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…