Competing at local competitions, she says, “felt like life or death.” And it didn’t help that her entire world was skating, so everyone around her fed off the same mentality of striving for perfection and never being satisfied. “That was our normal. Our coaches would pit us against each other, and at 10 years old, we were forced to have this competitiveness and comparison—it’s so toxic,” she says.
Glenn developed an eating disorder, and her anxiety worsened. She intuitively realized that she could not continue in such an unhealthy environment, but felt powerless to change. “I wouldn’t be able to skate,” she says. “I was miserable. I felt like I didn’t belong with the elite [skaters] but I also didn’t have the experience of being ‘normal’ either. A lot of my friends had gone off, started high school and were doing other things. And I was stuck here. I thought I wasn’t going anywhere and got into this severe depression where I didn’t want to keep living—I didn’t want to do anything.”
Glenn saw a psychiatrist who prescribed an antidepressant, but she didn’t have a good reaction to the medication. She wasn’t eating properly or sleeping well either, which further aggravated her fragile mental state. It was one of Glenn’s closest friends who realized her friend was drowning and spoke to Glenn’s parents.
“It did come as a shock to my parents,” Glenn says. “They thought it was just me stressing out over skating, when it was a lot more than that.” Even then Glenn was reluctant to admit that she needed help, since, she says, “growing up in Texas, there wasn’t mental health. It just wasn’t a thing. It was ‘Stop crying, get up, and do your job.’ It couldn’t be more different now. But in 2015, it wasn’t really thought of much.”