Blog Archives

Mean Girls

I have had one of those full-circle moments that I want to share with all of you, I will try to tell this tale as concisely as is possible for me to do (read:  not possible at all, this will in all likelihood ramble!).  So, here it goes:

Yesterday was my birthday, a glorious day from beginning to end.  Lots of well wishes, shopping, eating, merriment, presents.  I couldn’t ask for anything more, and I am one who LOVES my birthday.  A heart-felt thanks to all who helped make it so special.  But, back to the story:  in the middle of the day, I attended a basketball game for my daughter’s middle school varsity team.  I am specifying, because she is also on a travel basketball team, and has been for the past 5 years.  But the team I watched yesterday is a school league, and varsity at that.  So for the non-sports-inclined readers (a club for which I could be the President), varsity teams take themselves very seriously, and if you are not the best of the best, your role will be primarily to sit on the bench and cheer for your team mates.  And so, with the exception of about 45 seconds, I got to watch my daughter cheer her team mates on (to a huge loss, might I add, and I could write a separate post on my opinion of the coach’s decisions).

So, not the most fun hour of the day.  Meanwhile, I sat next to a parent whom I have known for years.  Her daughter, who was very close friends with my daughter in elementary school (please note the tense of the verb in this sentence), falls into the category (at least according to their coach) of “the best of the best,” played the whole time (and, please remember, we had a stunning loss at the end of this game).  By no means would I say that this mother and I are friends, at least not by my definition of the word, but we have always been friendly, and, as I said, we have known each other for years.  She is the type of woman who I like to think of as a “back door bragger.”  What I mean by this is that she is the type to speak in a self-deprecating way, but her real goal is to sneak an accolade in the back door.  For example, she is ostensibly telling the story of how she had to put her foot down with her daughter, but through the course of telling the story she “slipped in” how she stayed for an hour after practice to help decorate the locker of another player.  I’m sure you know the type.  Not really the point of the story, but I wanted to set up the backdrop for what is coming.

At the conclusion of the game for which her daughter played the entire time (And did I mention we had a huge loss?  I’m not sure if I brought that up yet or not), she turned to me and said, “I feel so bad for Reilly (my daughter).  She is certainly one of the better players in the second string, and she just has no one to play to, so she must be frustrated.”

Honestly, I’m not sure what I said to that, in the actual moment.  As I recall the story, it is enshrouded in the red haze of rage, but I’m sure I was polite and switched topics, and we left the game cordially.

I will get back to this, but there is more to tell to get to the full-circle moment.  During my kid’s dinner I am speaking with my daughter, who is understandably frustrated by the coach’s decision not to switch players out, particularly when we are losing so badly.  She remarks to me that had she known it would be like this, she would have quit the team.

Okay, fast forward a couple of hours.  I have what qualifies is my mind as the ultimate in luxurious evenings:  a night out, with my husband, at a romantic restaurant, fireplace roaring right behind us, delicious food, and a couple of hours of uninterrupted conversation.  We got to talk about everything and nothing, and it was glorious.  The kind of night that, had you told me a few years ago would be possible without the aid of a few bottles of wine, I would have thought impossible.  Miraculous!

Through the course of the evening, we are talking about my daughter, and how we worry that her innocence and silliness might be a detriment to her as she approaches High school.  My position is that, although her maturity may be on the lower end for girls her age, why are we wishing it away?  The good far outweighs the bad, at least from the parental perspective.  And I tick off the various ways that we are so blessed to have a child so innocent and pure of heart at the age of 13:  we do not have to worry about alcohol consumption, sexual situations, or any of the other craziness that often comes with the age.  Now, that may all change tomorrow, but for now, why not celebrate the blessings, rather than fret about the possible downfalls?

We move on to my description of the basketball game, and I share the story of what the woman said to me.  My husband knows her just as well, he is the coach of the travel league, and this woman’s daughter has been on this same team with him for the past 5 years.  He is also offended by her comment, and we talk about it at length.

The night moves on, I come home and have yet another birthday celebration with my children, more presents, more merriment.  The night comes to a close, and we go to bed.

I had a fitful night’s sleep (now this may also have to do with quality and quantity of the celebratory food I ate, but that will have to wait for another post!), and I woke up and recalled the disturbing dreams I had, and I realized that I am really bothered by this whole basketball thing.  So at breakfast I sat down with my daughter and husband, and we talked at length about her feelings of frustration, and I tried to show her a new way of looking at the situation.  Rather than think it’s a waste, see it an opportunity to learn, the physical activity, the team bonding, and the ability to improve her game for her travel team.  My husband speaks more to the competitive side of sports, and points out this is a realistic progression as she gets older.  She leaves for school, I feel better, but still have some low-level agitation.  I speak to my husband about it, he suggests I write about it.  I say, “Great idea, but I need to figure out what I’m upset about before I can write about it.”

So I take some time and sit and puzzle out what’s not yet resolved for me.  And then I have my eureka moment:  what I’m still bothered about is my reaction, or lack thereof, to that woman’s offensive comments.  Why did I not respond in some way to her comments that Reilly is second string?

So I explore further… what did I initially think when she said it?  And the honest truth of it is this:  in the moment, I had an inkling that what she was saying was offensive, but my naive mind thought, “No, it couldn’t be, no one would say anything like that to your face.  You must be misunderstanding.”  Sounds so idiotic, but that’s the truth.  My own “innocence,” as it were, refused to believe that someone would be snarky like that for no real reason.

And I am frustrated as hell with myself that I did not catch it quicker, and did not handle the situation better.  I feel like a chump.

But I can’t write, “I feel like a chump,” I need to find some kind of solution, or at least a different way of looking at things, before I can write about it.  And I get quiet again to think where the progression of this post could go.  And I have my second eureka moment:  I flash back to the conversation I had with my husband last night about my daughter.  How I said that yes, it can be frustrating when she is silly and goofy and immature, especially in comparison to other 13-year-old girls, but the good far outweighs the bad, so celebrate the blessings.

So it is with me.  My naiveté is known far and wide within my circle of family and friends, there are humorous tales of my innocence that have been in circulation for years.  I guess the apple does not fall far from the tree, in terms of my daughter.  So I can get frustrated with myself for not picking up faster that this woman is an adult version of a mean girl, and for not being quicker on the draw with a comeback (or at the very least defending my daughter, but really what I wanted to do was give her a little dose of her own medicine and point out that the first string LOST THE GAME), or I can be grateful that my mind does not work that way, that I am more inclined to think of the good, rather than cynically waiting for the bad.

I am a work in progress on this one.  That last eureka moment only happened a short while ago, and I am already wanting to slide back down the rabbit hole of beating myself up, and coming up with all the zingers I wished I had had at the ready yesterday.  But at least I had the eureka moment, and I can talk back to those insecure feelings!

Today’s Miracle:

That I am blessed with this blogging community, which gives me the ability to work through mental challenges.  If not for this blog, I would still be sitting in agitation, and not have the outlet to work through it!

Advertisements
losing anonymously

Learning to balance healthy and happy while living a full and busy life!

Oh for the love of...me

Just another 50+ woman trying to get her shit together.

Guitars and Life

Blog about life by a music obsessed middle aged recovering alcoholic from South East England

Off-Dry

I got sober. Life got big.

HealthyJenn

From daily wine drinker to alcohol free living...this is my journey.

themessyjessytruth.wordpress.com/

The emotional messy stuff...

Vodka Goggles

No longer seeing the world through vodka colored glasses..

Pickled Fish

Musings on life and sobriety

Mindfulbalance

An Irish Mindfulness Meditation Blog: Finding calm, wellness, meaning and a happier life.

viatoday

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Starting today I am on my way.

ainsobriety

Trying to ace sober living

Emotional Sobriety And Food

"... to be able to Twelfth Step ourselves and others into emotional sobriety" -- living, loving & letting go.

girl gone sober.

a blog about living sober. i didn't always drink beer but when i did i drank a lot of it. stay sober my friends.

The Sober Garden

Jettisoning the heavy stuff...