Finding Myself After Figure Skating

I spent 20 years of my life answering the question, “Who are you?” by loudly and confidently declaring, “I’m a figure skater.” It was always so easy, so black-and-white. Of course, I was other things – a daughter, a friend, a dancer, a girl scout – but first and foremost, I was always a figure skater.

I started my figure skating career early. At four years old, my pre-school took us to the ice rink. I saw another girl in white skates, instead of my brown skates, and knew that I had to be part of this world. The sparkly dresses and elegant movements only solidified what would become a long-lasting love affair with the sport.

As time wore on, and as other children realized that they wanted to spend more time doing other things and eventually quit figure skating, my love for it continued to grow. In high school, I was taking off my morning classes to skate, and in college, I took a two year break to train full-time. To say it was my life is an understatement. It was my everything.

But after competing at the 2014 U.S. Championships, my world came crashing down. My ice dance partner decided that he no longer wanted to spend the long hours pursuing this dream, and I was left without a plan. At 5’7 it was incredibly difficult to find a new partner who was tall enough. I spent months in the rink practicing and getting stronger, going to try-out after try-out, to no avail.

In the fall, I moved to another city to go back to school. The deal with my parents was that I had to promise to finish school once my skating career was done. I had always planned to finish, but I wasn’t ready to go back and give up on the sport I loved so soon. Returning to school was the true beginning of the end of my figure skating career. My schedule was packed and without a coach, I spent less and less time at the rink.

The following spring, my coach called to let me know that there was someone in the UK that was interested in partnering with me, even willing to wait until after I finished school in December. I thought about it long and hard. At that point, I was close to finishing school, had spent very limited time on the ice and was in a serious relationship. I made one of the toughest calls in my life, turned down the offer, and declared that I was retiring from figure skating.

It hurt so much to put it out there, even though I had been making moves away from the sport for several months. I remember waking up in the middle of the night in tears several months after officially “quitting”. Finding who I was after skating for so long was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I constantly had questions in my head – “Who am I?” “What is my purpose?” “What am I doing with my life?” “Will I ever find anything I’ll be this passionate about again?” I lived in fear of someone asking me who I was. How would I answer? Would I say I was a student? That felt dumb. A former figure skater? That hurt too much to explain.

After ending so much of my time as a figure skater, I couldn’t bear to set foot in the rink. Even though there was a rink on my college campus, I avoided it at all costs. About three months after quitting, I laced up my skates again and burst into tears as I took my first lap around the rink. This was my home – the place where I was most comfortable. But at that moment, I knew the reality was that it would never be home like that for me again.

Of course, skating will always have a place in my heart. It’s still a huge part of my life, and I’m so excited to watch my friends compete at the Olympics this year. I am now certified to sit on the technical panel and call levels at competition, which has been a fantastic way to stay involved. But from time to time, I see something or hear a piece of music and the heartbreak comes right back. There are still days where I wake up and wish I was going to spend 6 hours training on the ice. Growing up beyond the sport, I’ve realized just means there are fewer days where I feel that way than there were in the past. Maybe someday there won’t be any of those days, or maybe I’ll miss it for the rest of my life.

I’ve also become less scared when someone asks me who I am or what I do. I now have a thriving career in advertising, making creative work that I love. I have a fashion and lifestyle blog that I am incredibly passionate about. I have a boyfriend whom I love with all my heart, I have been on incredible adventures to places like Croatia, and I get to live in Amsterdam. I have so much to be grateful for. And I’ve realized that it’s ok to be more than one thing. I’m a former figure skater, yes, but I’m also a girlfriend, a blogger, an advertising professional, a friend, an expat – the list goes on.

Every time I see figure skating on TV, I find myself jealous of my friends who are still competing. But then I think about everyone I know who has also had to end their figure skating career and realize that we are all doing just fine. Whether you have spent years training for a sport or even just chased a dream only to have it ripped away from you, it will always be a part of who you are.  It is hard, but it is possible to find a life afterward. There’s a whole big world out there, waiting for us to discover other versions of ourselves.

Who am I? I’m me.

And that’s just fine.