Bend and Conquer

"The balance beam won't forget that you've fallen off at least ten times for today, and neither will I." His harsh tone and stare made me feel small. But I sucked it up. I had to.

"Now again, watch your timing, and keep your back and knees straight."

I was born to do this. All the way in, laser focused. There was no more room for error and I was painfully aware. Olympic trials were less than a month away. This was my chance. I had a real shot at making the international women's gymnastics team.

I've been competing my entire life. Well, since I was six. I'm 16 now so I guess it counts. Growing up I always knew that I had to be good at something. I was never going to be the prettiest or even the smartest. Those special titles went to my sister Lauren. Soft, brunette and lengthy, she had it all. Didn't even have to try. I accepted that and so did my parents. Dad loved it because it was something we could bond over.

"Chelsea, you have a warrior's spirit," he'd always say. Translation: I was born for the athletics.

He was the former star quarterback of his college football team. Almost went pro. But then mom got pregnant with Lauren and that changed everything. I feel he's living vicariously through me and my dreams. He's my number one fan. For my 10th birthday, instead of getting me a bicycle or some sort of girlie makeup set, he hired a new coach because he was convinced the old one was cramping my style.

I remember the first time I met Igor Petrov. Dad brought him to my birthday party. He was tall and lean, a former men's gymnast himself. Dad thought he was perfect of course. I, however, wasn't sold.

"Show me a cartwheel."

I looked up at Igor in disbelief of what he was asking of me. By this time it was just dad and I in the backyard while everyone else was inside eating up all of the candies and snacks that mom gleefully prepared. I was insulted that the first thing he wanted me to display in the way of skill was the most basic of them all. But hey, I did it anyway. Surprisingly, he was impressed.

It wasn't long before I became a fearless competitor. It was thanks to Igor. He molded me into a champion. I was on fire. As the years went by, Igor remained as my coach. One of the main constants in my life. By the time I was 14, mom and dad had gotten a divorce. Gone were the days of family dinners and vacations. My father was no longer as present as he was once was for my gymnastics career. That really hurt. I felt all of these changes happening around me and it sucked.

"Wow, I can't believe that you haven't done it yet, you have the body that every boy wants."

This was my best friend Trisha. When the world was crumbling around me she had my back. Only she could get away with informing me of how womanly my figure had become, and how I should be taking advantage of it. Right in the thick of puberty, I was 16 and very much still developing. I had a very athletic figure with the curves to boot. All the boys at school definitely noticed.

One day after practice I decided to take the long route home because of the weather. The greater distance made me enjoy the simplicity of walking. Just 20 minutes away from home, I made the decision to cut through a deserted grassy field. It was there that I encountered one of the scariest encounters of my life.

A group of five girls of whom I recognized from school were sitting on the ground smoking pot before catching site of me. I walked passed them and smiled lightly. Didn't want to interrupt their smoking session. Wasn't about that life.

"Hey, you can't say hi?" "Pretty sure we go to the same school." "Or wait, you're just too good for us now."

I didn't want any trouble. But it sure felt like they did. A few of those girls in that group didn't like me. Some might even say they were jealous. I don't even remember what it was that I said, because before I knew it, they had pushed me to the ground. They were tugging at my hair, kicking, hitting me with my backpack. It was horrible. Somehow I managed to get away. There were bruises and I was bleeding. Nearby was Igor's gymnastics studio. I had a key like the rest of the girls on my team. Igor said it was a secret space for whenever any of use felt the need to escape into our own world. I sure needed that. Definitely not as big as the main gym but still served it's purpose for athletics.

I ran into the washroom and helped myself to the first aid kit. I looked at myself in the mirror and I thought, how could this happen? To me, of all people. I'm supposed to be a fearless warrior. Strong. I felt powerless and weak. But it wouldn't be the first time that I'd felt this way. I heard voices. It was Igor and Samantha. A fellow member of my gymnastics team.

"You are such a beautiful girl." "Maintain that figure, otherwise you'll end up looking like Chelsea." "That's the last thing you want, right?"

Igor's words stung more than the fresh wounds on my body. I got the gist of it. He didn't care for me. I was worthless in his eyes. All I wanted to do was just curl up in a ball and disappear. He made me feel small again. He was really good at that. I slipped out of the back door of the studio to finally make my way home. With my hoodie covering my hurt upper body, I didn't want to be seen by anyone. Luckily mom and Lauren weren't home.

I was alone and I liked it that way. I opened up the fridge and there I spotted a freshly baked chocolate cake. I brought the whole thing out to the table where I cut myself a slice. It was delicious. Cold but still very good. I decided to dig into the entire cake with my fork. I didn't care. Why should I care anymore?

I cried with each bite. I kept getting flashbacks of the things I kept inside for so long.

"I gave into everything, it's my fault." I cried and I cried. Uncontrollably sobbing over this chocolate cake that was so opposite to my need for control. I liked that I had no control over my continued eating of this baked good. I needed it. I couldn't stop.

"What good is control anyway, when I couldn't stop him." All these years I allowed him to hurt me and I didn't tell anyone. I knew I hated him. I didn't stop what I thought I could control.

It was over for me.