year end catharsis
It was amazing to finally fence yesterday. It was recess- not a thought about form, technique, proper anything. It was just play and have fun. It was the best thing ever to fight with Ben too. As much as I love my troops, and who I am to them, it was so.....restorative to spend even just a few minutes with someone who knew me back when- who expected nothing but laughter from me. I remembered what it was like to feel "ok" again -what it was like to be a fencer back in the first days of it. I don't think I am using the right words to explain what I am trying to say here. It is not meant to be hurtful to anyone. I'm sorry if it is so. I love you Arin.
I've been only teacher and hostess, not fighter, for a long time- ever since my melt down at Fool's War in April. I pretty much quit fencing then. Through the whole weekend (3 tourneys) I was perpetually asked "How much to do this..." and that and the other and place orders- even as I was trying to enter the field for my bouts. Needless to say, I fought very poorly. One woman even complained about how her shirt didn't pass inspection since her cheap skate gardening gloves didn't cover up the slit at the wrist. I spent much time running back and forth between field and camp trying to do a shop quality re-do in the field. It didn't occur to me until much later that it is not my fault if one of my shirts does not jive with the rest of her kit- no more than Geoffrey needs to redo a gorget because it doesn't work with Zen Warriors mask, or that it's Brian's fault if his Darkwood rapier doesn't hang well in an Excalibur sword frog. I hated fencing. I hated fencers. I hated the SCA. Going to an event had become a miserable thing.
Kingdom A&S didn't help when the water barers left the field before the rapier touney - which the Queen attened- when it was over 90 degrees. Or that the marshals didn't announce the terms of the specialzed tourney til 2 days before the event. Then there's the constant struggle to learn and teach historical fencing techniques in, gee a historical based organization and receiving so much criticism from other fencers, of all people, for it.
And million other tiny things that piled up and made me want to hang up my sword and never look back. What kept me was my orders from Porthos to keep Arin fighting. It is his passion and purpose. My disillusionment does not justify letting down my Captain or my Don. This is duty, I suppose- a quality I thought was a good one to have. The thing is, being a teacher of everything I love means I am apparently unable to just talk about the things I love. I lecture and make people uncomfortable. Great. Give up part of myself, or be myself on other people's terms. Damned either way again.
All this on top of a summer that had me regretting every single day and every single choice of my adult life. Especially the ones where I did things against myself to live up to the expectations and ideas of my family, of a religion that does not speak to me, of society- things that made others happy, and me feel wrong for thinking the choice was wrong. I lived according to who I was made. Then I made the stupid, shameful mistakes of trying to fit in, to feel accepted for being me by being what people think I am or want me to be.
I was told I didn't act like myself when my friends stopped by at the family reunion. I wonder if it was even considered I don't act like myself when I am around my family. So I regretted trying to fit in with my siblings. I also regretted ever following my heart and taking chances and jumping on opportunities and just rolling with life to see what there was to see. I regretted growing, experiencing and changing as those experiences harmed or helped me. It seems my life of being myself and learning by doing ruined my relationship with my family, especially with Dad, something hurtful that is unreconcilable. It's good to see the family tradition of not saying anything to the person until it is too late and only chattering when they aren't around is still alive and well. I have not had reason to believe the "Oh my god! I can't believe she....." doesn't happen when I leave the room. I know it does when anyone else does. I got the post-Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner phone calls for years. I was on the patio at the reunion. In the past I was involved until I realized what a fucked up thing it is. That crap kind of makes it hard to not always be on your guard and a little nervous. It kind of makes it hard to be yourself. What was I told..."you don't celebrate other people's individuality...."? I still don't know what to do with that. I still question myself in every conversation and wondering if I am doing right by other people. I've stopped talking to anyone, even blogging, until I can practice in my head having conversations, and letting people be who they are. I'm still wondering about MY individuality and why it is not ok to be a fuck up if that is who you are.
Damned if I talk to people, damned if I don't, because then I'm being antisocial and pushing everyone away.
I was criticized for grieving with my friends at Dad's funeral, instead of with my family. My friends were grieving too and they didn't feel it proper to invade the family intimacy. Nor did they feel entirely welcome to do so. I was their connection to those late nights of tea and cake and pie with Dad just laughing along. They had loss too. How could I tell them "tough luck"? Rule #3. Truth be told, not a one of them ever made fun of me for an emotion I ever had. I know brothers and sisters just plain old do that. And it sucks.
All the crap about the power tools was, since I had be unable to touch Dad all those years, all I had was to touch the things that had passed under his fingers with the hope that an inkling of him remained behind for me to cherish. My inability to explain my grief, caused damage. Dad knew why I never called or was able to make it back to HHDS. He knew all the BS about the 13 years previous to his death. I did tell him everything that was going wrong. And how I didn't feel able to be myself on the few occasion when I did go back from a general lack of considering circumstances from other people. About how it felt like it was not OK to scared and trapped and to have things have gone to the dogs when everyone at least behaved like they thought that man I married was great. No matter what people like to think they know, if you weren't there, you don't. Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it.
I know no way to do penance to make up for disappointing Dad.
I have enough regrets on my own being a beer swilling roadie who swears like a sailor, frequently in the company of sailors, and who still loves a crazy roll in the hay. Back in the day, with most of those previously mentioned sailors.....
Damned every way.
Therapy wise, I understand now the hows and whys of the family dynamic- why my older brothers and sister took off when ever then could, even if they made me promises about card games. Things like that are unimportant to teens, but everything to 4 year olds. I get that now, and I have learned from that disappointment to be there for my boys, whether I want to do a round of "Go Fish" or not. I'm nearly over feeling that blood family will abandon you as soon as something more interesting comes along. I understand Mom's lack of interest in my minutia of being a child. There are days I will snap if I have to hear one more knock-knock joke. I have learned to make sure I kiss boo-boos. I hug my kids. Sometimes for no reason. I will never learn to play Spider solitaire.
I was very depressed when I started this catharsis. I cried through most of the way through it for being ashamed of myself. Now I'm just pissed off.
Today the cookies come first, then that tennis ball had better look out. Without all this extra weight, I feel like I can nail all the point control the world has seen to date.
I fence, I drink, I would, can and have move the stars for my darling love. I am not any kind of a lady. As Elizabeth the first said "There are 2 ways. My way or my way."
I am what I say I am. I am not what I say I am not. And I expect the same from anyone else. How's that for respecting individuality?
I've been only teacher and hostess, not fighter, for a long time- ever since my melt down at Fool's War in April. I pretty much quit fencing then. Through the whole weekend (3 tourneys) I was perpetually asked "How much to do this..." and that and the other and place orders- even as I was trying to enter the field for my bouts. Needless to say, I fought very poorly. One woman even complained about how her shirt didn't pass inspection since her cheap skate gardening gloves didn't cover up the slit at the wrist. I spent much time running back and forth between field and camp trying to do a shop quality re-do in the field. It didn't occur to me until much later that it is not my fault if one of my shirts does not jive with the rest of her kit- no more than Geoffrey needs to redo a gorget because it doesn't work with Zen Warriors mask, or that it's Brian's fault if his Darkwood rapier doesn't hang well in an Excalibur sword frog. I hated fencing. I hated fencers. I hated the SCA. Going to an event had become a miserable thing.
Kingdom A&S didn't help when the water barers left the field before the rapier touney - which the Queen attened- when it was over 90 degrees. Or that the marshals didn't announce the terms of the specialzed tourney til 2 days before the event. Then there's the constant struggle to learn and teach historical fencing techniques in, gee a historical based organization and receiving so much criticism from other fencers, of all people, for it.
And million other tiny things that piled up and made me want to hang up my sword and never look back. What kept me was my orders from Porthos to keep Arin fighting. It is his passion and purpose. My disillusionment does not justify letting down my Captain or my Don. This is duty, I suppose- a quality I thought was a good one to have. The thing is, being a teacher of everything I love means I am apparently unable to just talk about the things I love. I lecture and make people uncomfortable. Great. Give up part of myself, or be myself on other people's terms. Damned either way again.
All this on top of a summer that had me regretting every single day and every single choice of my adult life. Especially the ones where I did things against myself to live up to the expectations and ideas of my family, of a religion that does not speak to me, of society- things that made others happy, and me feel wrong for thinking the choice was wrong. I lived according to who I was made. Then I made the stupid, shameful mistakes of trying to fit in, to feel accepted for being me by being what people think I am or want me to be.
I was told I didn't act like myself when my friends stopped by at the family reunion. I wonder if it was even considered I don't act like myself when I am around my family. So I regretted trying to fit in with my siblings. I also regretted ever following my heart and taking chances and jumping on opportunities and just rolling with life to see what there was to see. I regretted growing, experiencing and changing as those experiences harmed or helped me. It seems my life of being myself and learning by doing ruined my relationship with my family, especially with Dad, something hurtful that is unreconcilable. It's good to see the family tradition of not saying anything to the person until it is too late and only chattering when they aren't around is still alive and well. I have not had reason to believe the "Oh my god! I can't believe she....." doesn't happen when I leave the room. I know it does when anyone else does. I got the post-Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner phone calls for years. I was on the patio at the reunion. In the past I was involved until I realized what a fucked up thing it is. That crap kind of makes it hard to not always be on your guard and a little nervous. It kind of makes it hard to be yourself. What was I told..."you don't celebrate other people's individuality...."? I still don't know what to do with that. I still question myself in every conversation and wondering if I am doing right by other people. I've stopped talking to anyone, even blogging, until I can practice in my head having conversations, and letting people be who they are. I'm still wondering about MY individuality and why it is not ok to be a fuck up if that is who you are.
Damned if I talk to people, damned if I don't, because then I'm being antisocial and pushing everyone away.
I was criticized for grieving with my friends at Dad's funeral, instead of with my family. My friends were grieving too and they didn't feel it proper to invade the family intimacy. Nor did they feel entirely welcome to do so. I was their connection to those late nights of tea and cake and pie with Dad just laughing along. They had loss too. How could I tell them "tough luck"? Rule #3. Truth be told, not a one of them ever made fun of me for an emotion I ever had. I know brothers and sisters just plain old do that. And it sucks.
All the crap about the power tools was, since I had be unable to touch Dad all those years, all I had was to touch the things that had passed under his fingers with the hope that an inkling of him remained behind for me to cherish. My inability to explain my grief, caused damage. Dad knew why I never called or was able to make it back to HHDS. He knew all the BS about the 13 years previous to his death. I did tell him everything that was going wrong. And how I didn't feel able to be myself on the few occasion when I did go back from a general lack of considering circumstances from other people. About how it felt like it was not OK to scared and trapped and to have things have gone to the dogs when everyone at least behaved like they thought that man I married was great. No matter what people like to think they know, if you weren't there, you don't. Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it.
I know no way to do penance to make up for disappointing Dad.
I have enough regrets on my own being a beer swilling roadie who swears like a sailor, frequently in the company of sailors, and who still loves a crazy roll in the hay. Back in the day, with most of those previously mentioned sailors.....
Damned every way.
Therapy wise, I understand now the hows and whys of the family dynamic- why my older brothers and sister took off when ever then could, even if they made me promises about card games. Things like that are unimportant to teens, but everything to 4 year olds. I get that now, and I have learned from that disappointment to be there for my boys, whether I want to do a round of "Go Fish" or not. I'm nearly over feeling that blood family will abandon you as soon as something more interesting comes along. I understand Mom's lack of interest in my minutia of being a child. There are days I will snap if I have to hear one more knock-knock joke. I have learned to make sure I kiss boo-boos. I hug my kids. Sometimes for no reason. I will never learn to play Spider solitaire.
I was very depressed when I started this catharsis. I cried through most of the way through it for being ashamed of myself. Now I'm just pissed off.
Today the cookies come first, then that tennis ball had better look out. Without all this extra weight, I feel like I can nail all the point control the world has seen to date.
I fence, I drink, I would, can and have move the stars for my darling love. I am not any kind of a lady. As Elizabeth the first said "There are 2 ways. My way or my way."
I am what I say I am. I am not what I say I am not. And I expect the same from anyone else. How's that for respecting individuality?