Why Should Some Kid Get a Medal for "Just Showing Up?"

Why?

"Why," you ask, "should a kid get an award for just showing up?"

Because sometimes just showing up takes a lot of guts.  Sometimes gearing yourself up for the possibility of defeat takes everything in you.

Speaking as someone who was a shy, fat, uncoordinated child who heard my share of moaning and groaning from my classmates when my name was called during Phys. Ed, just showing up can be fraught.

Speaking also as someone who deals with anxiety, as many people do, putting yourself into new situations is some scary shit, for children and adults alike.

In Grade 8, I made the decision to try out for the school's volleyball team. I tell you, it took every ounce of courage for me to go into that gym.

I went and I tried my hardest. Not even halfway through the tryouts I could feel tears of frustration welling up in my eyes, with every ball that I instinctively ducked instead of passed.  My face went red with the effort of trying not to cry.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't make the team.  I don't think I was even remotely close because I was really, really, bad at volleyball.  I also kind of hated it.  But I wanted to be involved in something.

I felt like a spectacular failure, and it was many years before I tried out or participated in anything remotely competitive again.

I kind of wish, at that time, that someone had given me something to acknowledge that even though I sucked, I tried, which was more than some had done.  That my effort was worth something.  That just showing up, when I was so afraid of falling and failing, that THAT was worth something in and of itself.


Listen.

I get that kids need to learn how to win and lose graciously.

Taking scores out of games so there are no 'winners' or 'losers' doesn't help kids. Kids need to learn that sometimes they are going to win, and sometimes they are going to lose and regardless, they need to not be an ass about it.

However, hyper-competitiveness doesn't help kids, either.  Over-emphasizing the value of winning over all other things teaches that if you can't be the best, don't even try.

There is value in effort.  There is value in trying, and fucking up.  There is value in just kind of being okay at something.  There is value in trying.

And I think that's worth recognizing.

SOURCE

The Obligatory Year-In-Review and New Years Resolution Post

2014.  This was not my favourite year.

I dealt with a lot of stress, mental health issues, physical health issues, house stuff, money stuff, relationship stuff.

The high point of my year?  NOT having Cancer.  Which is a really, really awesome thing, but a pretty low bar to measure a whole year by.  Also, this last month the last remaining portion of my colon decided to get its shit together, figuratively speaking, and push my colitis back into a state somewhat resembling remission.  At any rate, the daily ass-bleeding has stopped for the most part.

Not having Cancer was Ay-Oh-Kay in my books, as was the reprieve from daily ass-bleeding, but quite frankly, the rest of the year just felt like a god-damn struggle.

I know it's not been all bad.  The change in mood between this post and this post from a few weeks ago can probably tell you how all-over-the-place I have been. I've been making efforts to maintain some level of positivity.  Some days are 'be thankful and count your blessings' days.  Some days are not.

On a side note: I had a pretty decent Christmas. Got to actually see my family and eat turkey.  And then every single member of my household got sick as shit for the next four days (not from the turkey, from the flu).  So while Christmas was much better than last year, the universe did it's damndest to make sure Boxing Day blew chunks (metaphorically).

So basically, 2014 can fuck right off for not being the vast improvement over 2013 it was supposed to be.  You're fucking fired, 2014.

So, now that we've got all that bother out of the way, some plans and resolutions for 2015:

1. Be more active, whilst remaining actively body-positive.  This will include: 
• Continuing to swim at the Y three mornings a week
• Returning to kick-boxing once a week
• Using my lunch-breaks to walk each day, or taking evening walks after dinner
• Refraining from negative self-talk and avoiding the "D-word".  Riots, not diets, folks.
• Eat more system-friendly foods that will keep my fucked-up digestive happy
• Drink water. Lots of water. Because dehydration is a bitch, yo.
2. Finish working on The Table Formerly Known as the Penis Table
3. Blog more, both here and on The Art Blog. I also have a plan for a third blog that has been in the works for a while.
4. Paint. Draw. Craft.
• Submit work to art shows. Try not to get frustrated if not accepted. Keep trying.
5. Write.
•  Look for opportunities to write outside of blogging.
6. Make music
• Find a conveniently-scheduled and receptive open mic to attend.  Attend with some regularity
7. Audition for plays
8. Continue to practice good self-care, for the benefit of both my physical and mental health:
• Take my blood-thinners and butt-meds regularly
• Get my blood work done regularly, as required
• Continue seeing my counsellor for as long as work will cover it/I can afford it
• Bitch-slap the jerkbrain when she starts getting too loud.
9. Make friends, and make time for friends.
10. Make time to keep being a good mom, girlfriend and person, overall.
11. Make time for me.
12. Breathe.

So that's all from this end for this year.  Here's to new beginnings.

I look slightly deranged. I kind of like it. Cheers, y'all.

Michael Jordan, I ain't.

Today, the basketball house league that my youngest daughter plays in had their end-of-season parents vs. kids game, and because I am a sport (and a bit of a masochist, it seems) I took the opportunity to face on a group of 10-12 year olds with more athletic ability in their pinkie fingers than I have in my, well, everything.

I played for three periods, then had to quit, because having your mother quit halfway through a bonding experience HAS to be less traumatic than watching your mother drop dead of a coronary in the middle of a gymnasium.  I also developed one hell of a cramp in my right leg, as my calf decided it was going on strike for the rest of the day.

But overall it was a fun experience and I learned a few things:

- I am not as bad at basketball as I imagined myself to be. Oh, I'm not even close to being good, but I did manage one basket (was I stoked? Mister, you better believe I was STOKED) and not once did I find myself curled up in the fetal position or running with my arms covering my head.

I used to have what is referred to elementary school phys. Ed. circles as an intense "FEAR OF THE BALL".  I credit three years of kick-boxing for helping me get over that.  Once you've taken a round-house kick to the face, a mere basketball is a nuzzle from a kitten.

- my kid is fast.  Like, I knew theoretically that she was fast, but after being tasked with actually having to keep up with her, she is FAST.  Holy crap.

- I am old, fat and out of shape.  The old part, I am totally cool with. The fat part, well, I'm still unlearning a lot of toxic shit, but am gradually becoming at peace with my shape and size.  The out of shape part is not effing cool.  Not cool at all.

So I'm going to get on a new workout plan. I've been swimming lanes three times a week, but I think I'm going to hit some Boxing Day sales and find myself an MP3 player and dedicate myself to walking again, as well as joining kickboxing again, once a week at first.  Hopefully if my schedule can handle it I can move up to twice.

My goal is to get back to a similar fitness level as I was before the whole Cancer thing.  Wish me luck.

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In other news, the original title to this post was going to be "Michael Jordan, I ain't (Hal Jordan, maybe)" as I was thinking Hal Jordan played the old guy on Evening Shade, but turns out that's Hal Holbrook, I think, and Hal Jordan is the secret alias of the Green Lantern.  So, I figured that comparing myself to a superhero rather than a professional athlete wasn't so much self-deprecating (which is what I was going for) as just kind of arrogant, and that I needed another option.

I considered changing it to Tracy Jordan, but worried that may have been appropriation, and in light of recent events, pretty fucking insensitive.

So I toddled off to the Goògle to search "Famous people with the last name Jordan" and you know what? There are way too many porn stars with that name, which is something I never needed or wanted to know, but now I do and you do too.

You're welcome.