Crawling out of the bell jar

I'm overdue for a relevant post...but let me explain why I've been M.I.A.

I crawled into the Bell Jar this past week and curled up there. I've done nothing but sleep, watch Grey's Anatomy from bed (anxiously awaiting the episode where Callie releases her inner-homo) and halfheartedly study for the GREs. The past month or so has been serving up tragedies left and right and it seems like no one escapes unscathed. I've been lucky that the blows haven't hit closer to home and I feel almost guilty that they haven't. I realize that's silly---no one wishes these things on anyone, but regardless I feel bad for even discussing it as though it happened to me. It's just like this cloud of misfortune has descended upon everyone and everything and I'm hoping it passes.

Marry me?

On the bright side, I've crawled out of said Bell Jar, mostly aided by the fact that I (1) was able to attend derby practice yesterday and (2) was able to hit hard at said practice---oh, and the sunshine that has finally decided to make an appearance. I can't do rainy days....they're awful anxiety inducing asshole mechanisms that make me want to eat and drink everything in the fridge (inadvisable since none of it is mine and it's mostly rotting vegetables and beer) and sleep. Without Red Bull, I sleep...a lot.

But yesterday, I was able to make my first derby practice in TWO WEEKS. Two weeks is a long time without skating when you've designated roller derby as your salvation. Between work and rainy days, I was seriously jonesin' for some quality pack work, booty blocking and squats. Well, GUESS WHAT? We've finally started contact. That's right, I get to smash bodily into other girls and knock them on their asses, which, let's face it, is the best part of roller derby.

Oh my god, I love it.

Being 5'2" with a low center of gravity and a lot of junk in the trunk has never come in handy for me (except when I walk downtown late at night and men aggressively call me 'shawty,' which no one wants)...UNTIL NOW. I've been anxiously awaiting the skill in derby that I have serious prowess at. I'm no speed skater, my endurance needs a lot of work and my skills are pretty standard, but hitting? Hitting is something I feel like I can be fucking awesome at and I intend to. God, it's so fucking intoxicating----don't get me wrong, I'm not going to be caught in a downward spiral where I start punching strangers during stressful work shifts, but I can assure you I will be doing a lot of hitting on the track.

One of my favorite blockers, Annie Cockledoux of the Green Mountain Derby Dames, gettin' down to bidness

I think hitting is so appealing to me because I'm the antithesis of aggression. When it comes to conflict, I've always been passive to my detriment. I've let one too many girlfriends push me around (and throw laptops at my head) and that has never ended well. I would rather have tons of whiny inner turmoil than deal with the overt confrontation that would be much quicker and more satisfying. Recently in a counseling session, Christy and I were discussing the past 6 months and the fall out from Kate, along with the relationship itself, and she said to me, 'What I'm wondering is why you aren't ANGRY.'

It never occurs to me to be angry, to hold people accountable for their actions and just be fucking PISSED at them. I'd rather be sad or tired or disappointed or frustrated. In a lot of ways, I'm sure that's been beneficial, but in just as many ways it hasn't. And so when I have the opportunity to slam into another girl on rollerskates, I'm ecstatic, and I'm not holding back.

This month, we start having indoor practices twice a week and off skate workouts twice a week. I'm the happiest girl. I absolutely fucking adore my derby girls, they're my family, and seeing them regularly just makes me feel so happy and squirmy inside. Today, my whole body aches, including muscles I didn't know I had (I pulled a muscle in my throat...IN MY THROAT) and I feel like myself. It's been two weeks without a single Red Bull, I've kept off the initial weight loss and lost another pound, and hauled my ass out of the bell jar.

I'm doin' alright, how about you?

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