Girls Aren’t Failing Sports. Maybe Sports Are Failing Girls.

The Silent Shift: Why Girls Stop Doing What They Love

First, Maddie bailed on the second half of a swim meet after not performing up to her ability. Then she started missing practices. And then, she quit.

The sport that once gave her so much joy no longer brought her happiness. The pool that once felt like home became a place she avoided.

She lost her identity as a great swimmer. And when you lose that, it’s not just about skipping practice—you lose confidence. You stop seeing yourself as capable. You stop believing you belong there.

This isn’t rare. In Canada, one in three girls quit organized sports during their teen years, compared to one in ten boys. That drop starts earlier than most realize, often between ages 10 and 12, when body changes, self-doubt, and peer pressure collide.

Then everything starts to shift. You stop hanging out with the kids you spent hours with in and around the pool. You lose the structure that competition gives you: the discipline, the goals, the purpose. And when that disappears, bad choices can creep in.

Your friend group changes. Your energy drops. Your focus fades. And as a parent, watching it happen feels like someone is slowly dimming the light in your child.

I watched it with Maddie.
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever seen.

She went from eight pool sessions a week to none. From standing on the podium to just trying to get through the day. From strong and confident to self-critical and withdrawn.

Her body changed. Her diet changed. Her spirit changed.
And she noticed every difference. Negatively.

When girls stop moving, everything changes with it, their energy, confidence, and connection to themselves.

Imagine if Maddie had been paired with a mentor who had lived through the same burnout. Someone who had felt the same fatigue, the same pressure, the same voice in their head saying, “I’m not good enough.”

Someone who could have said, “I’ve been there. You can get through this.”

Maybe that mentor would have suggested scaling back, reducing eight 90-minute sessions to three or four. Maybe they would have emphasized enjoyment over medals. Maybe they would have introduced a sport psychologist early, not because she was turning pro, but because she needed to understand that she was more than her 100-metre freestyle splits.

Competition is important, but not at the expense of mental health.

Maddie used to glide across the water like it was second nature. But later, she started to fight it. Every lap looked heavier. Every race felt forced. And when that happens, the enjoyment disappears.

It doesn’t have to.

A mentor can be that difference. The person who reminds a young athlete that their worth isn’t tied to performance. The one who helps them reframe setbacks as part of growth, not failure.

That’s what The MentorWell is about. It’s about pairing young people with mentors who’ve walked the same road, stumbled, and still found a way forward. It’s about teaching emotional awareness, building resilience, and reminding them that identity doesn’t come from medals, it comes from who they are when no one’s watching.

Exercise is still the best natural antidepressant there is. It burns off anxiety, builds friendships, and restores confidence. It’s not about perfection. It’s about movement, connection, and belonging.

So if your daughter starts to pull away from the thing she once loved, lean in.
Ask how she feels, not how she performed.
Encourage her to keep moving. To keep connecting. To keep believing in herself.

Because most girls don’t stop doing what they love because they lose interest.
They stop because they stop feeling like they belong there.

And that’s exactly where a mentor can step in, and help her find her way back.