Life After Competing: Letting Go, Coming Back, and Finally Finding Myself Beyond the Stage
I’ve hung up my suits more times than I can count.
And I’ve taken them back out again just as many times.
Competing gets into your bones — the routine, the structure, the chase for precision. But what kept me in the cycle wasn’t just discipline or love for the sport.
It was the carrot that always dangled in front of me.
One more show.
One more season.
One more title.
One more chance to prove something.
One more shot to feel “done.”
That “one more” mentality kept me tied to the stage long after I knew the sport was taking more than it was giving. And the truth is, the hardest part wasn’t the prep — it was everything that came after.
My last contest in 2016 the IFBB North Americans
The Rebounds That Broke Me Open
I had multiple post-contest rebounds. Not tiny fluctuations — full emotional and physical rebounds that left me feeling out of control.
The kind where hunger roars, your weight skyrockets, your hormones flatline, and your mindset spirals.
Every rebound came with the same fear:
What if this time I can’t stop it?
What if without another show date I never regain control?
What if prep is the only thing that keeps me safe from myself?
That fear alone was enough to push me right back into the next prep.
And of course — the carrot dangled:
Use the next show to redeem this.
Use the next show to get it together.
Use the next show to fix the rebound.
I wasn’t chasing the stage.
I was running from the rebound.
The Pressure to Compete for “Relevancy”
And here’s the part most people outside the industry don’t see:
There is massive pressure on coaches to keep competing.
Even when no one says it out loud, the message hangs in the air:
Coaches get more clients when they’re on stage.
Being stage lean makes you look “credible.”
Prepping keeps you “relevant.”
Your career benefits when you’re in the spotlight.
If you stop competing, people assume you’re slipping.
It’s subtle, but it’s everywhere.
And because I loved my clients and cared about being respected in the industry, that pressure weighed on me more than I ever admitted.
Sometimes I wasn’t doing “one more show” for me —
I was doing it because it felt like part of the job.
Like if I stepped away, I’d be forgotten.
Like if I gained weight, I’d lose my authority.
Like if I rested, I’d fall behind.
That pressure kept me in the game long after my body was asking for a different path.
Losing My Identity Was the Hardest Part
When I did finally try to step away, I wasn’t prepared for the silence.
No check-ins.
No deadlines.
No plan.
No show date.
No competitor identity to fall back on.
I didn’t know who I was without the discipline.
Without the structure.
Without the external validation.
Without the titles.
Without the athlete persona.
Competing had become the place I ran to whenever life felt uncertain — which meant that stepping away forced me to finally face the uncertainty head-on.
The Hormonal Crash + The Mental Unraveling
No one talks enough about how intense post-show physiology is:
dysregulated hunger
suppressed thyroid
low sex hormones
sky-high cortisol
fatigue that hits like a truck
mood swings
water retention
digestive chaos
Even understanding it scientifically didn’t save me from living it.
Your body doesn’t care about your titles.
It cares about survival.
And when the structure of prep ends?
Your hormones and nervous system have to rebuild themselves from the ground up.
The Extremes Stayed in My Head Long After I Walked Away
Even after I stopped competing, my mindset didn’t magically reset.
I still panicked over weight gain.
I still judged myself for eating without rules.
I still feared rest days.
I still compared myself to my leanest stage photos.
I still believed I needed a plan to be “safe.”
It took time to realize something important:
My body had stepped away from competing —
but my mind was still backstage waiting for callouts.
Finally Finding Balance — and Myself
Rebuilding life after the stage wasn’t graceful or linear.
I had to learn how to:
trust myself without the show date
eat without tracking
train without punishing
respect my hormones
let my body find its natural rhythm
feel strong in softness
build an identity bigger than shredded glutes
exist without needing extremes
I didn’t lose the competitor inside me —
I just learned she isn’t the whole story.
I stopped living for the carrot.
I stopped chasing the next title.
I stopped believing that my value depended on a sport built on extremes.
And for the first time, I felt free.
If You’re in This Transition Too… You’re Not Alone
If you’re afraid of life after competing…
If you fear the rebound…
If you worry you’ll lose control…
If you feel pressure to stay relevant…
If you’re clinging to the idea of “one more show”…
Please hear this:
You’re not weak.
You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re detoxing from an extreme identity that shaped your entire world.
You’re learning who you are without the tan, the lights, the diet, the deadlines, the pressure, or the expectations.
You’re finally coming home to yourself.
And that is the real transformation.
