Kelly performs at Russian Split Pole Move at PoleCon 2025

Why I Stopped Competing

February 13, 2026
Casey Danzig
General

Reflecting on PSO Northeast and My Changing Perspective

PSO Northeast was quickly approaching, and it’s usually an event I look forward to. Despite the inconvenience of it being held in Boston in November, this competition has always been among my best experiences. Typically, it’s the one I feel most prepared for, allowing me to perform with confidence and truly enjoy the process. Stage fright has never been an issue for me; in fact, it’s the thrill of performing that has always drawn me to competing. I would come off stage on a high—at least, I used to.

This year, however, felt different. Instead of the usual excitement leading up to the event, I found myself indifferent. The costs—nearly $800 for the hotel and train, not including the $200 already spent on pro division registration—felt especially burdensome. Money has been tight for everyone, myself included, but in the past, my desire to compete always found a way to justify the expense. This time, I didn’t feel that motivation, and spending so much for something I wasn’t passionate about seemed irresponsible. Ultimately, I chose to withdraw, forfeiting the registration fee for the sake of my mental health.

Beyond Financial Concerns: Shifting Priorities

While finances played a role, my decision to step back from competing was rooted in something deeper. After five years of participating in two to three competitions annually, I suddenly found myself in an unfamiliar place—uncertain if or when I would compete again, and surprisingly, not bothered by it. This absence also explains why I haven’t been as present at my home studio or active on social media. It’s strange how something can consume so much of your life, and then, seemingly overnight, the passion fades.

The Journey: From First Competition to Codependency

I began training for my first competition in late 2020, preparing for an event scheduled in April 2021, the first since the COVID-19 shutdown. Many polers who had been forced to postpone their 2020 plans were eager to return to the stage. The pandemic shifted my perspective on “tomorrow,” pushing me to seize the opportunity rather than risk missing out again. Coincidentally, my two-year relationship ended just weeks before the competition. Channeling my energy into training was a helpful distraction, but I eventually realized that I had traded one form of codependency for another—pole competitions became the center of my world.

The Pressure and Emotional Toll of Competing

Experiencing emotional meltdowns before competitions isn’t unusual. The nerves, physical demands, uncertainty, and mental strain can be overwhelming, leading to tears over minor mistakes. For my first three competitions, I would finish my routine and immediately seek solitude to cry over perceived failures. There was no sense of relief or pride, just immense pressure to avoid disappointing my coaches, studio, friends, and family. Every mistake, no matter how small, overshadowed any accomplishment. Even when I learned to be kinder to myself, seeing low placements in the results would ruin my weekend and leave me unwilling to celebrate.

As my following grew, so did the pressure to meet expectations. Compliments and excitement from others felt like additional weight on my shoulders. I worried about letting down my dad, friends who traveled to see me, and coaches who invested time in my growth. Every misstep brought disappointment, and the pressure spilled into practice, creating guilt, anxiety, and tension with teammates.

Imposter Syndrome and Self-Doubt

Qualifying for the Pro level intensified my self-doubt. I felt undeserving, as though my placement was a technicality everyone recognized. Despite efforts to change this mindset, insecurities persisted. I worried coaches favored stronger competitors, and resentment crept into my relationships, including with my best friend. Looking back, I spent years trying to prove myself to my studio and peers—seeking validation, respect, and inclusion. Whether real or imagined, this pursuit drained my joy.

The Breaking Point and Path to Healing

This past year, the pressure and negative self-talk overwhelmed any remaining enjoyment. My last competition was marked by imposter syndrome and anxiety, leaving me feeling out of place. The experience was miserable, filled with tears, anger, and frustration. By Sunday, I decided to skip my usual summer competition, hoping to regain confidence and focus on personal growth. This choice also gave me time to pursue other interests, like traveling to New Orleans for my birthday. However, as new competitions approached, old anxieties resurfaced, leading to more breakdowns and panic attacks surrounding performance.

Redefining Performance and Rediscovering Joy

Performing has always been my passion—the reason I started competing. I loved telling stories and expressing myself creatively, but over time, preparing for competitions became a source of dread. I even noticed myself becoming judgmental and insular, traits I never wanted to embody. The pursuit of greatness and fear of showing weakness overshadowed the fun, and I realized pole hadn’t been enjoyable for some time.

Unlike college and high school sports, which naturally included breaks, pole competitions had no off-season. The constant cycle of training and competing, coupled with social media comparisons, intensified the pressure. I recognized that my life and mental health were being dictated by something that shouldn’t hold such power over me. My codependency had shifted from relationships to competitions.

Choosing Liberation and Embracing a New Chapter

So, I made the decision to stop. I canceled my plans, accepted the loss of my registration fee, and withdrew from the competition. I expected to regret it or feel left out as others trained, but instead, I felt liberated. Now, I train without the pressure of deadlines, allowing myself to compete only when I feel truly ready and excited. I trust myself to know when the time is right.

My Pole Renaissance: Renewed Focus and Community

I’m experiencing what I call a “pole renaissance.” While I continue training, my priorities have shifted toward expanding my skills, exploring different styles, and connecting with the broader pole community. I’ve been fortunate to make friends with talented dancers and now aim to visit their studios, learn from them, and try new workshops, such as Hard Style and Sensual. I’m interested in different competitions and even teaching workshops elsewhere. This approach allows me to break free from the tunnel vision of repetitive training and rediscover excitement for pole.

For the first time in five years, I have no set plan. I’m eager to see where this journey takes me, what new stages I’ll perform on, who I’ll meet, and what creative ideas I’ll pursue. The uncertainty feels invigorating, like the anticipation of Christmas morning.

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Casey Danzig

Casey Danzig is a full time body piercer in NYC and has been competing in pole competitions for 3 years.Writing has always been a passion for them since childhood and like pole, is an art form they use to express themselves.Like most single humans, she has her standard government issued cat who she’s fondly named Ringo.