Life Beyond Sports: Shedding Our Athletic Armor
by theresa Kulikowski-Gillespie, former elite and collegiate gymnast
Let’s start with a little story…
“In ancient times, a revered tribal leader went regularly to the river to shed her skin, each time returning to her village renewed and invigorated. But one day things changed. Instead of floating away, her old skin got caught in a bit of driftwood. And when she returned home, her daughter ran away from her in fear, because this raw skinned new person no longer looked like her familiar self. Finally, unable to comfort her daughter, the woman went back to the river, found her old skin, and put it back on. And from that time on, the story tells us, humans lost their power to rejuvenate, to live and love fully...” — taken from Tara Brach’s “Radical Compassion”
This story makes me think of how we can get stuck “in our old skin”, so to speak, as we transition from one phase of life to the next. Sport retirement or a medically forced exit from a sport you love is one such transition.
Sports do indeed offer valuable life experiences. We learn incredible skills such as persistence, work ethic, and how to set and work towards goals. We develop life-long friends and learn what it means to be a good teammate. We push our limits and learn about our own physical and mental strength. We learn how to sacrifice and discipline ourselves as we work through challenges. Ultimately, we experience a deep sense of passion and purpose as we try to attain our highest potential in sport.
The Formation of Our “Athletic Armor”
Unfortunately, we also realize that in order to succeed in such a competitive world, we need to protect ourselves. So, we start to grow thick skin and a type of protective outer armor. Let’s use the analogy of a warrior in battle. The warrior wears beautiful armor and it helps her succeed in battle. Similarly, in sport, we develop a very shiny “athletic armor” to survive the competitive battlefield.
This protective covering comes in the form of the strong inner critic that believes that if I’m really hard on myself and judge myself relentlessly then no one else can make me feel any worse. We begin to strive for an imaginary icon of perfection that is either not attainable or not sustainable.
The armor thickens as we begin to put our trust in others to define what success looks like instead of listening to the deeper wisdom beneath the armor that truly knows what it means to succeed in this life. Because the outside world begins to define success, we soon start to do anything and everything we can to please others in hopes of achieving “success” and, ultimately, another person’s approval and praise.
Now, because the external definition of success oftentimes entails “nerves of steel”, “being tough”, “staying positive” and “pushing through pain”, a level of guilt can begin to grow if we feel anything other than this sort of brute mental strength. We can beat ourselves up when we experience overwhelming feelings such as fear, anxiety, sadness, and depression. To make matters worse, seeking help and sharing our feelings can be looked down upon as weakness, so we athletes may learn to internalize everything and function as though we have to figure it all out on our own. Asking for help feels like we are weak, and feeling weak is just not acceptable. So the armor thickens as we hold all of this within ourselves.
With time, these standards and the pressure to perform can begin to feel very heavy, and performance anxiety may ensue. Nothing ever feels like it’s good enough and this inner tension leads to fear around messing up or appearing anything less than a star to the outside world.
Eventually, an athlete’s entire identity can become the sport that we do, and we develop a “win at all costs” attitude which oftentimes means pushing through the body’s signals of pain and developing an overly critical eye towards our own bodies, sometimes leading to disordered eating and body image issues. We begin comparing to see how others look and act and how many accolades we are earning to determine whether or not we are a “worthy” human being. Because who we are as a human is now “the gymnast” or “the skier” or “the soccer player”, we may only feel fulfilled when we are the best at what we’re doing.
So, the armor thickens and thickens until the human being underneath the athletic armor can no longer be seen or felt.
When the Armor No Longer Serves
But what about when our athletic days are over?
What happens when we can no longer live out the only identity perhaps we’ve ever known and it’s time to “take the armor off”?
From my own experience and knowing the experience of many others, it can feel like you’re dying. You just survived, and maybe even thrived, within the world of sports, but now you don’t need the armor anymore and, at the same time, don’t really know how to live without it.
It can be utterly painful, confusing, lonely, empty, and deeply unsettling.
We start to see that this massive armor that we built up in an attempt to be the best and receive love and praise is uncomfortably heavy and wearing us down more and more with each passing day.
So, how do we shed this armor while also keeping the valuable life lessons of sport? We have to be aware that we’re carrying it, and that it is time to let it go. It’s an armor that served us well within the given battlefield, but it’s not necessary anymore. It allowed the person beneath the armor to become incredibly strong in every way, but if carried too long, can begin to break that human being that lies beneath it.
Shedding the Athletic Armor
It’s so important to not allow the judgment and self-criticism that has built up in the armor to take hold during this time. Learning to shed the armor, bit by bit, and reconnect with the self underneath in a compassionate and accepting way is what allows you to move forward with a healthier perspective. We may need social support during this time and possibly professional help because we may not know how to care for or be kind to ourselves.
The “shedding” of the armor may bring about a plethora of emotions. There may be an intense fear of change and uncertainty. Confusion may arise not knowing who we are now that we don’t have athletics. We may feel uncomfortable and even “lost” confronting our deep grief and personal loss.
Understand that these feelings are normal and that it is a process. Sometimes it’s a matter of weeks or months, and sometimes it’s years. It’s your process, and you will slowly release the armor in your own time. Trust this.
Emerging Stronger
Sports offer incredible life lessons and experiences. I loved so much of my life as a gymnast and miss it quite often even now being 17 years removed. However, it’s important to recognize that sometimes as dedicated athletes in an extremely competitive sports culture, we can begin to lose the core of who we are somewhere along the way.
Be assured, your athletic career has prepared you well for success in life. The key in moving forward in the next chapter of your life is shedding the unhelpful athletic armor and embracing the positive traits that sports have instilled in you.
Just as the story of the woman no longer able to shed her skin prevented her from rejuvenating, when we are unable to lose our armor, we can’t open to new life.
Nature sheds its old skin every moment of every day. In the snake that outgrows its old covering. In cells that die to make room for new ones. In the trees that lose their leaves in order to grow beautiful foliage in the spring.
So you too can trust that as you “shed your old skin”, there will be a fresh new protective covering emerging beneath.
Remember that the inner strength and wisdom that have developed over your years in sport will serve as a trustworthy foundation as you move into the next chapter of your life.
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Continue to explore ways to capitalize on the positive attributes you’ve learned in sports by reading more about Harnessing Your Competitive Edge for Life.
Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only. Neither Sidelined USA nor its affiliates provide clinical or medical care of any kind via their relationship with Sidelined. At no time should a user have an expectation of clinical care or professional services offered or rendered.