In 2014 my younger sister Kirsten passed away. It was a hard time for me and my family, so I left diving for about a month, just to be with my family.
It wasn't difficult to turn my back on diving at that time. I wasn't really thinking about anything other than being with my family. We were just trying to be there for each other and help each other move past her passing; not necessarily get through it -- because you never really get through it -- but just being there for each other when we needed it.
It was hard even thinking about ever doing anything again; life isn't the same. It feels like time stops and a part of you doesn't want to keep moving forward and you don't want to do anything. How can you do anything without that person there, when they've been there your whole life?
I couldn't comprehend ever being able to keep going without Kirsten there. I didn't really think about diving at all.
I couldn't imagine moving forward or doing anything after her passing; I just felt really confused. I feel like part of you dies, and you're not the same anymore. But to have something to help you take your mind off it and give you a reason to keep going, is really important, I think.
After about a month out of diving, I decided to go back and see how I'd go. Realistically, I started using it as a distraction; a way to keep my mind off things and almost help me get through her passing.
I wasn't really thinking about competitions. I just wanted to get back into doing something that would keep my mind from constantly thinking...
It was really good to put everything into something again.
You need a lot of concentration in diving, so at training it was hard for little things outside of diving to creep into my mind. I've always been a really focused athlete, so diving became a place where I could give my mind a bit of a break.
Kirsten's passing is always going to be hard; there's never a time when I'm not thinking about it, and sometimes it's really hard to pull myself out of that dark place. You want to be there for your family, but it's hard.
Returning to diving wasn't necessarily hard, because every day is hard. At the beginning, diving was a break for my mind to stop thinking about some of those dark thoughts; everything was a bit of a struggle, but it was nice to have something else to think about.
From that time in my life through to now, and probably forever ... it's just been hard in general, and I don't think it will ever get easier.
I don't know if the way I grieved was the right or wrong way, but I can understand why people bury themselves in work because I feel that I've almost done that by going back to diving. It gave me an appreciation for diving because I sort of understand that life is short, but at the same time I don't know if that's just me trying to make my way through it.
I had the time with my family, but it almost seemed as though we decided to go back to the things we were doing. I don't necessarily think that period of grieving time is over; I feel like we almost haven't dealt with it.
I find it really hard to think about it still; if I think about it too much I find it really hard to deal with. So diving has become my distraction; maybe that isn't a good thing, but for my family and me that was the only way I could keep going. I don't think I was going to be able to function otherwise if I didn't keep myself moving or throwing myself into projects. If it wasn't diving, it would have been something else just to keep my mind occupied.
But we're all still happy; everything we still achieve -- me with my diving, and weightlifting for my brother and sister -- we're really happy for each other. But I think we've all definitely used the things that we love to help keep us moving forward.
When I go to competitions, I definitely feel like Kirsten helps me through. I don't really believe in seeing any signs of her, but I just know in the heart that she's there looking out for me and the family.
There are some moments, when good things happen in the family, when my siblings perform well in competitions, I just really wish I could share them with her -- not just for me, but for my family.
For my family and me, we have little things that help us remember her.
Kirsten had these stuffed bunnies that she loved; they were really soft, and she never used to like people touching them -- because she wanted them in pristine condition. We all have matching ones now; I think I have about three of them. I keep two in pristine condition, and one of them I take around with me everywhere.
I keep a little photo frame of a picture of Kirsten and me, and they -- the frame and the toy -- sit on my bedside table, and I take them everywhere I go.
They'll both definitely be joining me in Rio. When I wake up each day, she'll be the first thing I see.