Source: Mike Blake/Reuters
Dear Simone,
You’ve given us so much. Standing 4’8” as I do, you remind me: Small can be powerful! We’re all stunned by your mid-air and mat grace, beauty, and strength. And as a therapist, a lifelong supporter of others, I’m grateful for even more. Here are just a few of your brilliant gifts:
You’ve reminded us that our bodies and minds are intimately connected. After 2021, you said you “never thought I’d step foot on the gymnastics floor again.” The twisties, bound up with your anxiety, made you question yourself in mid-air, a dangerous—not to mention terrifying—feeling. But mental health is largely considered separate from physical health in our culture, so you taught us how false that is. Emotional disorders such as anxiety can make our bodies sick, and physical illness can make us anxious, depressed, or worse. Our minds and bodies are designed to work in sync. We need to train both to stay in shape, period.
You’re just a person, yes. (But thanks for being our shero!) In Paris, after becoming the greatest gymnast of all time (#GOAT), you quipped, “It’s crazy that I am in the conversation of greatest of all athletes. Because I just still think I’m Simone Biles from Spring, Texas, that loves to flip.” Yes, you are the girl that loves to flip. A person like the rest of us—“We’re human too,” you insist.
And there will always be those better at what we do (okay, I mean for most of us, Simone, not you!) and those not as good. Pursuit of perfection can be a scourge, not the goal. The goal is loving to flip (or whatever it is we are here to do). We are all, in our own way, our own life, just a person and, hopefully, the best of that person much of the time. Maharaj Nisargadatta said, “Wisdom is knowing I am nothing. Love is knowing I am everything. And between the two, my life moves.” Thank you for embodying this truth and giving the lie to misguided search for perfection. You are amazing and still you: “I’ve always tried to stay authentic to myself…. I’m a little bit older, more mature, just… unapologetically, me.”
You exemplify the value of one day at a time. And it takes time. And work. You didn’t just get back up after Tokyo. You worked super hard on anxiety and mental health. For years. “Getting over those demons,” you explained, “there were so many days I would come back to the gym, and it was like one step forward, five steps back, one step forward, five steps back. The amount of times that I walked out because I would just get lost, or the amount of times I sat there and I would just cry…”.
There are no quick fixes, so you used all the tools. You saw your therapist (thank you, therapist!). You didn’t stop when you felt better, because therapy can be even more effective when you’re well; not in crisis. You checked in with yourself every day in Paris, knowing each day can be different. You had therapy every morning if you needed it. You take Lexapro, an antidepressant, anti-anxiety medication. “If you need an inhaler, take it,” you insist. “If you have anxiety, take it [med]. I’m no stranger to medicine.” You’ve used a worry journal, breathing exercises, visualizations, affirmations.
You’ve spoken out about trauma and anxiety; the toxicity of hiding painful emotional wounds. Bad secrets only make us sicker. You normalize mental health, modeling taking care of yourself as a strength, not a weakness. It’s a practice. You came back, wanted to come back, could come back, because you live the mind-body work. And because of it, you “feel a lot more free… physically and mentally,” you affirm. “I know that [mental health is] an important part of my routine. So just staying on top of that, it lightens the load.”
You choose those around you. You brought a cadre of nearly 20 family and friends to Paris. You know who’s got you. You’re close to family, you know true friends. Being the world’s darling can be so destabilizing, especially on social media. You’ve taken so many mean, nasty, hits as a lightning rod for people’s worst impulses (and they get away with it online, saying horrible things they’d never have guts to say in person). “They hurt,” you admit, regarding hateful posts. But again, you do the work. On priorities, on who to surround yourself with, on who and what is true. The rest? The detractors? It’s all about them, not you. You know this. You let it go.
You demonstrate that unexpected detours can make us better. You didn’t know whether you would ever come back. But you came back, you came back much stronger. “After all these years of putting the mental work in, it’s paid off,” you affirm. Mistakes or failures are supposedly signs of weakness, but you’ve taught us how wrong that is. It’s not the mistakes or failures that define us. It’s what we transform them into. And you, literally, turned your life’s worst moments into pure gold.
Thank you, Simone. For every bit of it. And especially for taking care, emotionally and physically, so we might, too.
Source: Carol Brehman/EPA