As a competitive athlete, I came to realize that success doesn't solely come from talent itself.
I've shed tears and felt overwhelmed with pressure
even before my turn to compete.
It's like being on a roller coaster, with ups and downs
that never seem ending.
When I was 8 years old, my mom took me to an ice rink on an incredibly hot summer day. As I watched the figure skaters spinning, doing incredible moves like lifting a leg above their heads or reaching back to touch their skate blades while spinning, I was amazed. To me, figure skating was the most elegant and fancy sport in the world, and I knew I wanted to be a part of it.
For a year, I skated purely for fun. Despite the cold rink, my heart would race with excitement every time I learned a new technique. Within that year, I quickly mastered the basic jumps. The coach even told my mom that I was born to be a figure skater because of my slim short agile body . Those words of encouragement filled me with determination, and I decided to dedicate myself to more intense training for competitive skating.
Gradually, I realized that my life was changing. I no longer had time to hang out with friends after school because I had to rush to the ice rink for training. Sleeping in on weekend mornings became a luxury I couldn't afford. I had to go to bed early every night because training during weekdays started promptly at 6:00 am. No more movie nights or sleepovers at my friend's house.
But that wasn't all. Almost every vacation, I had to attend skating camps and live a schedule that felt like a military training. Every summer and winter break revolved around skating. I used to think my mom had lost her mind, as even on our family trips, she would always find an ice rink for me to "keep my feet warm." In other words, she wanted me to practice and not forget the difficult skills I had learned.
As a competitive athlete, I came to realize that success doesn't solely come from talent itself. It's about how you prioritize your goals and tasks. It's about linking small milestones and using them as a foundation to reach new levels.
And why strive for higher levels? Because the people you meet along the way are going to be different. Their perspective on the world is like opening a new window for you. Competing with those great skaters is thrilling because I know how much effort they've put in to achieve where they are today.
Speaking of competition, sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. Figure skating is a solitary performance, with the whole audience's eyes fix on your every move. It's terrifying and stressful. In those moments, I could only hear the sound of my breath and the scraping of my blade against the ice. When I was in top form, I felt like I could perform my program flawlessly. But when I wasn't at my best, I would fall once, twice, or even fail on all the jumps. I've shed tears when that happened and felt overwhelmed with pressure even before my turn to compete. It's like being on a roller coaster, with ups and downs that never seem ending.
When I turned 14, I felt like I had reached my limit. Despite winning a few gold medals and standing on the podium, I realized I didn't want to put figure skating above everything else. I wanted to hang out with friends at school, excel academically, and even cut my hair short, something I couldn't do due to the requirements of the sport.
It wasn't an easy decision, and my mom was deeply disappointed at the time. And I felt a deep sense of hurt. I believed that I could never surpass those girls who worked harder and made greater sacrifices than I did. I doubted myself, my coach, my parents, and even the world at large. I felt a sense of meaningless, left behind by my peers, and constantly bother by anger and emotions. I stopped skating for a whole 400 days. It provided temporary relief, but there was still something wrong within me. My soul wasn't healed.
I was fortunate enough to find a professional counselor who specializes in working with teen athletes facing challenges. I began regular counseling sessions with her, and I also switched to another club where the coaches took a different approach, treating me as a complete person rather than just an athlete focused on technical skills.
This became a turning point for me. I stopped blaming others and took responsibility for my own path.
Stepping back onto the ice was a significant achievement and required tremendous courage. Regardless of the scores I achieved, I knew I am better than I was 400 days ago.
Today, I still train after school, but I no longer have to wake up at the crack of dawn or miss school hours. I'm still preparing for competitions, but I've reached a point where I'm content even if I don't execute a combo jump perfectly. I train to become a better version of myself.
This is why I established the Youth Athlete Wellness program. It's a counseling initiative that offers free sessions to teen athletes facing challenges and difficulties. I'm fully dedicated to running this program, drawing attention to the mental well-being of these specific individuals. I'm actively involved in fundraising efforts and recruiting counselors and mentors for the program.
My story serves as proof that with professional assistance, an athlete's life can be transformed, leading to even greater performance. Especially for teenagers, life stretches out ahead, full of opportunities to see the world from a positive perspective.