She was brave. She was daring. She was strong.
Her plan in life seemed so simple.
Do the gymnastics.
Do it right.
Win a medal.
Compete in college on scholarship.
She was so good, too. That's what kills me.
She kept winning.
She still has the medals.
She still holds the state titles in her heart, somewhere.
The girl that I knew didn't see the problems.
She didn't think anything of it when her coach told her to work out at home
because she was heavier than everyone else.
She thought it was normal to need knee braces, ankle braces
to walk normally at school
She popped more pain pills than an addict
because being hurt is no excuse for not practicing
The girl that I knew didn't know how to quit
until a doctor had to tell her her back was broken,
that if she didn't stop
she could end up paralyzed, ruined for her whole life.
The girl that I knew stayed strong that day for her family
but fell apart every night.
That girl had to wrap a back brace around her middle
every day
and tried to ignore the looks in the halls at school.
She visited herfamily teammates after the doctor made her quit
they acted sad for about five seconds-
but she wasn't the first whose body gave up
and they forgot about her within a week.
After eight years...
one week.
The girl that I knew tried to fight the pain, tried to ignore it
but when the MRI showed that her spine never healed,
that part of her vertebrae was worn down to nothing
She had to admit something still had to be done.
And when a doctor literally told her he sees this problem in old people all the time,
there's nothing that can be done
that she finally found a doctor who could fix it, but
that the only option was surgery
she had no way out.
a full year of recovery.
a full year of depending on others for everything
and no running, no dancing, no jumping, no sitting for long periods of time.
That year changed her.
For the better, I'm sure, but her life will never be simple again.
The girl that I knew was happy. The girl that I knew was naiive, but happy.
That girl is gone.
And I am left in her place.
Two rods, four screws in my spine,
plagued by anxiety, perfectionism and PTSD
from the sport Ilove hate loved.
I'm stronger now, different now,
but I still daydream about doing my routines again
and I wonder if my own little girls will want to do gymnastics
and I wonder if I'll let them
Her plan in life seemed so simple.
Do the gymnastics.
Do it right.
Win a medal.
Compete in college on scholarship.
She was so good, too. That's what kills me.
She kept winning.
She still has the medals.
She still holds the state titles in her heart, somewhere.
The girl that I knew didn't see the problems.
She didn't think anything of it when her coach told her to work out at home
because she was heavier than everyone else.
She thought it was normal to need knee braces, ankle braces
to walk normally at school
She popped more pain pills than an addict
because being hurt is no excuse for not practicing
The girl that I knew didn't know how to quit
until a doctor had to tell her her back was broken,
that if she didn't stop
she could end up paralyzed, ruined for her whole life.
The girl that I knew stayed strong that day for her family
but fell apart every night.
That girl had to wrap a back brace around her middle
every day
and tried to ignore the looks in the halls at school.
She visited her
they acted sad for about five seconds-
but she wasn't the first whose body gave up
and they forgot about her within a week.
After eight years...
one week.
The girl that I knew tried to fight the pain, tried to ignore it
but when the MRI showed that her spine never healed,
that part of her vertebrae was worn down to nothing
She had to admit something still had to be done.
And when a doctor literally told her he sees this problem in old people all the time,
there's nothing that can be done
that she finally found a doctor who could fix it, but
that the only option was surgery
she had no way out.
a full year of recovery.
a full year of depending on others for everything
and no running, no dancing, no jumping, no sitting for long periods of time.
That year changed her.
For the better, I'm sure, but her life will never be simple again.
The girl that I knew was happy. The girl that I knew was naiive, but happy.
That girl is gone.
And I am left in her place.
Two rods, four screws in my spine,
plagued by anxiety, perfectionism and PTSD
from the sport I
I'm stronger now, different now,
but I still daydream about doing my routines again
and I wonder if my own little girls will want to do gymnastics
and I wonder if I'll let them
because being hurt is no excuse for not practicing
ReplyDeletethis whole post is so powerful. your emotions are raw and honest and brave. thank you for this.
This is so powerful and raw, it claws at my feelings. "And I wonder if I'll let them"
ReplyDelete