Derby Saved My Soul and Left It In Ashes

So many stories are like mine, lost or wandering souls looking for a place to belong, with like minded people who are accepting and loving. Derby was and is a place where you can find just that, but with time there's more...sort of like the fine print on a contract. It starts slow enough, you feel accepted, loved and cared about. You make lots of friends and you dive head first into amazing sport that's full of even more amazing athletes that do crazy things with their bodies on the track that leave you awe struck at their abilities. Derby becomes more than just a part of your life, it starts to flow in your veins and then you turn around one day and realize that your entire life is now derby. I suppose every sport is a bit like that, you dive in with all you have to become the best you can...but something along the way changes...people become bitter, gossip becomes the accepted currency and people who you don't even know seem to think they are experts in everything you are. The things that you once loved about derby...the love, acceptance and friendship, well it turns into hate, lies and strangers. People in your league or on your team, will walk right by you and if you are no one. It's a form of invisibility that never goes away.

You'll find that the only way to be accepted is to buy into everything that the "derby psyche" deems relevant. There comes a point where you are only accepted so long as you and your thinking fall in line. It starts innocently enough...inclusive and happy go lucky. But the minute you think outside the oval track, the preverbal wheels start to fall off your skates. I'm not sure if it's just hate, jealousy or middle school antics that bring out the haters...but they come, relentlessly. And God forbid you ever make a mistake or share something deeply personal...because then they become weapons for anyone and everyone. Even those you've never met or talked to.

So many people I have met in my 6 years in derby that share similar stories, where they felt accepted and loved only to fall out of line and become a "derby leper." While that I suppose, isn't that major of a deal on the surface, if you follow the logic deeper you realize that you've lost your friends in the real world while you were falling deeply in love with derby. You've missed moments with family, friends and other loved ones. You've donated hundreds, if not thousands of hours to this sport...you've bled, you've cried, you've given everything you have...everything you are...

Only to find yourself empty and on the outside looking in.

Not everyone can identify with this story, and that's great. But there are far too many that do. The lies, the gossip, the manipulations...they take a severe toll. They make skaters change teams. They make skaters change leagues. They make skaters quit.

Volunteers are no different...NSO's, officials, photographers, security, media, food, cleaners, and other people that give their time to leagues run out of passion for this sport. It's more than a lack of appreciation, or general warm fuzzies. At some point we all run into that wall where the battle is no longer worth the outcome...no amount of love and acceptance is enough to undo the damage of being taken for granted or used as fodder in gossip and drama.

Words have consequences.
Lack of acknowledgment has consequences.

My passion for this sport that was once brighter than the Sun has burnt to ashes. I take responsibility for my parts in its destruction, after all the brightest stars burn out the fastest.

Roller Derby, you are amazing but the "fine print" isn't worth it. And the fact that I wanted to die because of it...tells me that I need to walk away while there is still something left of me inside. I have met so many amazingly wonderful people along this 6 year journey, I don't regret it...my life would never be the same had you not come into my life. For good and bad.

But like I said, there came a point where I tried to end my life because of you, because of that "fine print"...but that's a story for another time. Or maybe one to file away in the lost archives of my mind.

Please be kind to each other...we are all we have.

Today I Thanked God

Traffic was horrible today on the way back to Marysville from New Westminster, BC...still riding the high from spending time with people who love and support me from both here and abroad. Catching up with old friends and reconnecting with my camera settings for derby. The smog was heavy from the local wild fires in BC but the air cleared somewhere around Bellingham. It took a while to get there though, the wait time at the border was over an hour and once I got to the border agent, he looked exhausted and didn't even bother checking my ID, just the usual questions..."where do you live and why did you come to Canada?" I've never had to wait that long to cross the border but things work out for reasons we don't always understand in the moment.

Which brings me back to Bellingham, traffic quickly came to a halt from a rather fast speed, I was paying attention and back far enough to not have any issues with rear ending the car in front of me, but as is my habit since being involved in a wicked traffic collision in 1999, I always watch the driver behind me to make sure they are paying attention and slowing down. In an instant I try to flash my brake lights and/or look for a quick escape route should they not slow/stop.

So here's how it played out...I'm in the left lane, traffic goes from around 65 MPH to about 35 MPH in the blink of an eye. Then speeds up a little and then within about 200 feet suddenly stops. I'm stopped and I look in the rear view mirror to make sure the driver behind me was slowing and stopping as well. She stops quickly, I have room to move up a little and push on the gas just to get a little jump and as I move just a few inches forward I see her in the rear mirror get smashed from behind, slamming her vehicle forward...I see her head fly forward, then whip back and she grabs her head and tries to figure out what happened because she didn't register that she got hit from behind. In the blink of an eye, the extra inches that I had moved forward kept me from harm....whoever hit her from behind, smashed into her for a second time...likely because someone behind them weren't paying attention and so they jolted forward resulting in her getting smashed twice. I saw it all unfold, I saw the debris fly off the cars, I saw her car get slightly lifted in the air and twisted slightly off center, I saw her hair fly around, her hands grab her head...I can still see it all.

I drove about 50 feet further to where I could pull over out of traffic, smacked the hazard button, jumped out of the car and ran to her...she was just trying to open her car door and was unbuckling her seat belt. She looked dazed and confused but when I asked her if she was okay..."yeah I think I'm okay." I told her I was calling 911 for her and at that moment a younger looking guy came up to the car, likely the one who just rammed into her and he asked if she was okay...I turned to run back to my car to get my phone and had just dialed 911 when the guy approached me saying, "you don't need to call 911, we are just going to exchange insurance information, there's not really any damage and she's okay so you don't need to call." As if timing couldn't be any more perfect, when the dispatcher answered the phone, I saw flashing lights pulling up behind the trail of smashed cars...the dispatcher asked her questions, asked if EMS needed to come out for injuries, I advised that she said she was okay, but she's going to have bad whiplash because she basically got hit twice...and I've been there and I know that while she may not feel it now...she will. The dispatcher thanked me and I went back to check on the woman who was at this time approaching my car. We met halfway and she started to cry, "I don't understand what just happened, did I hit you? Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

I placed my hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes which were very hazy and confused and told her that I called 911 regardless of what the other guy said. I advised her that she was hit twice, and that while she may not hurt right now, she will. In fact she was already getting the seat belt bruise around her neck. She was sobbing, I did my best to comfort her which ultimately was me just speaking slowly and clearly...I told her she likely wouldn't remember a lot of what is happening right now so she needs to talk with the officer and/or paramedics and follow those orders. Write things down because she won't remember. She thanked me over and over again and kept apologizing, even though I told her that she didn't hit me. I looked her in the eyes and said, see a doctor, have someone with you and try to remain calm. She asked "how did I not hit you...you were just inches in front of me?"

I don't know, but that brief moment of me pulling forward just a few inches saved me from what ended up being a 3 car pile up. She missed me by just a mere inch or two.

As I drove away, my brain started processing what I had just been involved in and my skin gripped me with goose bumps, I could see everything so clear, almost in slow motion. I had to regulate my breathing and then I broke down into tears.

Thank you God. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for my angels or whoever you have placed in charge of me. Thank you God for keeping me safe. Thank you God for the chance to help someone else who was in clear need. Thank you God for hearing my prayers of safe travels to and from my destinations. I realize it wouldn't have killed me, but I've been in the pain of whiplash...the horrible piercing pain in your head like someone is stabbing you with ice picks and the never ending vertigo. Thank you God for keeping me from experiencing that again.

Side note: It was about this time last year that I wanted to die, tried to die. Wished to die. The pain and drama in my derby life, the bullying and the lies spread about me...I wanted it to all be over. Clearly my attempts and desires of the time failed...and I find it ironic that today I thanked God for keeping me alive.

Why I Ride...

I've been around motorcycles my entire life, some of my earliest memories are of me on my dads bike and even my mom tells me story of riding in-between she and my dad on a bike...of course I was too young to remember that but I remember a lot. I was either sitting on the tank with my blankie (which got burn marks in it from touching the engine) or sitting right behind him ever so confident that nothing bad would ever happen. It's unfortunate that I couldn't spend my life on those bikes...getting back on one is proving to be very troublesome. Not because I don't have a bike, I actually have two. And it's not because I don't know how to ride, because I do. Technically there isn't anything that should stop me from riding.

But.

I'm incredibly self-conscience...even more so now that I just keep getting fatter and fatter. Yeah I know, just lose the weight. Well, you know what...I have and every time I lose, I gain back that plus extra. Hence my "give up attitude of late." I hate being fat, I hate who I am. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about the fact that because of my self-perception, my own beliefs of what body size is acceptable and quite honestly, my own paranoia that everyone is looking at me and laughing.

I still remember the first time that I realized people were making fun of me and not laughing with me but at me. WIDE LOAD was the sign taped to my back. Even the teacher laughed. Sixth grade set the tone for the rest of my life. Anyway I digress, so my issue with riding is that in my head everyone is saying to themselves or thinking to themselves...

"holy shit look how fat that chick is and she's on a bike...I'm surprised she hasn't crushed it or blown out the tires."

"wow that girl is fat, she shouldn't be on a bike."

"WIDE LOAD."

I am so fearful of looking like an idiot or a fool...at least in a car/truck my fat is mostly hidden but in a motorcycle it's out there for everyone to see. So I'm riding around and thinking to myself at every intersection..."thank God I have a helmet on so no one knows it's me" or "I'm so glad I have sunglasses on so no one can see how scared I am."

When I was younger riding was relaxing and fun, now it's stressful and anxiety inducing. I love riding, I miss the freedom of shifting through the gears and just being one with the bike. But try as I might, I can't get my head to just let everyone who has teased me endlessly go...I can't let the stinging words and laughter escape my brain. It's a horrible feeling...to never be free of the words 12 year olds said to me. 30 years later...it's still there...strong as ever.

I just want to ride...and be free. I want to feel confident in myself and just ride. Maybe if I can just ride far enough and fast enough...I'll find who I really am...the thin and athletic person I feel is trapped inside this blob of fat...this old, broken down shit hole of a body. Maybe then I can forget their words and be free.

So everyday I want to ride...I don't. Fat people shouldn't ride. Blah. Blah. Blah. Sigh.

It's been 365 days...

April 10^th marks a year since I had to say goodbye to you, since the moment I saw your eyes close for the final time…it’s been a year since my life lost direction and a year since I last heard your heart beat. Every night I blow a kiss to your grave, and turn on the table light…so you always have a light to guide you home. I have worn your collar and tag for 365 days without fail. Not one day has gone by that I have not thought of you, prayed that you are happy and pain free or missed you. On what was your first day of peace…was my last day of peace.

I would still give anything to open my eyes and see your tiny nose, your wayward mustache hairs…and that soft gold brown of your eyes meeting mine. I still have a horrible emptiness in my heart and soul that only you can fill…sometimes the emptiness screams at me and I break into tears…uncontrollable tears. But sometimes the emptiness is quieted by the knowledge that you are waiting on the other side for me.

It is a tragic feeling waking up everyday and not find you near me…and my heart still breaks when you are not there to greet me at the stairs. I could write a novel about how I miss you…love you…wish you were still here…but they are just words.

Just hollow words that I try to use to convey feelings that no one should experience.

Simply put…I lost my best friend, my soul mate 365 days ago. I will never be whole again…but I am trying to find a different version of me, a different version that has to carry on without you. A lesser version, full of pain and sorrow…weak and fragile…

It is true that day 365 hurts less than day 1…26…75…201, but only because I’ve become used to the pain. It is constant, and has become a sort of companion to me. A reminder of how deeply my heart can love and be loved and what awaits me on the other side.

So on this day I put into words my sorrow, pain, anguish and heartache at losing you. Yet still coming to terms with the fact that I feel responsible for your death…but my dear Roxy, I couldn’t handle seeing you in so much pain.

I remember telling you on that fucking horrible day that you would need to tell me when it was time because I couldn’t make that decision for you…and you looked at me with such weary eyes…

I didn’t feel that I had a choice.

I will carry that burden my entire life, until such time that you set me free. I am so sorry…so painfully sorry that I could not take your pain away and make you better. I tried, I promise I tried.

 
 Roxy, I never knew I could love so deeply, so completely until you came into my life. For better or worse, the loss of that love has left me drifting in an empty sea of tears. And if given a choice, I would still give my heart to you.

I miss you.

I love you.

Every. Single. Damn. Day.