THE STORY OF SUBIE

There is something you need to know. Over the past several months, I've said THE WORD as I saw it on a number of controversial issues. My intent was not to hurt anyone, much less have others come back to hurt me for telling the truth. I always thought people would respect someone who would come right out and speak his or her mind about injustice. Apparently, that is not so, because I have been slaughtered by critics everywhere- online, in print and God knows where else. Maybe some people cannot handle the truth. Maybe they don't want anyone to expose it. Maybe these people don't understand me. 

I've given THE WORD on just about everything except for myself. To those critics, I say, yes, I can dish it out, but I can take it, too. With that said, this month's WORD is about some extremely personal issues from my private life.  There has been the occasional rumor about what really happened in some of these events, but none were ever correct. For the first time in my life, I am ready (at least I think I am) to discuss my own WORD. 

In 1992, my life changed in a tragic way. I collected a debt I would never be able to repay. There are a lot of people who always wanted to know the story. I've never talked about it. It was just too hard, too personal. Even though I've had over 12 years, and a year and a half of therapy to reflect, it's one of the hardest things for me to talk about. It still seems like yesterday...

It actually happened on April 19^th, 1993, about a month after the Arnold Classic and a week after my birthday. At the time, I was not only one of the newest professional bodybuilders on the scene, I was also considered one of the greatest athletes of all time. There was so much hype surrounding me. People already had me earmarked for a future Mr. Olympia. I had an enormous amount of exposure. Prior to this, I only competed in two amateur shows, the NPC North American in '91, and again in '92, in which I turned pro. My third show was the Ironman Pro Invitational where I went up against the likes of Vince Taylor and Lee Labrada. A week later, I was in Columbus, Ohio, competing in the 1993 Arnold Schwarzenegger Classic, meeting Arnold personally. When I walked out on stage, 5,000 people sat there shocked.  Everyone's jaw dropped. I believe that Bob Kennedy, Joe Weider and Steve Blechman would all say that when I walked out on stage that day, I changed bodybuilding forever.

It was glorious! I was on cloud nine. I had a contract with Weider and another one with Perfetto Sportswear. Guest posings were coming in on a weekly basis. People were calling from all over the world. I was set financially and I finally made it in a very big way.

Thank goodness I didn't win my first show and turn pro on my first try. I wouldn't be able to handle it. In 1991, I lost by one point to Ray McNeil, God rest his soul. The loss was good for me. I learned a lot after that defeat. I ate a whole bunch of humble pie. My head had become so swollen going in from being the first amateur to ever land an endorsement contract to being hyped in the magazines more than other pros. All before I ever stepped on a stage. For a 24-year-old kid, that's something else.

When I turned pro in '92, Flex Wheeler and me had become good friends, as well as Chris Cormier, Mike Christian, Gary Strydom, Rico McClinton and Charles Glass. I had all these people in my life, talking to me every day, helping me adjust to the newfound fame and fortune. Life was great. I achieved a dream; a fantasy. Immediately after turning pro on my second try, I qualified for the Mr. Olympia. Man, it was the ultimate. It wasn't about winning for me then. I was just ecstatic to actually be there- so fast. Everyone had big plans for Paul Dillett, myself included. I lived in a whirlwind of success. I felt like nothing could go wrong, nor could anything bring me down. Or so I thought.

I met a cute little blond girl at Gold's Gym Venice. Her name was Subie and we just hit it off right away. Subie was a really sweet person. After six months of dating, we moved in together and life was great. But at 28, Subie was four years older than me and at that time in my life, I wasn't thinking about getting married, having kids, a family, none of that. I ate, slept and breathed bodybuilding. That was it for me. I could hardly sleep at night because I'd get so excited just thinking about what I was going to do in the gym the next day. I couldn't wait to get in there and get that pump. The last thing on my 24-year-old mind was where our relationship was going. 

I was very selfish. It was me, me and then me again. If you can live with that, fine. If you can't, you have to go, and I don't really give a rat's ass about it, either. That was Paul Dillett. But Subie wanted more. Or expected more than what I was willing to give. 

Look, when you're young, dumb and extremely successful, you do stupid things. I was in southern California surrounded by beautiful women with money in my pocket and a world-class physique; I became more famous by the day. It was hard to resist the temptation of the women around me. That is when I met my now ex-wife, Britta. There was just something about her that I felt was special. I knew in my heart that Britta was the one for me, the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I hadn't cheated with Britta. There wasn't a physical relationship at that point; just a mutual attraction.

Then there was Subie. I can't say Britta gave me things Subie didn't. I decided that I didn't want to be in the relationship with Subie anymore because if I felt this way about another woman, it was better to move on than try to stay.  Subie wanted a ring, but I didn't want to give her one. We've all dated people that we don't intend to marry in an effort to try and find the one person who is the most compatible. I felt I had more in common with Britta than I did with Subie. I did love Subie as a person. I cared about her and only wanted good things for her. But I as not in love with Subie. 

Britta wasn't putting any pressure on me to leave Subie. It was my decision. You cannot say it is selfish for someone to get out of an unhappy relationship. I cared about Subie deeply, but more as a friend than a girlfriend. 

I finally got the courage to tell Subie it was over. I remember that day vividly. It was a beautiful Friday evening. I told Subie, "This is not working out anymore. I just think it would be better to savor our friendship and forget about being together as boyfriend and girlfriend." It totally broke her heart. I don't think she saw it coming. I really wanted the best for her. 

When I told her I wanted to leave, I offered her one of my contracts- the clothing endorsement with Perfetto. It was a two-year deal worth $3,500 a month at the time. I offered it to her just so I'd know that for the next two years she would at least be taken care of. It didn't matter. She didn't care one way or the other, and didn't want it. By the same token, knowing what I know now, Subie was a co-dependant person. That's how Subie was. Two people can share a life together, but you have to have your own life, expectations and goals.  You cannot live your life vicariously through someone else. You need your own independence. 

I know this now, but back then, I didn't. I should have. I wish I did. But I was young and so wrapped up in doing my own thing, being the best I could be, I just wasn't able to see it. There were signs of Subie's manic depression- low self-esteem, little confidence, sleeping a lot and unable to live up to her parents' expectations. I didn't see those either.

What I did know was that my feelings had changed. We cannot control our heart. You cannot say, tomorrow I'm going to get up and change the way I feel. It just doesn't work that way. Nature takes its course and you do your best to live a healthy life within it. 

I told Subie I was going to get my own place and would come back to pick my stuff up later. I gave her a kiss on the head and left. The next morning, which was Saturday, all the boys and me got together to go see the Orange County bodybuilding show. I went over to the house again. I gave Subie a hug, told her I would always love her and kissed her again on the head. I didn't know it at the time, but it'd be one morning I'd remember for as long as I live.

I went to the Orange County show. I noticed Subie tried to call me on the cell phone, but I didn't answer it. I was hanging out with the guys, having a good time. I called her the next day, Sunday, but she didn't answer. So that evening, I drove by her house and saw her car in the driveway. I figured she might have gone out with her girlfriends or was still upset with me, and wasn't taking my calls.

That Sunday night, I began to have a very bad feeling inside of me. I was staying at the Marina Pacific Hotel at the time. Something just wasn't right. I didn't know what, but it tugged at me. On Monday morning, I went to see Britta. We spoke for a while and then I told her I was going to check on Subie. While I was driving over to Subie's place, I had a nervous feeling inside of me.  Somehow, I knew something was wrong. 

When I rang the doorbell and no one answered, I jumped up to the balcony and started knocking on the sliding glass door. I still had this feeling in me. I could see Subie lying on the bed with all her cats sitting around her. They were quietly looking at her. I figured Subie was just ignoring me. You know, giving me a taste of my own medicine since I broke up with her, right? But I got more and more nervous.

I kept knocking and knocking. The sense of urgency kept growing.   Finally, I just ripped the sliding door out and went in. I walked over to Subie and noticed that she was writing a letter of some sort. Then, I looked right into her face and put my hand under her head to wake her up.

Subie was ice cold. Subie was so stiff it was like she was frozen solid. I honestly had no idea she was dead until I touched her. She looked so sweet and peaceful, lying there, wearing a little black dress. That was the hardest thing in my life. I've been through a lot, but that was the hardest. She was someone I cared about, she was dead, and I found her.

As soon as my hand felt that eerie, ice-cold feeling, I completely lost it. I was so scared. I ran right through the front door, literally splitting it in half. I totally forgot where I was. I ran out of the house and down a street that I travel every day, but I had no clue where I was. Nothing looked familiar to me at all. I was trying to find a telephone so I could call someone for help, even though I had no idea who I was going to call. I just kept saying, "Oh my God! Oh my God!  Oh My God!" Everything was blank. I shook uncontrollably. I don't know how much time passed- 10, 15 minutes, maybe an hour, when I finally called my agent, Robin Chang. I tried to explain what happened, but I couldn't. All I could get out of me was, "Subie is dead." Robin kept trying to calm me down and find out what happened, but I was crying so hysterically I couldn't even tell him where I was. Robin told me to describe what I saw around me. I finally recognized that I was standing near the Marina Pacific Hotel where I was living during my separation from Subie.

Robin told me to try and calm down and walk back home. So I did, crying my head off, and I went to the neighbors who called 911. I couldn't even go back inside the apartment building. I sat outside until the police came and a very nice lady cop sat with me the whole time. She wouldn't let me look when they brought out the body. My mind was blank. I was shaking all over, like being outside in the middle of winter without any clothes on. Robin arrived and sat and talked with me. Even the police and neighbors sat and talked with me.

Robin called Britta and told her about it. This was the last thing anyone expected. No one saw it coming. After that, I went to the firehouse and met with Rico, Chris and Flex. They were trying to get me to eat something, but I couldn't even swallow, I was so scared and nervous. What was even worse is that two days later I was supposed to be in Guatemala for five days. I didn't want to go.  Everyone told me, "You might as well go, Paul; there's nothing you can do." But I didn't want to go alone. I was in complete shock. So I asked Rico and Flex if they could go with me. I didn't want to ask Chris Cormier because of the upcoming show. Rico couldn't go because he had to stay with his family and take care of them. I forgot why Flex couldn't go, but Chris decided he was going to go with me.

Chris was about nine weeks out from the Mr. USA at the time. Everyone knew this was the year he'd get his pro card. Even with all that, Chris felt: This is my friend and if my companionship will help him make it through this, then the hell with the USA. My friend needs me more than I need a pro card. I've always had a love for Chris Cormier. I love him like a brother. He just showed me that in a time of need, no matter what, he's going to be there for you. People will say they're your friend and got your back, but I know for myself, Chris is a real, true friend. Nine weeks out, he picked up and left with me for Guatemala.

Chris barely got any sleep, because I had to leave the light and television on. I just wanted to hear his voice talking to me. I was scared to go to sleep.  Chris was there for me.

During those first months, I maybe got an hour or two of sleep a night. It was extremely hard. Anytime I'd fall asleep, I'd have dreams of Subie where I'd be in her place and she would be looking over, right into my eyes and vice versa. I kept reliving it in my sleep. There were times that I'd see her in a car that just drove past me. I would actually start to follow the car and I'd see her pull into a parking lot. By the time I'd get there, she was gone. I had days like that for a long, long time, where I'd see her every day and dream about her every night.

You can't imagine the guilt. I blamed myself completely. I kept telling myself that if I hadn't broken up with her, this wouldn't have happened. Or, if I had gone over on Sunday I could have saved Subie. I had all these things in my head- if only this, if only that. If I had answered her call. At Christmas time, I'd go to her grave, sit down and just talk to her for the day. It took me about a year and a half of counseling to get to the point that I didn't blame myself anymore. I tried talking to her family, but they didn't want any of that. They held me accountable. But now I know they can't do that. It wasn't my fault, I didn't take her life. Subie didn't have a good relationship with her family. As a matter of fact, it was horrible. 

The 1993 Mr. Olympia was right after this. Britta helped me make it through. She'd go with me to counseling and she stood by me, along with Robin, Chris, Rico, Flex and all those guys who were there for me at my lowest point. The thing that gave me courage to train for the 1993 Mr. Olympia was knowing that regardless of anything else, Subie would still want me to the best I could. I don't think she committed suicide to hurt me. I think Subie just wanted to escape her pain. I never did read the letter Subie wrote before her death, but she had a Sade song, Ordinary Love, playing over and over on the CD player while she laid there. For years, I couldn't listen to that song. To this day, every time I hear it, it brings tears to my eyes because when I reflect on the memory, it's just like it was yesterday. I've often wondered what the letter said, but I know it's probably better that I don't know and just leave it alone. What is done is done.

To be honest, I never have completely recovered from her death. It's one of those things that you just never get over. I still have days where I think about it, remembering her and the times we spent together. I have always been a very strong individual. Regardless of what happens in my life, I've never resorted to drugs or alcohol, or some kind of eating disorder to help me through difficult times. Instead, I just fall apart. I don't eat. I would keep losing weight because I couldn't eat or sleep. This definitely changed me considerably. It made me so very humble. 

People sometimes pass judgment on me even if they don't know me.  Anyone in bodybuilding who has met me has said I'm one of the nicest people they've ever met. Going through something like this really humbles a person. I look at life in a completely different way. To become one of the greatest bodybuilders can make some guys big headed and arrogant. But when Subie died, it brought me down to a whole different level. I realized that life is so short.  I can't take anything for granted and I must be grateful for what I have, grateful that God has blessed me with a talent to do something that I truly love and enjoy, and that others get enjoyment from, as well. 

I've always been a religious person, but I think that brought me to another level of faith and belief. I'm not in the same place as Flex Wheeler is right now with his faith, or as a practicing Christian, but I do have a strong faith and belief in God. I pray every day and night, thanking God for my health and that I have seen another day. Every morning I thank Him for another day and for the sunshine. 

Prior to that experience, I never prayed. Never even thought about it. My entire family is completely religious and I was like the outcast, the black sheep of the family. Even today I'm the black sheep. I like to tell my mom that I'm a work in progress. Through all the things that have happened to me, every year I get closer and closer to the place my mom would want me to be, accepting God into my life. I just don't want to be a hypocrite and say I'm a born-again Christian. I'd want to say I'm someone who has a lot of faith in God and I'm trying to get closer and closer.

That was the first major ordeal I endured. As fate goes, it wouldn't be the last, as the following year I had a near-death experience of my own on stage at the 1994 Arnold Classic. I've never gone on record and talked about what happened and how close I was to death. Next month we'll talk about it.

And, that's THE WORD.

Got a WORD to say?  E-mail Paul through MuscularDevelopment.com