My roller-skating identity crisis

I need to write about skating more often. I'm hoping that writing it down will help me figure out just what I want out of it, because I change my mind a dozen times a day, and it's starting to drive me crazy. In the past month and a half, I've gone skating maybe four or five times. After my first fall, I lost a lot of confidence. One puzzling thing about my falls is that when they happen, I can pick myself up and push through, but the next session always gets me: I start out shaky and obsess over obstacles, worried about how my next fall will happen. I keep my head down and my eyes fixed on the floor. My shins throb. My body goes stiff. I try everything I know to self-soothe and give myself mental pep talks, but I usually just let my nerves get the best of me and creep along till the last half hour of a session, when I can usually squeeze out a couple decent laps out of sheer desperation.

I've fallen, on average, once a session since that first fall. That first fall opened the floodgates. It also triggered something in me that I really don't like, and can't seem to work around. When I try to think about it rationally, I realize I'm not scared of falling -- it's happened (obviously) and I always come out of it OK. I've gotten bruises, sure, but nothing major. But those falls have had a symbolic impact that runs deeper than their physical effects. I'm more hesitant to try new things. I'm much more cautious. I'm overthinking it, and I know it, but I don't know how to not think about it. And then I think about not thinking. I stiffen up. And then I fall. Rinse. Repeat.

It's frustrating, but I'm trying to work through it. I'm just not sure why.

At one point after I started skating, a friend got it in my head that I should try out for roller derby. I've felt conflicted about it ever since. I love the idea of having a built-in community and the potential to build new relationships through a shared interest. I love the idea of friends, family, and co-workers coming out to cheer me on. I love that it's the complete opposite of what people -- including myself -- expect from me. But that's just it: I feel like I'm in love with the idea of it. I think I latched onto it so quickly because it gave me direction and purpose. Instead of just skating aimlessly around an oval for a few hours on the weekends, I'd be skating towards a goal.

But working towards roller derby as a goal is starting to feel like just that: work. I loved the stress relief of skating, but ever since the (however abstract) goal of roller derby came into the picture, I've started to feel like it's becoming a cause of my stress. I don't want to quit. I want to keep skating as long as I'm physically able. And I want to learn and improve (I still can't do a proper crossover, and I'll be damned if I quit before I do!) I just don't know that I want to take it to the next level with hours and hours of intense weekly practice, dues, endless equipment upgrades, and an even higher risk of injury.

I attended a roller derby bootcamp this past Saturday. I'm still sore. Sore to the point that I waddle when I walk and have to pick up my ankle with my hands to sit cross-legged. I'm proud of myself for making it this far, but keep wondering: is this far enough? Am I letting others down if this is as far as I take it? And why do I care so much about letting other people down? If I don't go beyond casual skating, is it because of a character flaw, or a re-evaluation of my priorities? I often feel the same about crafts, which makes me wonder if I'm just lazy.

Sometimes, I worry about trying out and not making it. Lately, I'm just as worried about trying out and making it -- because that would mean commitment. So... am I a flake, or just someone who knows her limits?