In an emotional press conference held just hours ago on March 9, 2026, reigning Olympic gold medalist Alysa Liu broke down in tears while addressing the figure skating world. The 20-year-old American star, fresh off her historic triumph at the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics where she captured individual women’s gold and contributed to the team event victory, announced her withdrawal from the upcoming ISU World Figure Skating Championships in Prague later this month. What began as a routine media session quickly turned heartbreaking as Liu struggled to explain the “real reason” behind her decision, leaving fans and journalists stunned.
“I hope everyone won’t abandon me, because perhaps I have to…” Liu managed to say through sobs before pausing, unable to finish the sentence. The incomplete thought hung in the air, amplifying speculation about her current unstable condition. Sources close to the athlete describe her as “not okay” right now, grappling with overwhelming emotional and psychological strain following the intense spotlight of Olympic success.
Liu’s withdrawal comes less than a month after her golden moment in Milan, where she ended a 24-year drought for American women in Olympic figure skating singles. Her comeback story had inspired millions: after retiring at just 16 following the 2022 Beijing Games due to burnout and trauma, she returned stronger, reclaiming her joy on the ice and achieving what many thought impossible. Yet the very success that elevated her has now seemingly taken a toll.
The press conference revealed glimpses into her fragile state. Liu spoke haltingly about the “trauma” lingering from her earlier career pressures—strict coaching environments, constant fight-or-flight mode during training, and even extreme restrictions like being denied water during sessions. Her father, Arthur Liu, had previously shared how she suffered from PTSD after her initial retirement, avoiding ice rinks entirely and becoming deeply unhappy. Though she returned with a refreshed outlook, the post-Olympic whirlwind appears to have reopened old wounds.
Compounding this, Liu recently shared a terrifying personal encounter on social media. Days before the announcement, she posted about being “chased” to her car by an overzealous spectator after landing at an airport. “All up in my personal space. Someone chased me to my car bruh. Please do not do that to me,” she wrote, pleading for boundaries amid skyrocketing fame. The incident highlighted the dark side of sudden celebrity: mobs of fans, invasive attention, and loss of privacy that have left her feeling unsafe and overwhelmed.
In the conference, Liu emphasized her need for space. “There’s been a lot of exciting things happening since my return from Milan, so I’m taking some time for that,” she had posted on Instagram stories earlier, but today’s tears suggested deeper issues. Insiders reveal she is currently “not stable,” struggling with anxiety, exhaustion, and perhaps the weight of expectations as the sport’s new face. Her decision to skip Worlds—where she would have defended her 2025 title—allows Sarah Everhardt to step in, but it raises questions about her future in competitive skating.
Liu’s vulnerability struck a chord. She has long advocated for mental health in sports, using her platform to discuss human connection and well-being. After Beijing, she stepped away to live as a “normal teenager,” finding balance away from the rink. Her return was triumphant, but today’s raw emotion shows recovery is ongoing. “I hope that with all this attention, I can at least raise awareness about mental health in sports and in general,” she once said. Now, her own struggle underscores that message.
The figure skating community rallied in support. Teammates, coaches, and fans flooded social media with encouragement, reminding her she is not alone. “You’ve given us so much joy—take all the time you need,” one prominent skater posted. Others pointed to the grueling nature of elite athletics: the physical demands, relentless schedule, and psychological pressure that can erode even the strongest athletes.
Experts note this is not uncommon post-Olympic. Many champions experience a “crash” after the high—adrenaline fades, scrutiny intensifies, and personal life suffers. Liu’s case echoes others who prioritized mental health over immediate competition, like Simone Biles in gymnastics. Her tears may signal a necessary pause to heal.
As Prague approaches without its defending champion, the focus shifts to Liu’s well-being. She ended the conference by thanking supporters and promising to return “when ready,” but her unfinished plea—”perhaps I have to…”—left uncertainty. Is it a break, a longer hiatus, or something more permanent? Only time will tell.
For now, Alysa Liu’s courage in sharing her pain publicly serves as a powerful reminder: even gold medalists are human. Behind the quadruple jumps and flawless programs lies a young woman navigating fame, trauma, and the search for stability. Fans worldwide stand by her, hoping she finds peace amid the storm. The ice will wait—her health cannot.
In this moment of vulnerability, Liu has once again inspired, not through perfection on the ice, but through honesty about imperfection off it. The skating world watches, waits, and supports one of its brightest stars as she fights to reclaim her balance.
