On Hard-earned Comebacks
Photo courtesy of the author.
Why the Paris Olympics will have a lasting impact on women like me.
With the lowering of the Olympic rings at the Stade de France, the passing of the Olympic flag to the City of Angels and a viral stunt from Tom Cruise, the Paris 2024 Olympics have officially come to an end. But the success women athletes had at the games this summer will inspire generations to come.
The world saw an Egyptian fencer compete while seven months pregnant and an archer from Azerbaijan describe feeling her baby kick moments before she hit a bullseye. The women of Team USA dominated, winning 67 of the 126 total medals awarded. Katie Ledecky became the most decorated U.S. female Olympic swimmer of all time, and following a nail-biting final game against France, the U.S. women’s basketball team won its eighth Olympic gold in a row.
Of all the incredible moments we witnessed, none will remain etched in my memory for years to come like the performances of the USA gymnastics team. My eyes welled with tears as I watched two gymnasts in particular, Simone Biles and Suni Lee, at the Artistic Individual All-Around final. Watching them standing tall on that podium and receiving their medals, I was overcome by a strange feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time watching sports: Hope.
Left to right: Silver medalist Rebeca Andrade of Brazil, gold medalist Simone Biles of Team USA and bronze medalist Sunisa Lee of Team USA pose on the podium during the artistic gymnastics women's individual all-around awards ceremony on day six of the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris, France. Photo by Rodolfo Buhrer/AGIF/Sipa USA/Alamy
I’ve never been a big Olympics fanatic like some of my friends are. Frankly, I’m not even much of a sports fan. Perhaps some of the emotion had to do with the fact that I watched the 2024 games in bed, a little delirious, days into COVID isolation, away from my husband and our 5-month-old daughter. Looking back, I think the moment touched me because I knew — we all did — what these women overcame to get here this time. Biles spent the last three years in therapy and at the gym picking herself back up after walking away from the competition floor in 2021 while she was at the presumed peak of her career. This year, Lee flipped and twisted her way to three medals while in remission from two kidney diseases.
Three years ago, I was also couch-bound, recovering from surgery, when I watched with the world as Simone got the “twisties” at the Tokyo Olympics and decided to withdraw from the competition. She’s described feeling like the world was going to hate her because of her decision. Watching Biles emerge from that hole and dominate in Paris makes me consider that, maybe, there is time for me to “come back” too. And, maybe, even stronger this time?
‘I thought stepping away from a career I loved would be the hardest part, but the real work had just begun.’
Most of us are not the G.O.A.T. in our field, nor do we understand the pressures of elite sports and fame at that level. Still, the experience of taking a step back for the sake of our health and fearing that others may judge us for it is something that I, and many women like me, can deeply relate to.
In 2022, I left my dream job as a correspondent on a national news network. I felt like I was letting myself and everyone around me down. Earlier that year, not long after watching Biles stumble in Tokyo, I thought I was at the peak of my career. At 27, I was doing what I always wanted to do and being recognized for it. I got airtime every day and reported headline stories in English and in Spanish about topics I’m passionate about, like immigration, climate change and reproductive rights. Having a big and important job felt like a gift, no matter how hard it was. As the daughter of immigrants, so much of my identity was and still is tied to making my parents’ sacrifices worthwhile. My mom was pregnant with me when my parents left Venezuela to start a new life in the U.S. By working so hard, I felt like I was making them proud. Any complaint I could have about my life at that point paled in comparison to how much my parents had struggled to give me access to a world of opportunities. Only months later would I realize they truly wished for nothing more than my health and happiness.
Isa Gutierrez reporting on the COVID-19 pandemic in New York City, 2021. Photo courtesy of author
At the end of 2021, I was featured on the Forbes’ 2022 30 Under 30 list, and felt on top of the world. Two months later, everything came crashing down. My husband was in an accident and I flew across the country to be by his side. He spent two weeks in the ICU and we learned that 12% of his body required skin grafts. I went on leave for the first time in my career and temporarily became his caregiver. As soon as things were stable, I rushed back to work. It wasn’t long before the stress of that experience, combined with years of living an unhealthy lifestyle and ignoring health issues, triggered an inflammatory GI condition. I was running to the bathroom between “live hits” and seeing blood multiple times a week. Nobody knew. Not even my husband. It became difficult for me to eat and gain weight, and I struggled mentally to juggle the exhausting, never-ending nature of working in breaking news. My body was failing me, and I was angry at it for not keeping up.
This wasn’t sustainable, and the decision I had to make about my job weighed heavily on me. When I finally decided to step away, I was incredibly fortunate to receive support from my colleagues and mentors. I know many women are not so lucky. Still, I asked myself every day: “Am I missing my chance?” “Am I breaking momentum?” “Does everyone hate me?” I’d be lying if I said I don’t still think like this sometimes, even now, after everything I went through.
Isa on assignment at Newark Airport, July 2022. Photo courtesy of the author
Isa at the hospital, August 2022. Photo courtesy of the author
I thought stepping away from a career I loved would be the hardest part, but the real work had just begun. Without the noise and distraction of the 24-hour news cycle, I was left alone with my thoughts. It was a scary place. Intense anxiety overcame me, and I fixated on the things that “went wrong” during the year leading up to my departure. My husband’s accident, my physical decline, and difficult stories I reported on — it all replayed over and over in my head. I couldn’t shut it off. I felt like a boiling kettle about to burst with little capacity to do simple tasks or have basic conversations without feeling overwhelmed.
Today, I know that I wasn’t alone. An annual study by Deloitte surveyed five thousand women in workplaces across ten countries and found that roughly half of women were “concerned” or “very concerned” about their mental health. Mental health was a top three concern for women globally, only behind financial security and women’s rights. Last year, according to the study, more women left their employers than in the two previous years combined.
‘I prided myself for toughing out hard situations and was scared, especially as a Latina, that my vulnerability would be perceived as weakness.’
It wasn’t until I sought out consistent therapy that things started to turn around for me. Having a safe space to process everything that had happened was immensely helpful and something I now passionately believe should be more accessible. I also discovered new hobbies for the first time in over a decade. Learning ceramics reignited my curiosity and put me back in a social setting. Cooking and exercising were a release that also brought me joy. I re-evaluated my priorities and was motivated to heal so that I could eventually achieve my greatest dream: starting a family.
Nearly two years after leaving my job, I’m a new mom to a beautiful baby girl. I’m preparing to go back to school part-time, and learning how to balance family life and things that are just for me. I’ve learned to say “no,” to take deep breaths when the world starts spinning, and to spend more time outside. The thought of going back to my career, whatever it will look like in its next iteration, feels daunting. It’s also never felt more hopeful or promising. I had the privilege to take time and heal. I’m prepared to take on new and even greater challenges. What I’ve gone through, and being a mom, gives me perspective.
Isa with her daughter and dog, March 2024. Photo courtesy of the author
I recently watched JD Vance’s resurfaced comments on Fox News criticizing the praise Biles got for stepping off the mat in Tokyo: “We’ve tried to turn a very tragic moment, Simone Biles quitting the Olympic team, into this act of heroism,” he said. I’ll admit that in 2021, I too failed to see Biles as a hero for walking away from the team. In my own life, I prided myself for toughing out hard situations and was scared, especially as a Latina, that my vulnerability would be perceived as weakness. But it turns out quitting and rebuilding in the aftermath were two of the hardest things I've ever done. It’s taken more grit and hard work than any job has. “I think it reflects pretty poorly on our sort of therapeutic society that we try to praise people, not for moments of strength, not for moments of heroism, but for their weakest moments,” said the now-vice presidential candidate in 2021, when he was running for the U.S. Senate. I wanted to shout at the screen, “As we should!” At that moment, Biles was a hero to me.
I will never forget the way the women athletes showed up at the 2024 Paris Olympics. As I watch the games with my daughter someday in the future, I’ll tell her about Biles and Lee, and how they stepped away to take care of themselves at what was seemingly the “worst” time to do so. I’ll tell her about seeing Biles meditate on the sidelines and how it gave me hope that I, too, could still achieve “great” things. But, most importantly, I’ll tell her that greatness isn’t measured by medals or praise from others. To truly win is to find that praise within you.
Isa Gutierrez is an Emmy-nominated and “Forbes 30 Under 30” journalist with a passion for telling stories that have an impact on women, youth and immigrant communities. A proud Venezuelan American, Isa was the youngest national correspondent ever to report on NBC News and Noticias Telemundo. Her award-winning work as a reporter and producer has appeared on NBC News, NBCLX, WVIT, Dateline NBC and TODAY. She earned a B.Sc. in journalism with a minor in Latino studies from Northwestern University and is pursuing an Executive Master’s in marketing and strategic communications at New York University. She lives in New York City with her husband and their daughter. @isagutierreztv
Virginia Lora is an independent audio producer, reporter and editor who works in English and Spanish and dabbles in French. Born in Peru, she moved to the U.S. at age 13 and grew up in Miami. Her interest in stories that center the margins stems in large part from her early-career experiences interviewing people in communities all over the country for an oral history project, as well as from her own immigration experience. She earned a B.A. in history, French and a certificate in Latin American and Latino studies from Amherst College and trained in narrative audio at the Transom Story Workshop. @VirginiaLoraC