Anchor lets down ‘mask’
Seeking help for mental health issues let Reid be himself again
Ken Reid appeared to be happily living out his childhood dream.
He had known what he wanted to do with his life since he was nine years old, after his father told him that sports announcers get to attend hockey games for free.
As he worked his way up the broadcasting ladder with stops in Calgary, Ottawa, Edmonton and eventually Toronto, Reid would always show up to work with a smile on his face, priding himself on being kind toward others and not taking himself too seriously.
But his happy-go-lucky demeanour often hid the way he truly felt.
“There were a lot of days when it was just a complete and total mask,” Reid said. “You walk into work, you’re shaking, and you feel awful about yourself.”
Reid, who now shares that smile with
Canadians on prime time television as a co-anchor of Sportsnet Central, wore that mask for nearly 20 years, living with crippling depression and anxiety that got so bad it would made him physically ill.
“I just had this cloud over me forever,” he told the Star in a phone interview from his home in Toronto. “It was something I lived with. It became part of me.”
There were times Reid had to psych himself up just to make it through the day. “Let’s go, you can do this,” he would say. He berated himself after shows when he didn’t feel like he performed well. He would wake up paranoid the morning after and rewatch the previous night’s episode. The thoughts were often too much to deal with, taking his mind down a dark path.
Reid, 46, grew up in Pictou, N.S., and started battling his inner demons at the age of 14 when he went through a rapid growth spurt that marred his confidence and his feelings of self-worth.
“I went from this kind of cute little athletic kid to this awkward-looking teenager,” Reid said. “I just started questioning myself basically about everything and I didn’t feel good about myself.”
He started spending more and more of his time holed up in his bedroom, the walls filled with sports memorabilia, poring over his tens of thousands of hockey and baseball cards.
“It was an escape for me,” he said. “It helped me through a lot of lonely nights.”
As he became an adult, Reid turned to alcohol rather than sports cards as a coping mechanism. He’d feel better about himself after a few drinks, but it
was a temporary reprieve, making him feel worse the next day.
Reid sought professional help in his mid-20s but says he didn’t give therapy a legitimate shot. After a couple of sessions, he decided he had the requisite tools to figure things out on his own.
“It was the pure definition of insanity. I kept trying to fix it myself and I was not equipped to,” he said.
In his mid-30s, Reid had a confidant in his wife, Ash Reid, and he would constantly unburden himself to her. As a child, Ash had watched her own mother struggle with bipolar disorder. In the fall of 2011, she firmly told her husband he had to take steps to address his mental health.
“I just remember saying, ‘Enough.’ ” Ash said. “‘You have to get professional help. You have to work on this because it’s just going to keep happening.’ ”
At his wife’s urging, Reid sought out the closest doctor he could find in the Yellow Pages, booked an appointment, walked into the physician’s office, and said “fix me.”
The doctor told Reid there was no miracle cure, and that he’d need to be patient, and this time he was. He continued to attend treatment and eventually went on medication. Slowly, he started to feel like the cloud that had hung over him for over 20 years was dissipating.
“It’s like, ‘Oh my god. Why didn’t I do this when I was 15 years old?’ ” he said. “It was great when it clicked.”
In treatment, Reid learned that in order to feel better, he had to start being kinder to himself, and he developed important coping strategies to handle everyday problems.
“He was able to manage things that he’d never been able to manage before,” Ash remembered.
“He became unstuck.”
Nowadays, Reid says he’s in a great place psychologically. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, his evening shifts on Sportsnet Central gave him a lot of time to spend with his two sons, Jacoby, seven, and Langdon, five.
“I like to think I’m an engaged dad and I think I’m a better father because I’ve addressed that stuff. I don’t sit in my room too much going ‘woe is me.’ ”
When his boys are at school during the day, Reid uses much of his free time to write. Since 2014, he has written six books, including three bestsellers and two of which were about hockey cards, a feat he says was only possible because he addressed his mental health.
“Sitting down to write a book is not an easy thing to do. If you’re struggling through a day, the last thing you want to do is anything,” Reid said.
In retrospect, Reid knows he spent too many years trying to get better on his own accord and is thankful his wife pushed him to see a psychologist.
“It changed my life. It started with one small step and it was the best step I ever took,” he said. “It’s like if you have a leaky faucet, you try to fix it first instead of calling the plumber. Well, the plumber’s a professional. People have to swallow their pride and just call the plumber first. I wasn’t trained at fixing it, but I thought I could.”
Reid hopes his story might help others who are struggling to see the value in seeking professional help. Now, when the dark cloud starts to reappear, he feels equipped to handle it.
“I guess I have an umbrella to cover myself from the rain, whereas before I would just sit outside and it would just pour down on me,” he said.
Most importantly, Reid’s happy-go-lucky demeanour is no longer a guise for contradictory emotions within.
“I’m happy to say I don’t have to wear the mask anymore.”