Thursday, August 14, 2014

Struggle in three parts

I've had the most stressful month at work and turned immediately to my two most trusted friends, Ben and Jerry, to get me through. I skipped the gym, drank wine and no water, and ate pizza and burgers and fries and hot wings and cookies. So many cookies. My brother tells me that I deserve a piece of pizza now and then, which is like saying an alcoholic deserves a swig once in a while. One day I will begin treating food as the addiction it is, and recovery will begin. After all, I hit rock bottom a while ago and have been rolling around on its dirt floor ever since.

My weight has been an issue since I was young. Some people have stringy hair, some people have bad teeth or major acne. My weight is the cross I bear. I am totally on board with the I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR, CURVES AND STUFF mantra and all that jazz. I do think women with curves are beautiful. I think women without curves are beautiful, too.

Before you say that I am worth more than my weight, please know that I both know and agree with you. But still, this is a struggle for me, when it takes me so long to get ready in the morning because my skin doesn't fit, much less my clothing. I have no real resolutions, except to just keep trying. And try I will.

Just the other day I told my good friend that it was too soon to tell a new guy friend about my struggles with depression and anxiety. That afternoon Robin Williams was found dead of an apparent suicide in his home, and I realized just how important it is for people in your immediate realm to be aware of your struggle.

I have nothing to add to this conversation that hasn't been added via Facebook or Twitter or even Buzzfeed, except to say that I am just one of the ten percent of Americans that is currently being treated for depression. I wouldn't be scared to tell him if I had a heart condition, so I'm not sure why it would be too soon to tell him I have a brain condition.

Yesterday a coworker gave me this riddle by Albert Einstein and challenged me to give her the answer. After about an hour of drawing diagrams and starting over a few times, I finally solved it. I spent sixty-ish minutes telling myself that I could figure it out, but also beating myself up for it taking so long. That old familiar feeling.

I hate failing at anything. I hate it when things don't come easily, and roller derby brings out all of my insecurities more than anything else in my life. I hate it that I'm not bouting yet. I hate it that I still look like a toddler learning to walk when do a tomahawk stop.  I hate it that I still haven't passed my final endurance assessment. But I really have to take a step back and realize that the stride skills I was working on just a month ago have become second nature, and my crosses (while they still don't feel natural) are becoming more fluid, and my stance is becoming wider and stronger. So progress is being made, but it doesn't look like I expected it would look by now.

But there is no room for my insecurity on the track. There is no room for my insecurity at the gym. There is no room for my insecurity in my relationships. And it is for this reason that these three things are totally intertwined, so I guess I'll roll on.