Closure

Keith,

If I’m not the last person you expected to hear from, I’m probably the last person that you want to hear from. I’ve written and rewritten this message dozens of times over the past year. It’s easier to be brave when I’m crafting a message or when I’m organizing my thoughts to craft it. Whenever I finish, I invariably have a panic attack and delete instead of send. Until now.

As much as I’ve meditated on reaching out to you, on what I’d say (or write), my brain feels as muddled as it did whenever I hunted and pecked the words in the very first rough draft. That’s appropriate, though. “Muddled” is the most apt description of what my brain has been ever since that night.

There are so many things I want to express to you, that I NEED to express to you. There are questions I want to ask. But, I’ll resist those urges in this message. I don’t know that me reaching out to you like this is welcome. If it’s not, then the embarrassment would be exponentially worse for me to pour myself out, only to be rejected or ignored. So, I guess this is me asking your permission to follow up with a longer, more personal message.

If your answer is “no” for whatever reason – or if you prefer not to respond at all – I understand. I have no right to have any expectations otherwise.

Respectfully,

Meredith

      Meredith,

           Wow! You are definitely the most surprising sender of any message I could find in my inbox, but it’s not unwelcome. Permission granted to convey whatever you need.  As long as we’re opening a dialogue where we both can be – and will be – transparent and honest, and nobody is getting defensive or angry, I’m here for it.

           In the interest of full disclosure, I scrolled through your pictures. You look like you’re still drinking from the fountain of youth.

           Keith

      Keith,

           Wow. You wrote back. And quickly. I’ve been preparing myself that you’d ignore me completely, or you’d throw some choice profanities at me and then block me. Prompt and cordial weren’t among the possibilities I was expecting. Thank you. And, thank you for the kind words, even if you might need to get your vision checked. And, if I don’t stop stalling then I’ll come up with a thousand more reasons to thank you. So . . .

           I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way we ended. I’m sorry for how badly I treated you in so many ways. I’m sorry that other people treated you badly on my behalf, and that I wasn’t smart or brave enough to stop them. You were the first person to ever tell me the truth even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I didn’t handle that well, nor did my circle. The past six years have been a slow, sure, and reoccurring trip to “Keith Was Right” Island.

           Saying “I’m sorry” is wholly insufficient, but right now it’s the best I can do. I’m far from finished, but I’ll leave it at this for now.

           Meredith

    Meredith, 

           You’re not the only one feeling compelled to apologize. You deserve one from me. I’ve always prided myself on speaking the truth – and speaking it fully – no matter what. I’ve probably been too proud of that trait on too many occasions. I’m as convinced today as I was back then that my words were the absolute truth. The motivation behind my words was pure, but the way I expressed those words was motivated by a lot of selfishness. I was hurt and angry. I felt like everyone else was getting angry at me for daring to take the position that I did, and eventually we were all lashing out or retaliating at each other. I was most affected by what I interpreted as blatant willful ignorance; people were more intent on silencing me than rebutting my contentions. Nobody even wanted to ask me, “why?” It was easier to keep the truth unspoken, no matter how obvious it might have been (or at least should have been).

           All of that led me to speak some additional words that were unnecessary and unhelpful, to you and others around you. I said a lot of things spitefully, even maliciously. I questioned peoples’ intentions and made serious accusations, some of which was valid but some was not. Along the way, it became more about winning an argument than about your best interest. For every time I hurled any of what I’m describing at you, I’m sorry and I hope you can forgive me.

           Your apology is accepted. Thank you.

           Keith

      Keith,

           Your apology is also accepted, and you were forgiven a long time ago. In the heat of the moment, I was offended and hurt on multiple occasions. As life has unfolded, though, I’ve realized more and more that I was directing my anger toward the one person who least deserved it. If I had been in your shoes, I’d have responded with much less grace than you did. So, it’s not even that you’ve been forgiven, but that in my mind I have retroactively rescinded whatever hurt I felt back then. Because you were right.

           You make a heavy point. I see it clearly now even if I was blind back then. I’m scared of what you might share, but if you deserve nothing else then you deserve to respond to this: why?

           Meredith

      Meredith,

           In a million years, you being my girlfriend would still have been too wild of a fantasy. An Olympic gold medal gymnast. One of America’s darlings. You shined on the biggest stage; you dominated your rivals on their own turf. A cover model and spokeswoman. The entire red-blooded male world had a crush on you. I thought a summer gig as a beach lifeguard on the Outer Banks was an awesome way to spend my last college summer while working on a perfect tan and earning big dollars. Of all the beaches in the world, your family had moved to that one. Of all the guys in the world, I got to be – for a while – the one. Nobody would believe that if I wrote it into a novella. I was on cloud 900.

           As to why . . .  

           The first time around, the Olympics had been your sole focus for almost a decade. From the moment your parents and coaches realized you were special as a kid, they were already looking years ahead to those two weeks that July. The money spent and sacrifices made, the training, the regimen, the diet, it all pointed to those gold medals being draped around your neck. All of that was a full-time endeavor with no days off for almost a decade. When you decided to run it back, you hadn’t competed in two years. That wasn’t insignificant. To me, the risk of serious injury was real and not worth the potential reward. Gymnastics is not kind to female bodies. The wear and tear on wrists and shoulders, the constant pounding on ankles and knees, the repeated falls on backs and necks, it takes a toll. The body is a lot more flexible and resilient (and lighter) when it’s 14 than when it’s 24. At the risk of sounding misogynistic, God designed women to be mothers, not to be elite gymnasts forever. How much glory today is worth the price to be paid down the road when chronic pain and limited mobility are the norm?

           I’m not the only person who recognized those risks. Everybody around you knew they were real. They just preferred to keep them silent, like the emperor with no clothes or the elephant in the room. That was the aspect that infuriated me beyond all others. The people who are supposed to care about you the most not only had no hesitation in encouraging you to put your body at risk, they shouted down the lone voice with a different opinion.

           I can understand why you and the others might have felt compelled to try again, because your identity was probably so wrapped up in being an elite gymnast and you weren’t given he appropriate assistance in transitioning away from that. But, what did everyone else have to gain? Was their identity wrapped up in being the parent or sibling or aunt or uncle or cousin or friend of an Olympic medalist?

           Your first Olympics was a perfect fairy tale. That was the culmination of everything you’d ever worked for in your sport. In your life. Nothing was ever going to top that. Even without the things I’ve already mentioned, the second Olympics never would have lived up to the first. I felt like you were desperately trying to hold on to some of that glory by recreating it, and that those efforts were doomed for no positive end.

           All of that made me angry because I took it personally. Why wasn’t one fairy tale Olympics enough? Why wasn’t I enough? Why couldn’t you be content to move on into the next season of your life, instead of leaving me to go train in Texas around-the-clock? I was hurt, and I reacted out of that hurt. I said too many things that hurt you and others. Even if I was speaking the truth, I wasn’t speaking it in love.

           But . . . now you know why. And, thank you for asking.

           Feel free to speak freely in your response. I promise I will not be offended, no matter how indicting it might be.

           Keith

    Keith

           I have no indictment to return. Everything you wrote hit the bullseye, and especially the identity part. For eight years, I never needed to have an independent thought. My entire life was predetermined, I did what I was told, when I was told and where I was told. The first year after that was a whirlwind, a parade of public appearances and interviews and photoshoots. Then, we moved to Manteo and I met you, and that was a phenomenal year.

           There was no good reason for me to even think I could compete at that level of gymnastics again, never mind if I should or not. I let people convince me of both. Were they living vicariously through me? Were they leeches and I didn’t realize it? Were they misguided but doing what they thought was best? Probably some of all of it.

           You’re right, it wasn’t the same. The first time around, we’d all come up through the ranks together. We knew two years before that the team of six was going to come from a pool of nine or ten of us. Everybody knew that. The second time around, we were the outsiders. We had been gone for two years, so we didn’t have bonds with the younger girls. They saw us as ungrateful bitches who were trying to steal the opportunity they’d been working for in the same way we’d worked the first time. Among my many regrets, a large one is the detrimental effect we had on that team’s chemistry. It was one thing for me to fail individually. We also handicapped the girls who did make it. There was so much drama and tension, so many distractions, they couldn’t enjoy their Olympics like we did.

           The trials were the most embarrassing episode of my life. I felt like so many people saw me as a has-been diva who was getting what she deserved, when they had no idea how my massive insecurities had led me there. The biggest irony is that some of those people who opposed you were not only embarrassed, they were offended. When I needed their support the most, they were mad that I’d let them down. Some of those relationships still haven’t been fully restored.

           It’s easy to say that I wish I’d have talked with you about it back then, I wish I’d have asked you ‘why?’ when it mattered. Truthfully, it probably still wouldn’t have changed the decision. I can blame the immense pressure being put on me, but I still had some warped psychological need. I don’t think I had adjusted to ‘freedom.’ I felt guilty sleeping late or ordering dessert, I always thought I should have been asking permission to go pee. Going back, as dysfunctional as it was, placated my codependent tendencies.

           I figure that the whole experience set me back four years or more: the two years I lost between returning and not making the Olympics, and then the two years (at least) it took me to reasonably function on my own. I’m very ashamed of myself about those truths, but they’re truths.

           I’ll bring this message to a close. I’ve given you enough to hammer me on as it is.

           Meredith

     Meredith,

           It’s not my place to hammer you. Even if it was, I don’t have the desire or the justification for that. My biggest problem is myself.

           If anything, maybe I should be offering more apologies. I’m sorry that I didn’t see how you were struggling to adapt to ‘normal’ life. I’m sorry I never tried to see things from your perspective.

           Meredith, nobody can take anything away from you. You will always be an Olympic champion. You didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Your accomplishments didn’t need to be validated. Even if you hadn’t been an elite world-class athlete, who you were was enough. You are enough now. Nobody can make you feel that for yourself, but I wish I could.

           Keith

      Keith,

           Thank you.

           I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that I was enough. It wasn’t enough until I made the Olympic team. Then it wasn’t enough until I was an Olympic champion. I remember waking up the next day after the medal ceremony and thinking, “That was it?” Somehow, I thought the euphoria would last so much longer. All of the years of blood and sweat and tears for were rewarded gloriously but briefly. Then hen it was over like some giant emotional sugar crash. I didn’t feel like enough again.

           I’m more terrified to ask this next question than I was to write you in the first place. Would you be interested in coming to Manteo sometime? Or, maybe I could meet you halfway, Tarboro or Williamston or wherever. This exchange feels so much more comfortable than I expected it would. I would love to be able to look into your eyes and talk instead of just typing. I want you to hear me say “I’m sorry” instead of just reading those words.

           You might not want to do that, and I’m not offended if that’s the case, Again, I have no expectations.

Meredith

   Meredith,

           I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to meet in person, at least not right now. I’m dating someone, we’re not “public” yet because of the nature of her job. She is aware that you and I were a couple, and she knows the circumstances of why we broke up. Any ex-girlfriend would be a potential stumbling block. The fact that YOU are the ex-girlfriend magnifies that potential by a million. It wouldn’t be fair to her. And – full disclosure – it wouldn’t be fair to me. My feelings for you didn’t go away just because our status as a couple did. It took me a long time to get over you. I don’t know how I’ll react whenever I’m in your presence again. For now, the reasons not to do that outweigh the reasons to do it.

           Your apology is just as valid typed as it is spoken. You apologized and I accepted. Now you need to accept my acceptance.

           Keith

    Keith,

           I’m not surprised that you’re dating someone, even if I hoped you weren’t. If you weren’t, I still don’t presume that I’d just waltz back into your life with an “I’m sorry” and pick up where we left off. I promise, that was not my intention in reaching out to you.

           I appreciate your willingness to have this exchange with me. I do not deserve this graciousness from you, but I needed it mightily. Thank you. And, I accept your acceptance.

           I would never want to be a hindrance in your life. I can crawl back under the rock from whence I came so that I won’t cause any problems for you, in your relationship or otherwise. She’s a lucky girl.

           Meredith

    Meredith,

           This has been good for me too.

           I am not asking you to crawl back under a rock. I can’t meet with you in person, not right now. I can’t communicate with you like this on a daily basis. I can’t become your confidante.

           I can be your friend. We shouldn’t communicate every day. But, we don’t have to reserve our contact for just Christmas and birthday greetings. Somewhere between those two extremes is a happy and appropriate medium. I’m willing to find it if you are. If that’s not a palatable option for you, I also understand.

           Keith

    Keith,

That is more than a palatable option to me. In fact, I’ll start steering toward that happy medium right now. I’m going to tie a bow around this round of messages and stop interrupting your day. I’ll reserve the right to check in on you sometime, and I extend the invitation to you to do the same in return. But, only when you feel comfortable.

Have a great rest of the day, and thank you again.

Meredith

    Meredith,

           I’m going to take you up on that invitation, I promise. I hope the rest of your week goes smoothly. And, sincerely, I thank you too.

           Keith