Finding My Center Through Derby

I know it's generic to say that life is amazing, but it really is.
Sometimes I think about the incredible journey that I've had over the past few years and I can't believe it all really happened. I lost a super close relative, sacrificed a stable situation in my home town near all my family and moved across the ocean, moved five more times, went through a slew of jobs and slumlords, went on/off welfare, lived on different islands, got in a motorcycle accident, broke bones/tore ligaments, lost touch with lifelong friends, surrendered my dog, landed my dream job. So much has changed, yet one thing has remained a steady constant:

Derby.

No, I'm not saying that derby itself has stayed exactly the same; rule sets are adjusted annually and the newest strategies have fans and players alike in an uproar... but the spirit of the sport is solid. So many sacrifices by thousands of girls throughout the world have gone into creating this unique and stable identity, a beacon of empowerment, inspiration, reward, triumph, and most importantly, support through defeat.

I've skated for three leagues. I left the most established of the three to fall backwards into starter leagues that had shaky foundations and growing pains. I reluctantly took on leadership roles in attempts to help build an environment where the league could grow. But despite best efforts, plans fail... intentions are misinterpreted... friendships, destroyed. My current league has had so many internal conflicts that I sometimes feel like a child in a broken home. It's heartbreaking. It is my abusive relationship that I just can't quit. Something deeper, richer, and more important than petty arguments compels me to try harder and invest more. Derby has become a part of me, and when I step away to take a break and breathe, I feel like something has been ripped from my chest. Derby is in my center.

Derby is the extended family of sisters that I quarrel with, and yet I have to learn to trust them in the heat of battle when our opponents are out for blood. Alpha bitches that hate being followers instead of leaders, all with the common goal of making our sport the best it can be, yet mostly too pigheaded and stubborn to accept that sometimes our own take on things isn't the right perception. Mothers, career girls, homebodies, world explorers. We all love the sport. And like moths to the flame, we intentionally get too involved and get burned. Again, and again. We make mistakes. We fall from grace.


I'm on a crazy path of spiritual awakening at present, and derby is at the center. If I step away from practices for too long (as of late), I feel incredibly alone in a very big world, and quite unsettled. 80% of the contacts in my phone and on my facebook are derby people with derby names. I can't imagine my life without all that it encompasses. Looking at my smaller group of friends unassociated with the sport, I sometimes feel bad for them and hope they have a community with as much purpose as mine. It's all ego, I'm sure, but I feel so lucky to have this extended family that in a cultish way, I want them all to join me. I've been playing since 2007 and yes... I've been recruiting since 2007. I want to teach everyone all that I know about the sport. I want them to love it as much as I do. Of course I know that everyone can't possibly, but like a Jehovah's Witness, I pack recruitment flyers and business cards in my purse and freely distribute on the bus, the sidewalk, Subway, the grocery store, the mall, the doctor's office. You just never know who you'll save.

Every derby girl has a before and after; before derby, I longed for a nickname and felt like a misfit. After derby, it feels bizarre to have someone call me by my legal name, and I am so strong inside, so confident. What other place is there than this rich one, oozing with opportunity/inspiration/hope/identity/courage/strength/wholeness? The church. But I don't go to a temple to worship; I'm a Buddhist that doesn't meditate regularly and never chants. I'm living as zenlike and present as possible for what I'm comfortable with, and yet derby.... a violent, strategically competitive sport... makes me feel closer to enlightenment than any amount of time in a temple. I feel high on life after a hard bout. I am emotionally and physically drained, like an evangelical born-again abolished of sins by a slap to the forehead. I am so at peace, and so calm. It is the ultimate release.

Derby takes me to my higher place, so despite any amount of drama within a league, my spiritual growth from derby is sound.


Derby is my rock.

Yuppies happen when hipsters and preps grow up.

Pretty sure the world is ending and pigs can fly...
I just purchased organic vanilla soy milk instead of 1% cow milk tonight at the grocery store. 
Two weeks ago, I (probably permanently) switched my triple grande mocha to a triple soy skinny mocha. I also ate All-Bran for breakfast all weekend with soy milk and organic bananas, black bean soup from scratch, organic spinach, tomatoes and hummus. I even had raw almonds in there. But... yesterday I freaked out and ate really badly. Sigh. This new age food regimen is challenging. Being a yuppie doesn't come naturally when you're raised in dairy country. It's an exciting and difficult test of my will power and a true lesson in discipline and consequence. 

There is no one to hold me accountable but myself.

I downloaded an app on my iphone that I already despise to track my food journal entries. It forces me to stare each "secret eating" indulgence in the face when it destroys an otherwise great food day. I'm only a few days in to the attempt, but the bad choices are glaringly obvious. Before, I could eat something with some guilt and plenty of glutton, then go about my business and not think about it again. With this app, I now track every item that enters my body, every day, week by week, month by month. If I don't work out and I eat shitty, I see my fall from grace. I had no idea I lacked so much discipline until now. Bummer.

Someone told me that women lack discipline more than men do, that women want to be comfortable and don't want to be inconvenienced by withholding favorite foods or creature comforts. Men, supposedly (at least this source), can withstand more discomfort to reach a goal. I'm not 100% buying that opinion, but it is an interesting one to make a study of. Can I sacrifice creature comforts and favorite foods in the interest of trying to cut out the fat? So far the score is tied, with only four days recorded.

I've been dealing with some real derby problems the past few months, and my safe place has been uprooted. It would seem the derby drama truly never ends. I sort of did it to myself by taking on leadership positions, fully knowing that I would have a target on my forehead, but yet... I thought I could keep it cool and help stabilize the very turbulent waters of this league. Enough said. Amidst the chaos of all of that, I have made enough poor diet choices amidst recovering from injury to feel like a baby rhinoceros. I am taking back some control. This really boils down to an attempt to be more aware of what I'm ingesting. I'm no angel. But I'm starting to try harder.

Derby, My Internal Clock, and Sacrifice

Yesterday was my 35th Birthday. You know what that means, boys and girls! That's right... sexual peak. Which consequently means that my biological clock is working over time to remind me that my eggs are shriveling up and rattling around in my barren uterus.

Pleasant, I know. That's how my confused, post-modern, career-oriented brain feels. I feel overly saturated with multiple agendas and a conflicted identity. I am a walking contradiction.
I was designed to breed... but too keen on traveling, sleeping, pursuing dreams that don't involve diapers, and involved with a man that isn't too thrilled about the sacrifices makes for a pretty solid argument against child-rearing. But there is this clock. And it is a very nagging internal voice that tells me I will regret this decision when I hit menopause. Oh Em Gee. What's a girl in the year 2012 to do?

For one, said girl will continue with her re-entry into roller derby post-injury to burn off some of her frustrations. Except derby in itself is a giant hairball of incessant drama and catty confrontations. So that doesn't really ease my burden... it adds to it. I started working on a big painting... and that is therapeutic, but I'm nervous that little babies will start working themselves out through the canvas to expose my delicate psyche battle...

So far, no babies. But it's interesting how things have changed within me in the past 5 years. I was pretty set against kids at 30. Prior to that, I was sure I'd consider abortion if there was an accident.
Now, my man likes to make fun of me at the height of ovulation by pointing out my estrogen peak and then mentioning all of the local Chinatown bars filled to the brim with deadbeat men who will gladly knock me up for free.

Yeah... I'll get right on that...

So, human programming and the need to procreate in order for the species to survive has a grip on my good judgement at the moment. What about all of those women out there who don't have the ability to conceive? What about those who lose their kids to bad accidents and miscarriages? Am I more selfish for choosing to have one, or incredibly selfish for NOT having one? This is a complex situation.

If I got pregnant this month, I would:

• Not be able to travel to foreign countries on my bucket list with any ease, if at all
• Say goodbye to sleeping in for the next 10 years, if not longer
• Have to quit derby for at least a year
• Would have very little support from family (they live very far away)
• Would have some hard sacrifices to make in order to afford my rent/bills
• Would have no guarantees that I wouldn't be a single-mom 

These are serious sacrifices. So those baby-mommas out there need to weigh in on this junk. I'm not even saying I have the option of this biz going down... but I really need someone to validate my anxiety over this clock situation. Someone needs to tell me it's all gonna be okay, because my poor brain is freaking out. What if I make the wrong decision? What Would Buddha Do?
I don't have that much longer to make this choice. Thirty-five is no spring chicken. It's late summer chicken.

Other than that burning question, life is beautiful;

Last night for my big birthday, my man took me to Ruth's Chris for the most expensive steak I've ever eaten (my steak alone was $50, and that's all he told me).

Today I was approved for hire "officially," so I think I sign the last document tomorrow... meaning I will FINALLY have stable income, benefits, a 401k, 3 weeks vacation a year, and sick leave. Working my dream job.

My life is fucking fantastic right now.

I just don't think I was grateful for what I had when I had it; when I was laid off in 2007 and lost my full-time job with benefits, I began a journey of soul-searching. I developed appreciation for all I had lost. I needed until now to realize how important it is to my health and lifestyle to have stable income and all of those benefits, that they allow me a standard of living that is coveted and privileged. Stability is important to me now. I don't know that I thought it was important in 2006.

But just to reiterate yet again... Hawaii is hard. It took a lot of suffering to make it to this point! I need to constantly remind myself to be grateful for what I have, instead of worrying about what I don't have.

All we have is now. That's it! Just now.