"Faster! The flip has to turn over faster if you'll ever want to actually land the double. Your set needs to suspend longer! Honestly, I don't think you'll be able to pull it off by season."

Gymnastics is an aerialist, artistic performance within an insane, athletic event mixed with a dash of technical physics. It requires a serious commitment and a ferocious level of intensity. I knew none of this eleven years ago. Look at me now, newly eighteen years old and still here. Here in this stuffy gym, sweating bullets and inhaling chalk.

The air conditioner broke 2 weeks ago and opening the doors just adds to the thick heat of September. I've been running this same vault for the past hour and it has not gotten any better in my coach's eyes.

Yes, I should be getting all the corrections needed, but the senior year just started and I am exhausted with my workload and the added criticism and lack of actual help from my coaches are becoming a major issue.

"Is this what I really want?" I ask myself. "Am I really missing out on actually living life?"

These questions have been on my mind for what seems like forever now. This sport has been my life for so long, and I loved it from the moment I stepped through the big, glass doors at the entrance of the gym. I grew up within these four, massive, steel walls. The people here saw me more than my actual family.

I did not think I was ready to walk away from it all and move on. For so long, I struggled with the thought of watching all my hard work and passion fade away. Was it really worth it if I began to dread every practice? It could not be a healthy situation.

"I need some water!" I yelled down the runway to my coach.

She honestly probably did not care. Being as old as I was signified that my gymnastics career was coming to an end and rather quickly since I had no desire to take my talents to the collegiate level. Most of the coaches in my home gym had begun to treat me as a lost cause in the competitive field.

What was the point of busting my ass for someone who could not care less if I succeeded or if I failed?

Gymnastics was not even my biggest drive anymore; dance was. I had found something that brought me joy; why could I not walk away from this monstrosity of a stressor? It was not that I hated the sport of gymnastics; I honestly still love it.

At that moment, I knew I had to taste something else from this life I was given. Something was missing, but I had no idea what or where it was. Thoughts whirling through my already too occupied mind kept building until I called it.

Sitting on the couch with my mom, I sobbed as if a loved one had died. My mom, who also grew up a gymnast, had been watching me struggle for months and was heavily encouraging the ending of this chapter for better days.

"What the hell is wrong with me?! Why can't I make this decision? What if I fail at everything else? If I walk away now, will it all be a waste? All the time, all the money, all the injuries, and all the mental scarring…all for absolutely nothing?"

All I had was gymnastics. For eleven years, I had always turned down friends, boyfriends, traveling, and social life. Waking up early to workout, going to school, going to track, and right after heading to gym practice for four hours and dance for two; a repetitive schedule that was excessive to others but normal to me.

Life in the confines of the gym was all I knew and for my entire life, I liked it that way. Sure, I danced and I was on the track team, but gymnastics had given me a name.

This was how I was thought of, as the girl who could walk on her hands and do a backflip on command. I had no idea who I was without it. There was no possible way that anyone else could tell me what or who I was if I could not even do it myself. I took a break from practice for an entire week that seemed to last a year.

An identity crisis at its finest at the ripe, young age of eighteen. As if I was not already overstimulated with graduation, choosing a future school, and moving out of the house by May in order to work in Tennessee all summer.

As the week progressed, I forced myself to try living a normal, teenage life by hanging out with friends and going to school athletic events that I was not competing in. This was all fine and good; life was being enjoyed. However, the guilt began to take over as I felt myself slowly letting go of my life as a gymnast.

A sense of betrayal, turning my back on all the people who had watched me grow for so long. The only stress that lingered in my world at the time was the gym. It was time.

Emails were sent to my head coach and the owner of the gym to schedule a meeting for the coming Friday. Each day passed as I prepared myself for what I would tell them and how I would tell all the younger girls in the gym. It was quite possibly the hardest speech I had ever had to write. I did not know what to tell them exactly. Quitting is not something I had ever done, so I looked at this as retirement.

The alarm went off Friday morning for me to run to a morning workout and then try my best to focus on school. The school day seemed to speed by faster than an Indy car. I drove the slowest I legally could to the gym. Pulling into the parking lot, tears were already flowing so I had to take a moment in my car to compose myself. I opened the big, glass doors to the gym and walked straight to the back to find my coach.

"What's up Ky? Been sick all week?"

I didn't know how to start this perfectly planned conversation. Everything I had rehearsed was straight out the window.

"Actually, no. I've just had a lot on my mind with all of the senior stress…ya know?"

She looked at me in an understanding way, but I definitely knew she could tell where I was going with this. It stayed silent for what seemed like ages until I attempted to do what I came here to do. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Everything in me screamed to shut it down and just finish the year. I knew that I could not feel this much stress anymore. We locked eyes and I started to silently sob. She pulled me into a caring hug and tried to calm me down and let me know that it was okay to move on.

After what seemed like an hour of crying, she told me that I had to tell the rest of the gym the following morning during Saturday practice. As much as I knew I had to tell them myself, I really did not want to upset them. They were all like my little sisters, and I knew that they looked up to me and always wanted to make me proud. How could I let them down?

The Saturday morning alarm started to blare and I just laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling, and dreading the coming hours. I drove up to the gym, once again, and waited in my car until I could breathe at a normal pace. Upon walking in, all the girls screamed and ran over to ask where I had been, if I was okay, and why was I not in a leotard for practice.

Coach called them back to the beam area so they could get back to work as I sat at the front desk waiting for them to be done with their workout so I could break the news. As the hours ticked by, the owner called me over and pulled me into a hug.

"We'll always be here for you, and you'll always be welcome here" she whispered to me.

I gave her a soft smile and prepared to face the young team. They all sat around me with wide eyes. Once again, I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. A small tear started to form in my eye and I quickly wiped it away.

"Alright ladies,…sorry I… haven't been here all week. Been pretty busy with school…and…um… figuring some stuff out. I'll always love gymnastics, but…"

That was it. That was all I could handle before my coach jumped in to help me out.

"Kylie has made the decision to move on and retire for the time being."

Immediately I was tackled by hugs and tears and support. I promised them I would come and visit and that they could always contact me if needed. That seemed to make some of them feel a little better, but there was definitely a sadness that hung in the air.

As I drove home, I had regrets and even considered turning around to tell them I was kidding. I couldn't. This was what was best for me. It was time to let it go and pursue a bigger dream and allow life to change around me. Maybe this way I could enjoy it.