I was never meant to play volleyball. But that didn't mean I had to be a bitch about it.
I began my illustrious career on the private school junior high team where everyone who showed up
got to play. We went against the same 3 other private schools over and over and I don't remember anything except that we had cool cheers and Laura St. Marie had really cold hands when she high fived. That was enough to make me sign up for the freshman team my first year at Kennedy.
I began my illustrious career on the private school junior high team where everyone who showed up got to play. We went against the same 3 other private schools over and over and I don't remember anything except that we had cool cheers and Laura St. Marie had really cold hands when she high fived. That was enough to make me sign up for the freshman team my first year at Kennedy.
Joining volleyball sounded like a good way to make friends, especially since practices would be in August, before school actually started. I got to meet a group of moderately athletic girls who didn't know each other and we were forced to be friends. Friendship by force is my favorite kind of friendship. Some of those girls are still my best friends to this day, but that would be the high point of my time in the sport.
Freshman year, 14 and nerdy coming from a private school to the public, I was still deciding my what my new public school persona should be and somehow - despite not having cable and being a generally happy person - I landed on Daria, the dark sarcastic MTV teen. It wasn't me, but "me" was a dork and I had to be whatever the opposite of what was, so, I committed to apathy and a very, like, ya know, whatever attitude. Apparently, coaches hate this kind of vibe (source: have since coached many small assholes like my-then-self).
On the occasions that I DID show effort, I was rude or frustrated in the most dramatic of ways that, at one point, got me pulled from a game. I served the ball and it hit the net (because of course, practicing was for nerds) and I yelled and slammed my hands on the ground like a stubborn ape. Jen, the pretty 20-something coach who lived and breathed volleyball, was already halfway sick of my shit from my back talking and feigned asthma during laps, so she pulled me rather than reprimand me again. I'd go the rest of the season spreading the rumor that she was sleeping with the Varsity coach, and calling her an uptight bitch behind her back.
I finished the season not much better than when I started, with a handful of friends, but a bunch of coaches who thought I was a snotty teen they were glad to be done with.
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Fast forward to Sophomore year B Squad tryouts and all my friends were back in August to go out for the team. Between the end of the freshman season and the August before 10th grade, I had dated 2 older guys and lost my virginity to one of them. I acquired a real job and had picked up smoking. I had a drivers permit and a reputation. My attitude was not any better, but in fact, it was worse because it had some real anger and sadness behind it, not just fill in the blanks of "what would Daria do?" But I wanted to hang out with my friends to rehash the drama of the previous summer, so I eyerolled and whined my way from missing serves to coming in last during sprints all through tryouts, yet somehow I was SHOCKED that my name wasn't on any rosters and I was cut from the team.
To be fair, I was shocked because they only cut 2 people: me, and a girl who signed up and didn't come to tryouts. This was a very intentional "fuck you" from the coaches as I'm sure they had no desire to put up with me for another season. Before anyone could look beyond their own name, I left the gym with angry tears that came out while I biked to work, and decided to tell people I quit this stupid league and that I didn't want to play for that uptight bitch, anyways.
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As my kids enter their teen years, I'm trying so hard to channel who I was and remember why I was awful when I was. Because truly, I was the worst for a while there.
And every time I wonder why I did something bad when I knew better, it's because I felt so lost. It was like we were all in a play, but someone forgot to give me the script, and I was mad at everyone for being the only one who looked stupid on stage. I kept hoping I'd just fall into the thing I was supposed to be doing, the thing where everything was easy and I was the best person in the room - volleyball or choir or softball or a class or anything. But everywhere I went, there was someone better, more natural, more talented, and as soon as it got hard or I wasn't "as good as," I told myself this wasn't the thing, sabotage it and keep looking.
But in my search for "the thing," you know what I found ACTUALLY got me attention from the whole room - being a braces wearing round-faced kid and smoking a cigarette. Being the first, and for a long time ONLY one from my friend group who was having sex. Taking my car out at 15 while Mom was at her second job and cruising past my friends on bikes to show off. Cutting my wrists and poorly hiding them with Hot Topic bracelets and thumb sleeves. For a while, I was the best at being shocking and it fed that need to be the best a lot easier than trying to figure out what no one told me to do.
In entering the teens years as a parent, I am cognizant to tell my teens that they are seen, they are exactly where they need to be, and they are doing exactly what they should be doing. Even screwing up and failing and getting in trouble is EXACTLY what you should be doing as you grow and learn. And if they feel lost or behind everyone else, it's important to know that we all feel that way sometimes and that comparison is the thief of joy. We are learning - together - to be grateful for what we have, happy with where we are, and content with whatever comes next.
Sidenote: Apologies to Coach Jen - who I wish could have known me at any other time in my life to know I'm not the worst. To my mom, and literally anyone else who had to deal with me, thanks for getting me out of the teens alive.
--
As my kids enter their teen years, I'm trying so hard to channel who I was and remember why I was awful when I was. Because truly, I was the worst for a while there.
And every time I wonder why I did something bad when I knew better, it's because I felt so lost. It was like we were all in a play, but someone forgot to give me the script, and I was mad at everyone for being the only one who looked stupid on stage. I kept hoping I'd just fall into the thing I was supposed to be doing, the thing where everything was easy and I was the best person in the room - volleyball or choir or softball or a class or anything. But everywhere I went, there was someone better, more natural, more talented, and as soon as it got hard or I wasn't "as good as," I told myself this wasn't the thing, sabotage it and keep looking.
But in my search for "the thing," you know what I found ACTUALLY got me attention from the whole room - being a braces wearing round-faced kid and smoking a cigarette. Being the first, and for a long time ONLY one from my friend group who was having sex. Taking my car out at 15 while Mom was at her second job and cruising past my friends on bikes to show off. Cutting my wrists and poorly hiding them with Hot Topic bracelets and thumb sleeves. For a while, I was the best at being shocking and it fed that need to be the best a lot easier than trying to figure out what no one told me to do.
In entering the teens years as a parent, I am cognizant to tell my teens that they are seen, they are exactly where they need to be, and they are doing exactly what they should be doing. Even screwing up and failing and getting in trouble is EXACTLY what you should be doing as you grow and learn. And if they feel lost or behind everyone else, it's important to know that we all feel that way sometimes and that comparison is the thief of joy. We are learning - together - to be grateful for what we have, happy with where we are, and content with whatever comes next.
Sidenote: Apologies to Coach Jen - who I wish could have known me at any other time in my life to know I'm not the worst. To my mom, and literally anyone else who had to deal with me, thanks for getting me out of the teens alive.
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