisioned a future that looked much different. In his mind, football had always been the ultimate goal.
“Football had been my life since I was 6 years old. When I thought about what I wanted to do, it was always, ‘play in the NFL,’” he told Muscle & Fitness. “There was no Plan B. I’d made up my mind that this is why I’m here and this is what I’m going to do.”
However, during his junior year of college at University of North Carolina, Copeland was forced to adapt to a new, unprecedented reality.
A Promising Trajectory
Born Dec. 6, 1994, John Byron Copeland grew up in Southlake, TX, later attending Southlake Carroll High School, where he proved to be a gifted linebacker. Copeland completed 90 total tackles his junior year (with 45 solo stops) and 41 tackles over three games his senior year (which was cut short due to injury).
The 6’3”, 230-pound prodigy then took his talents to Navarro College, where he racked up some more notable stats: 116 total tackles in just 10 games during the 2015 season; 11.6 tackles per game (7th overall at the time among junior colleges); five sacks and seven tackles for loss (including one forced fumble and one fumble recovery)—all of which earned him the rating as no. 10 college outside linebacker prospect nationwide.
After a year with Navarro, Copeland committed to New Mexico State University, thus beginning his Division I career. In his freshman season with the Aggies, he played for nine games, tallying 43 tackles.
Finally, Copeland signed with the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in Dec. 2015, earning a scholarship to play with the Tar Heels during his junior year and their 2016 season.
Sadly, back-to-back concussions in his debut season with UNC sidelined Copeland for not just the rest of that season, but for the rest of his life.
Saying Goodbye to the Gridiron
After dedicating nearly 15 years of his life to football, Copeland was at a loss over what to do next. Plagued by intrusive thoughts and an unexpected reckoning with his identity, he fell into a “complete mental downward spiral.”
“Emotionally, years of suppressed anxiety and depression came to the surface. I didn’t have the structure I’d had before,” he began. “I was always so busy training, going to school, and reaching for my goal that when that pursuit came to an end, everything I’d been numbing came to the surface.”
Physically, he wasn’t exactly better off, either. Within three months of retiring, he dropped 55 pounds due to paralyzing anxiety.
Moreover, during an interview this past May, Copeland shared that he was prescribed Xanax to treat said anxiety. But, as he attempted to shoulder the weight of his anguish alone, he began taking more than he was advised to. Yet, it still wasn’t enough.
Soon, Copeland was asking teammates who’d recently undergone surgeries for their prescription medications to further supplement his dependency.
By his senior year, he lost his scholarship and flunked out of UNC.
Without the proper tools to sort through his feelings, he continued to rely on various vices for years. “At that time, it was the only way I could feel some type of internal safety.”
Eventually, though, Copeland’s substance abuse proved to be an unsustainable solution. In April 2022, he suffered a severe panic attack landed him in the ER.
And, suddenly, all the uncomfortable truths he’d kept suppressed could no longer be ignored.
“One day, the parts of you that you buried alive begin to revolt,” he told M&F. “The Band Aid doesn’t work anymore, and the journey into the darkness within must begin.”
The Only Way Out Is Through
With his hospitalization serving as a major wake-up call, Copeland knew that he needed to confront his addiction—and his emotions—head-on.
“I’d been in such a long season of darkness and ‘comfort’ that I had to do something to get me out of my comfort zone,” he said. “So, I had a conversation with my wife, and I made the decision to check into an addiction rehab facility in a small country town outside of Dallas.”
While he was terrified of this decision, 90 days in rehab ultimately changed the trajectory of his life. There, he discovered new ways to cope mentally, emotionally, and physically.
In addition to attending group therapy sessions, Copeland found refuge in working out and eating clean for the entirety of his stay, crediting both as his springboard into healing.
“At the time, my mind and emotions felt out of control. I couldn’t find balance, so I decided to focus on the one thing I knew I could control: my body.”
“Discipline in those early weeks opened up a portal to deeper healing for me. Focusing on the physical—building muscle and sweating—opened up a doorway for me to give it my all mentally and emotionally. I knew this discipline was something I’d need to hold onto for the rest of my life.”
Although his three months in rehab wasn’t easy, Copeland could finally be honest with himself—and others—about his mental-emotional wellbeing.
“When I got out of rehab, a lot of people around me wanted to hear about my journey. They were curious, yes, but they were also going through their own version of what I’d gone through. I thought, ‘Maybe there are more people who feel this way. Maybe I should speak on it.’ And that’s what I did.”
And with honesty as his foundation, the former NFL hopeful began to build his platform.
Healing in Motion
Since Copeland’s time in rehab, he’s amassed a following of 2 million on Instagram, 877,900 on TikTok, and 20,400 on YouTube, where he frequently imparts life advice on his followers.
Further, in 2026, he debuted his social series Whatever Works, where he focuses on conversations around emotional awareness, mental health, healing, and identity.
The same year, he published his first book, Sappy Medium: The Rough Draft, a so-called “self-feel” book comprised of Copeland’s short writings, letters, and unfiltered thoughts about healing, self-trust, grief, softness, and “learning to live in the middle.”
(What’s more: He’s currently developing an app that bridges the connection between mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health.)
Today, between advocacy work and business ventures, Copeland continues to redefine what living “in the middle” looks like for him.
As far as his workout regimen, he’s transitioned from the heavy lifting he adhered to in rehab to a more “functional” routine, including cardio, bodyweight work, and core strength.
Beyond training, he also acknowledges that there are areas where he still struggles.
“[Fostering] Community is something I’ve had a hard time with. I tend to isolate and stay in my head. But over the last few years, I’ve realized that I can’t do it alone.
I have my wife—who’s always been by my side—my parents, my two brothers, and a few close friends. But I feel like this is a weak spot in my life, and I want to get better at it.”
However, there’s something to be said about the close friendships Copeland does have—and how valuable close, trusted friendships can be for men of all ages.
“If you’re a man, there’s another man out there you can be completely honest with. When you bring that level of honesty to a relationship, the only option you have is to grow. We need accountability, and we can’t have it when we hold secrets. So, get things off your chest. What you’re feeling, struggling with, and thinking, is important. The truth will set you free.”
Lastly, as for high school and collegiate-aged athletes (and non-athletes, really) whose identities are largely defined by a specific goal—just as Copeland’s once was—he has some sage advice:
“When something becomes who you are, that thing will always let you down. I’m a big believer in giving it everything you have but not letting it become who you are. It’s a sport. Your life is bigger than a game. So, learn to deal with your emotions in a healthy way. Don’t let the stress of performance cause you to fall. It’s just a game, so play the game—don’t let it play you.”
If you or someone you know is struggling or in a crisis, call or text the Suicide & Crisis lifeline at 988 for free, confidential, 24/7 support.
If you or someone you know is struggling with substance abuse, please contact the SAMHSA helpline at 1-800-662-HELP.