Stages of Derby Retirement: Anger
Part three of my series on retiring from roller derby. Same disclaimer as my post on Isolation/Depression applies. I promise the next entry is much more positive. This is just chronicling my emotional journey. Also, “My Emotional Journey” is the name of my Brand New cover band.
As I stated in my post on isolation/depression, I felt invisible without my skates. And that started getting to me. These women were supposed to be my friends, my sisters. And I felt like I was nothing to them anymore. I didn’t take long for that sadness to turn into anger.
Anger over having a booth at a bout and only a few skaters coming over to say “Hi.”
Anger over being at that same bout and saying “hi” to people to be ignored.
Anger over going to help paint the practice space and people literally walking through without a word. Or ignoring me when I spoke to them.
Anger over coming over to a group of skaters and being ignored.
I am not an angry person by nature. Hypersensitive? Yes. But angry? No. So I didn’t know how to deal with being pissed off all the time. It started festering and growing. Little things that normally wouldn’t have bothered me started bothering me. Things like not being able to sell 15 shirts to a league of over sixty skaters. Being ignored when out around the city.
It was bad.
Since I’ve started writing this series, I’ve heard similar stories from across the derbyverse. Many people never leave the anger stage. They’re still hurt, and they’re still upset. They won’t attend bouts, because why support something you’ve grown to loathe?
Seeing this anger in the community, and how long it had been held onto, I realized I couldn’t live like that. So I took my anger, and I started molding it into ideas. Ideas that would make it so others wouldn’t have to go through this. Ways to help leagues and retired skaters stay on good terms. But, that’s another post altogether…
Wow, this post makes your former teammates sound like a bunch of jerks! Although, if you’re already angry, maybe that anger is clouding your judgment. You probably remember what it’s like to bout — being anxious all day, mulling over what you need to accomplish on the track and wondering if you brought the right wheels. I know on bout day, I tend to be a little withdrawn — heck, I’m certainly not out looking for everyone I know
and saying hello to them. But that’s just me.
I love the familiarity of tiny derby leagues that are just getting started. There’s just so much camaraderie when you’ve only got a handful of league members. But as a league grows, it becomes harder to develop and maintain personal relationships. I don’t know if you’ve heard of The Dunbar Number, but it’s a theory that a person can maintain at most 150
meaningful relationships. So in a league of 50 or 60 people, it’s
probably unlikely that everyone’s going to be equally chummy with
each other. And who knows — maybe people think you’re mad at them
and are trying to give you some space. Just throwing out some ideas
here.
It’s too bad that you felt “invisible” without your skates. I’ve felt something similar before when I’ve taken time off, but no one forced me to take time off. I think what I was feeling was the lack of a team dynamic, and that happens when any skater stops practicing with her teammates.
Anyway, it’s too bad that your experience left you with such a negative impression. Although, if what you want is more closeness with your former teammates, I’m not sure a post like this, shared on multiple social platforms (like LinkedIn, where your teammates may be looking for jobs) is the best approach. Again, though, that’s just my opinion as someone who has survived a great deal of derby drama in the past five years.
ME,
You are 100% correct in stating that my anger was clouding my judgement. I even admit so in the post. Stupid things that normally I wouldn’t have thought twice about really started gnawing at me.
And yes, I do remember the stress of bout day. But I also remember talking to my friends and family before or after I had played. I’m not asking for much, just a “hey” back when I said hello. Again, like was admitted, I was angry and these things bothered me more than would have other wise.
This whole series (which is not yet complete) is about my personal struggle. A struggle I feel like isn’t talked about. There are multiple retired skaters who don’t even attend bouts because they hurt. This isn’t a problem with our league or any league in particular, but derby culture as a whole.
So why am I talking about it so publicly? Because we (as a sport) don’t talk about it at all. We talk about emotions around putting on skates for the first time, of bouting, but not about it all ending. I’m hoping by talking about it we can start to change.
As for posting on multiple networks, and those skaters looking for jobs, the only name attached to this post is mine. I don’t mention anyone in particular or give details that may point to who they are. I feel if anyone were to be affected job search wise by this it would be me. It would be something along the lines of not being as much of a team player as I could be.
I am sorry you are hurt by what I have written. And I hope you do stick with the series as I conclude and it gets positive again.
Actually, yes, I was hurt by what you said. After sleeping on it, though, I just think what you wrote was unfair to people who don’t deserve to be portrayed as mean-spirited. It’s somewhat ironic, since you’re the person who feels wronged, but your post seems like attack on people. Anyway, good luck with your blog. I obviously need to stop reading it, if I’m going to allow myself to get stressed out about your observations.