Welcome to my (apparently, quarterly) update.
Not going to lie. It's been tough recently. I feel like I'm one of those circus performers who has a million plates spinning on sticks way up in the air. Once one tips over, they wack 10 more on the ground. Only I don't think I was quite aware of how precariously placed my plates were until very recently. This is a tough one to write about. A few months ago, I got in a rather terrible fight with someone very near and dear to me. I shared some athletic achievements that I was rather proud of at the time. And when they didn't react how I was hoping they would. In fact, they made a "joke" that I took quite harshly, all my plates fell to the ground. The comment festered, and it just wouldn't stop being played in my head. Over. And over. And over. And over. It's like my biggest personal preoccupation about my athletic abilities were verbalized. And not by myself, but by someone else very close to me, only confirming my fears. With the help of some medication, the festering has become more of a quiet nag in the back of my head that becomes louder in certain situations. Situations like writing this blog post right now. In an odd way, I think COVID-19 has been healthy for me. While obviously global pandemics are terrible, it has given me a much needed break from life in DC. As much as I hate to admit it, rowing has been the most stressful part of my life. I feel so behind. I feel behind in other senses in that I have friends buying houses and getting married and owning things like cars...I know...crazy stuff. But the thing that bothers me the most that I'm most behind on is rowing. I think I thought I was doing pretty well and felt like I was a stable, functioning human being. Finally coming to terms with the madness that is DC rowing. But then someone made a comment that just completely wrecked me. And I don't think I nor the person who made the comment knew how fragile I was. Don't get me wrong. It was an offensive as fuck comment. But maybe it shouldn't have caused a nearly weeks (months?) long mental breakdown. I went in for my oncology check-up. All good cancer-wise. Doc thinks I'm suffering from PTSD. My primary care doc thinks I'm suffering from depression. My newly found therapist thinks none of the above? So I'm thoroughly confused, but at least I'm getting help, right? As someone who has never struggled with their mental health before, navigating this all has just added a whole new layer of stres . Rant: Backing up a bit. Rowing stresses me out. And it doesn't help that I've been rowing at probably one of the more messed up boat clubs to row at in the US. Allow me to be pessimist but with a point for a few seconds at the risk of alienating myself from of the oldest and most respected rowing communities in the world. Because it may prevent another young sculler moving to DC believing that they can row when that is just utterly not the case. Let me lay it out for you. I would say a pretty basic requirement of a rowing club is that you can row there. Technically, non-members are only permitted to be at the boathouse for practice which is 6 days per week in the Spring, Summer, and Fall and 3 days per week during the winter. This is while non-members wait on a years long wait list. How do non-members get off of said wait list to become a full members? Well, we either wait for people to become social members, move out of DC or...WAIT FOR CURRENT MEMBERS TO DIE. Not even a joke though. While on said wait list, non-members must pay just under $2000/year to participate in a competitive program. May I mention that most other high caliber boat clubs in the country have young adult membership dues to account for being, well...a young adult desperately trying to get their feet planted on the ground (like yours truly). On top of it all, non-members are not ever permitted to use a boathouse single. (When I say non-members, I mean what the club refers to as competitive members which one senior member, aka full member so kindly mansplained to me. Surprisingly, that wasn't even close to the worst mansplain received at the club in which...well...an old white male explained to me how terribly difficult chemo is immediately after being told that I had had cancer. I digress...) Now you ask why don't you go somewhere else? Unlike cities like Philadelphia which is teeming with boat clubs, when one boat club is being an ass, you can't just hop right next door to another nationally recognized club. So here I am, almost happy that coronavirus shut down the club and the university because it gives me a mental break from the madness and politics that is DC. And a chance (or at least feeling like I have a chance) to catch up to the rest of the world. I know that sounds crazy, but that's what it feels like. I'm back at my parents' place, looking for a rowing opportunity once the storm calms down away from DC, the city I was so anxious to get back to last year. I love my grad school program and the people in it, but the fact that I'm considering quitting so I don't ever have to go back to that club is quite frankly insane. And not insane on my part, but insane that a rowing could be so political to drive someone to make such a radical life change. Rant over. For now. I feel like these thoughts have been floating around my head for the past year and just festering my brain -- rotting away my mental health little by little. And the comment I mentioned at the beginning of this long ass post was just the tipping point for me. In general, I like to think I'm a positive person, but lately, I have not been. And that's just not me. Here's to hoping my frustrations being published on the world wide web may spark change. (Although, I have to say I feel rather naive for even thinking that's possible. And not a Here Emma, you can borrow my boat kind of change. But real change, where a boat club doesn't treat young people like shit to profit off them for older members to enjoy the club.) And here's to having a more positive attitude. Hoping the change of scenery helps me make that adjustment. (I'm sure the board will be thrilled I'm far away from their club and their city should they ever lay their eyes on this post.) I just want to say how incredible the PEOPLE are who the club has connected me with. It really isn't all bad. Just the politics are. I won't name names (just because I don't want to bring anyone down with me), you know who you are...you are my sanity. The Women's Sweep Team who I trained with over the Winter are a force to be reckoned with. They provide opportunities for young adult women to not only row big boats and be freaking fast, but also to bond with a strong group of women under the helm of some pretty boss captains and their ever charismatic and fantastic technical coach. (They also have a real idea of what community outreach looks like, unlike the definition the board seems to go by, but that's an issue for another time.) The sculling team has provided me with an outlet to row and learn from some of the best rowers in the country. Legit. People with top 5 finishes at HOCR, PanAm medals, the works. And coaching from one of the kindest humans on the planet with a phenomenal ability to provide encouragement and constructive feedback at the same time. It's no wonder I'm so peeved I'm not allowed to row at the club more often. Now on top of rowing, let's add trying to keep my grades at or above an A- average to keep my scholarship and stipend, a rather tumultuous (yet at the same time non-existant...how is that even possible?) love life, a global pandemic with a brother with asma and a dad over 70, moving back in with my parents (again), and about to be kicked off of my mom's health insurance when I had cancer not even 1.5 years ago, you could say I'm dealing with some shit. (Did I miss anything??) I've had exactly one appointment with my therapist, so now I get to tell her about all the self-destructive behavior I engaged in by sharing this with you all. While this isn't the most fun, uplifting post I've ever written, it's helped to know that I'm not the only one who is struggling with mental health...especially other people in the cancer club. I think there's this stereotype that you should just be grateful that you're alive when you're a cancer survivor and those incredible humans who can have an excessively positive outlook are advertised to be the norm. But I think it's lot more complicated than that. It's ok to feel sad and angry and behind if you're a survivor of any age. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
1 Comment
Ann Tierney
5/26/2020 04:24:33 am
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AuthorI'm Emma. I love food more than anyone will ever understand - specifically cheese, chocolate, bread and pretty much every fat & carb combo you can think of - apple cider donuts, ice cream, the list goes on. Fats and carbs just go so well together. Don't you think? Why is it that when I'm tasked to describe myself, I always talk about food? Anywho, I'm a grad student and rower training studying and training in DC. Here's to having no free time and loving every minute of it (jk...I'll tell you the bad stuff too)! Archives
July 2020
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