Professional golf, often romanticized for its serene courses and individual pursuit of excellence, hides a grueling reality beneath the surface. The mental demands can be overwhelming, pushing even the most talented athletes to their limits. Recent candid admissions from prominent figures in women’s golf have reignited conversations about the psychological toll of competing on the LPGA Tour, highlighting issues like relentless pressure, financial strain, and the struggle to maintain mental resilience.
One of the most vocal voices in this discussion has been Paige Spiranac, a former professional golfer turned influential media personality. In a recent appearance on a popular golf podcast, Spiranac described herself as a “headcase” on the course, openly admitting that the intense pressure of competition was a key reason she stepped away from pursuing a full-time LPGA career. She emphasized how difficult it is to secure and maintain an LPGA Tour card, noting that even at her best, she felt unprepared for the level of play required. Spiranac’s raw honesty—”I didn’t like playing. I didn’t like competing. I didn’t like the pressure”—shed light on the mental battles that many players face, particularly on developmental tours like the Epson Tour, where lower purses add financial stress to an already demanding path.
Spiranac’s comments resonate deeply within the LPGA community, where the mental health challenges are far from isolated. They echo the experiences of Lexi Thompson, one of the tour’s most accomplished players, who has been remarkably open about her own struggles. Thompson, an 11-time LPGA winner and major champion, announced in 2024 that she would step away from a full-time schedule, citing the cumulative effects of constant scrutiny and pressure that began when she qualified for the U.S. Women’s Open at just 12 years old. Turning professional at 15, Thompson has spent nearly two decades under the spotlight, enduring high expectations and emotional exhaustion.
In 2025, Thompson has continued to compete selectively, playing in select events and majors while prioritizing her well-being. She has spoken about feeling “freed up on the mental side” with a reduced schedule, allowing her more peace and the ability to enjoy the game on her terms. Thompson has also taken breaks to recharge, acknowledging past periods where she struggled with burnout and the isolation of tour life. Her advocacy extends beyond personal experience; she has participated in panels and discussions on mental health in sports, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing emotional health over relentless competition.
The concerning truth hinted at by these players is that the LPGA’s demanding environment can take a profound toll. Lower earnings on secondary tours, combined with the high-stakes nature of professional golf—where every shot is scrutinized—create a pressure cooker that tests even the strongest minds. Only those with exceptional mental resilience often thrive long-term, while others, like Spiranac, choose different paths to preserve their love for the game.
Thompson’s journey, in particular, underscores a broader shift in women’s golf. By stepping back without fully retiring, she has found a balance that allows her to compete when she feels ready, without the burden of a full slate. This approach has not only helped her performance in select events but also sparked wider discussions about sustainable careers in the sport.
As the LPGA continues to grow in popularity and prize money, addressing mental health remains crucial. Players like Thompson and voices like Spiranac are leading the charge, reminding the golf world that behind every powerful drive and precise putt is a human being navigating extraordinary pressures. Their openness may pave the way for future generations to compete with greater support and understanding, ensuring the tour remains a place where talent flourishes without sacrificing well-being.
