The Accidental Olympian

SANITY

So here's the deal. Winter and I haven't exactly been getting along lately. Winter is kind of a downer of sorts and is constantly being all, "YOU HAVE NOTHING! GIVE UP!" And I'm like, "Wow winter, you're kind of a douche canoe." And then winter bitch slaps me and I cry.

So yeah, winter is a dick.

That is until recently. This month winter decided to give me a break by giving me things like high 50's and sunny for weeks at a time. All of a sudden I can't help but be all, "Wow winter, I've never seen this side of you! Did you lose weight?" And then winter smiles and we skip off into the sunset holding hands.

 

Most recently I've found that it is fairly hard to dwell on the bitchiness of winter while you lay on warm sand. This weekend Adam and I packed the car and the dog, high-fived winter and headed to a little beach town an hour and a half from Olympia called Ocean Shores. There seems to be something about this little spec on the map that reaches inside that messy brain of mine and straightens everything out. Once this very shore gave me strength, once it provided a welcome vacation, and now, a little bit of sanity.

I don't know what it is about me and the beach, but there is nothing like the ocean to help me reflect on life and make me feel all warm and fuzzy and shit.

I assume this too shall pass.

Really though, there is nothing cuter than a boy and his kite.

Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

FIFTEEN

I am 15 again.

I am terrified of lunch break once again because it means that I have to spend another meal hiding from people, ducking into the social pariah lunch zone known as the locker room because it’s the only place my friends and I feel we might not be sneered at, or bitched at, or God forbid LOOKED AT by a more popular specimen of the high school race.

I say I'm 15 again because in all honesty, derby is the most confusing liberating awesome mind fuck of an experience I've been through in quite a while, and the emotions that have been bubbling to the surface lately feel so reminiscent of those high school years.

*****

I still leave for practice filled with nerves. Less and less nerves as the time has gone on, but nerves none the less.

I walk into the room and it’s loud, and has this very specific smell of 'rink' that I know will stick to my clothes long after I've left, and I can't help but think to myself, I like that about the rink, that I can take it home with me. There are people sitting together, apart, talking, silent, confused, confident.

I walk in, eyes scanning the group quickly, and then I take my seat. Focus on my skates, pads, helmet, don't focus on them.

Speak when spoken too.

Don’t stand out.

It's in the silence, stillness, calm where I hear it the loudest. I long to skate till my feet bleed, until my lungs feel as if filled with fire, my muscles screaming endlessly for a break if only to keep the childish voice in my head from speaking.

Don't stand out.

Each time I catch a conversation where someone whispers something evil, spiteful or derogative about another player, usually a less experienced player like myself, I feel myself grow smaller.

Don’t stand out.

But I do. I know I do. Just as we did at 15. Even in our hiding spot in the locker room we weren’t concealed completely.

I always leave with a checklist of things to do next time. Don’t correct others. Don’t act like you know what you’re talking about. Stop trying to make stupid jokes with the experienced players. Stay away from HER. Get HER to like you. Figure out why THAT one seems to hate you so much. Stop being such a little bitch and get over it.

This never ending checklist has nothing to do with my actual derby skills, and always has to do my people skills.

And yet no matter how much it terrifies or bewilders me, it also invigorates and inspires me. How can that be? How can it be possible for it to lift me up, encourage, give me strength and power, yet also dredge up some of my deepest insecurities?

Who is this scared woman I've become?

And more importantly, HOW DO I GET RID OF HER?

 Ashley, the Accidental Olympian

SOMEONE IN THIS HOUSE IS NOT PLEASED

Ahhh winter. A time for snuggling, hot coffee by the fire, boots, big sweaters, snowflakes, and if you live in the Northwest, RAIN. LOTS AND LOTS OF RAIN.

But ok, no need to bitch about it, it wasn’t a surprise when I moved here some 6 years ago. It’s not like I selected the University of Palm Springs, showed up and was all, “WTF! NOWHERE IN THE BROCHURE DID THEY MENTION 8 MONTHS OF RELENTLESS RAIN! I WANT MY MONEY BACK DAMN IT!” As I drove north with my mother for my first day of college all those years ago I knew that the first thing I needed to buy when I hit campus was a raincoat. I think they even suggest it in the UW Freshman Welcome Packet. It would have been listed under the section titled, "Out Of State Fools Who Obviously Never Appreciated The Blissful Weather They Had Growing Up In Southern California." 

But you see, Miss Oly, she didn’t really have much of a say in this whole living in the Northwest thing. She was just sort of born one day, and then adopted out by a nice couple who happen to live in Rain City USA. We welcomed her home in the spring, and spent most of her early days enjoying walks in the warm night air, and most afternoons were typically spent lounging in the backyard absorbing direct sunlight. But those days are LONG GONE my friends. Someone forgot to tell her that those months of summer bliss come fast and hot. They are so delightful and delicate so that one forgets all the tireless months of rain looming before you. They blindfold you and cause you to throw around reckless comments such as, “I love the Northwest. These summers totally make the 8 months of rain worth it!” 

Silly, silly, sunshine drunk humans.

We’ve quickly come to realize that Oly HATES the rain. Not dislikes, not prefers the summer warmth, not is kind of is impartial to rain, just a flat out HATES with her entire body and soul when water falls from the sky. This dog loves being outside, she loves walks, and she'll lose her mind if she thinks there is a chance she can run off leash. But if you grab the leash, open the door and confront her most delicateness with water falling from the heavens she will actually do an about face and sit right down and refuse to budge. In a, “Uhhh never mind. I think I’ll be ok in doors, thanks though,” sort of way that is both hugely endearing, and hugely IRRITATING.

Getting her to go to the bathroom every morning is like pulling fucking teeth. I literally have to grab her and push her outside with all my might. She’s got her head down, feet planted, ears back and she is determined to hold it in until June if she has to.

It is the most draining battle every day, multiples times a day.

Once we’ve forced her outside you have never seen a more pathetic face. She will actually stand there in the pouring rain, ears flat back on her skull, eyes squinted down to tiny little slits, standing on three legs and just glare at us. I get it Oly, it sucks to be forced to use the restroom outside in the cold and the pouring rain. I would probably boycott peeing too if I was forced to pee in the frigid morning storms but come on dog, these are the rules, GET USED TO IT.

I’m just waiting for the day I come home from work to find her things gone and a note where her dog bed used to be that reads,

Dear A-Hole and Butt-Face,

I can’t take this horrible weather another moment. After scouring Craiglist I’ve finally selected a lovely family in Phoenix who are willing to provide me with the sort of environment I crave. I’m eternally sorry this arrangement didn’t work out for both of us.

Best of luck to you both, and enjoy the rain, you water rats.

Sincerely,

Sunshine

P.S. I’ve changed my name to Sunshine because I refuse to be associated with such an inhospitable place such as Olympia, WA with all its disgusting rain for even a moment longer. I'm still amazed you ever thought that Oly, an abbreviation for OLYMPIA-the-Land-of-Rain-and-Hell was an appropriate name for me in the first place. 

P.S.S. I took the liberty of finding you a dog more suited to the requirements of this climate. His name is Flipper. He’s a truly charming Portuguese Water Dog and I think the match will be much better suited for all parties. He will be moving in this week. I believe you'll have a beautiful life together.

P.S.S.S. You people suck and I hate you.

CHRISTMAS LESSONS

I really hope your Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/Boxing Day/WinterSolstice/You Have The Whole Weekend Off Anyway From Work So Why Don’t You Have Another Drink weekend was fantabulous. Mine was brought to you by twenty degree weather, amazing cocktails, reading, light snow, hot tub soaks, sleeping in, midday naps, walks with puppies, afternoon movies, and FOOD.

I went into this weekend terrified, filled with grief, and excited out of my mind.

I know, conflicted much?

****

In the end I learned a lot of odd things about myself as a result of being a total douche canoe and canceling Christmas with my family some 20 odd days before they were supposed to arrive on my doorstep. One of which being that I might not be as strong as I would like to believe.

When I lost my job last December everyone was so confident in me and my abilities. Hell, so was I at first. Over drinks a week or so into my job search friends joked about how I should be thrilled I was laid off in December because now I had a month long Christmas break, and by February I would be back in the workforce dreaming of those glorious days of unemployment.

We all clinked glasses to my sudden fortune.

When things seemed unlikely to get better any time soon the positivity regarding my ability to handle this life hurdle continued to pour in.

"You'll find something. I have faith in you."
"They would be idiots not to hire you."
"Think of the adventure! You can start a new career!"
"I'm proud of how mature you're being with this whole sudden change. I would be losing my mind."
“Think of all the free time. Cherish this.”


And in most respects I WAS being mature and strong, and I was wearing fucking rose colored glasses about the fact that one day I was headed on a very specific career path, and then all of a sudden I wasn't, and suddenly I was moving to a city I had never visited, to buy a house, and get a dog, and try to find a new job/career, and OMG I HAVE NO FRIENDS, and hello boyfriend, nice to live with you all of a sudden!

God, when I write it all out it really has been the longest mind fuck year, ever.



BUT, I have done it. And yes there have been some serious meltdowns, and confusion, and soul sucking disappointment, and days where I curse this whole roller coaster I went on unwillingly. But I also have these moments where I'm like,  “Look at me, finally finding a job, making new friends, buying a house, raising a puppy, pushing myself to try new scary things like roller derby, loving living with my boyfriend, and being a strong healthy ADULT! Gold Star!”

Yet as much as I want to pat myself on the back for handling what at times feels like a mess of epic proportions, I am also finding that I am so very fragile inside. A friend of mine remarked recently that she has never in her life known me to be so damn tearful. I cry constantly, I require propping up and excessive amounts of coddling, my feelings are hurt so very easily, and the confidence that I once carried around proudly slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes is now this tiny lump of coal I casually store in my back pocket.

I wanted so badly to continue to be this strong amazing adult woman through this year like everyone believes I am. The sort of woman who buys a home like it's no big deal, has people at her house for Thanksgiving without batting an eyelash, who invites her family for lengthy Christmas breaks, and the kind of woman who looks at life and all its struggles and fucking laughs in its face.

I did. I wanted to be her so much.

But, I don't think I am.

Just yet.


This year I messed up because I realized I wasn't that strong woman far too late in the game. I revealed to my family the reality of my weaknesses and my desire to be coddled and cared for too close to their visit. I cut them so very deeply because no one had time to process the things I was admitting, the reality that I didn't have the strength to be the center piece, and until I said it out loud they might not have even guessed I was struggling. For that I will always be so very sorry.

When it was all said and done and I was sitting in Bend, OR decompressing after the longest year of my life with Adam's family, two states away from my own family, I finally realized something.

No matter how sorry I may be for hurting them, I don't have to be sorry for being weak.

Not this year.

I KNOW THIS IS PROBABLY GETTING OLD, BUT I CAN'T STOP

The Arctic temperatures have officially vacated the Northwest, but I felt it was my duty to share the last batch of images I gathered before the ice melted. I know this is getting a tad old what with all the pictures of frozen things, but what can I say, I'm originally from California. This is what happens when you grow up somewhere that the temperature never dips below 60 degrees. You morph into this person who is fascinated, and borderline obsessive when water freezes all over your world. But come on, even if you also live in a land where frozen water particles fall from the sky I bet you can see why I had to take this picture.

It's like all those childhood craft projects cutting out paper snowflakes come to life. They always told us tan Californian children that this is what a snowflake looked like, but only half had probably ever seen this sort of delicate natural artistry in real life. 

After I'd discovered the tiny ice snowflakes I went about my day. While driving home I looked to my right as I always do and suddenly I played a little game with myself called, 'What about this picture isn't right?' And the answer was most definitely, 'Capital Lake'. Capital Lake, for all the non-Olympians is the lake sitting at the bottom of the Puget Sound where the Deschutes River meets the ocean, essentially. They culminate in the most picturesque location showcasing the Washington State Capital Building.

I am pretty sure that the sight of this entire lake freezing over was shocking for even the born and raised Olympians because the park was full of gape mouthed locals wielding cameras. We all wandered around in wonder to see this well loved landmark strikingly altered.

And just in case you think my awe is misplaced, here is how thick the ice was on the water. I mean, this lake wasn't covered in ice, it was covered in ICE. There's a difference.

The most amazing part wasn't the completely frozen lake, or even the fact that the sun was at its most perfect level between daylight and sunset, casting that warm glow on the world that basically screams TAKE PICTURES NOW, no. It was the deep violent cracks in the ice. Cracks that exposed just how thick the ice was, and how destructive this storm has been to our landscape. At one point the woman next to me gasped. When I asked her what was the matter she told me to listen. Sure enough those giant slabs of ice were cracking. It sounded as if the lake was moaning in pain. It was such a beautiful pain though.

I loved these swirls I found carved into the ice. They made me imagine bubbles trying desperately to escape to the surface before the freeze, and being trapped halfway to the top.

 

This is already a majestic sight, but there is something about the severity of ice that has the ability to increase the beauty of even the most familiar of sights tenfold.