I thought that big things happening in your life meant that little things, like 175 grams of plastic, became less important. Instead I’ve learned that those big things just amplify how much those little things mean to me. I know it sounds kind of lame, but I woke up early this morning really, really excited for fall league. I was FINALLY semi-cleared for physical activities and it was a gorgeous Saturday morning. (Not to mention I haven’t been to league at all yet and I’ll show up to the tournament talking about “I don’t know if anyone told you about me. I’m a new student here.” and they’ll be all “Talk to me again and I’ll kick your ass.”) I was on my way out the door when it happened, and it was like reliving a nightmare I never thought I would ever have to revisit.
I texted a teammate (one of the four that I know on my team, lols) to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to make it, and immediately I felt my heart sinking. (Before anyone tries to clown me, it’s not that I wasn’t already worried or disheartened. It was something I didn’t expect to feel or even think about.) I can’t really explain it, y’know? The realization that I wasn’t going to play made me feel more … vulnerable, is the best word I can think of.
I began to miss running (gross), and I missed that moment of acceleration when you realize the thrower has committed to your girl. I missed the certainty of catching with two hands (Thanks, Thor) and feeling the plastic against my palms, the familiar little flourish I give the disc and all of a sudden it’s perched between my ring and middle fingers, ready for a flick. Familiar motions. Muscle memory, I guess. There’s something very comforting in that. When something in ultimate upsets me — playing poorly, being down in a game, etc. etc. — I revert to those familiar motions. I go back to what I know and concentrate on doing them well, building up to something bigger and better, hoping that by doing the little things right my game will pick up as I go. Whenever I start to feel like I’m not happy playing anymore, I throw with someone and I’m reminded of why I got into the sport in the first place — it’s just really fun. When something in life upsets or scares me, I also go back to those familiar things. I go throw in an empty field for a bit, or I throw with someone and I get to laugh. The world lightens up a bit, and my shoulders feel a little less heavy, even if they’re a little more sore.
It’s been a very strange time. This blog probably isn’t the place for it though, so I won’t word vomit about it too much. I’ve never felt so unstable in my life, and we’re including the early part of high school, my sophomore year of college, and my senior year too (which, if you must know: YIKES). I find that my disposition oscillates from being extremely excited and happy about the direction my life is taking to feeling like I’ve been sleepwalking down to the lake and waking up in the water (if I may borrow from this post’s title inspiration). It’s draining and it’s confusing and it leaves me feeling more alone than ever. And today was one of those days where I felt like I had woken up at the bottom of the lake again. AGAIN, I know it sounds like the dumbest thing you’ve probably ever read/heard, but without my safe, familiar motions, I felt scared and frustrated and even angry. Ultimate, I miss you, old friend. I’m so fortunate to have you in my life, and I never thought something so silly could mean so much to me. Obviously, today put a lot of things in perspective, and ultimate probably isn’t even in the top three of My Most Important Things In Life, but I realized that it meant a whole lot more to me than I thought. It’s probably something I’ll think/write more about some other time, when I feel like I’ve properly regained my mental and emotional footing.
To be honest, though, I’ve just missed you guys a lot (Note: Check this out, here I use “you guys” like those of you who read my blogs are my frands and we’re totally hanging out when you come through here to read). I apologize for my absence here. A friend once told me that she hated whenever I wrote because it usually meant that I was depressed or angry about something or the other, which: yikes, great read, friend. 4srsly tho, before this morning happened I was actually already working on a post detailing my club season, and I’m planning something about Club Nats (because you all care what some d-bag who finished sixth at Regionals thinks about what happens with the best teams in the country, obviously), so, I’ll be around. But in the meantime, excuse me while I go have some cries with my only friends Sufjan and Elliott in the corner. *foghorn* (Despite what I did with this post, Jenny can come too, but she has to leave Johnny at home. Douchebag.)
(But seriously in the meantime, though, if you believe in them, please say a prayer. If you don’t, send up a good thought.)
