Saturday, 10 May 2014

Two Years On (Part Two)

So I know I can talk a lot about the things you can lose at a moment’s notice. Today is all about what you can make out of it and the opportunities it can present.

As soon as the decision was made that I wouldn’t be skating any more I had to look at my options. I could quit and leave the league altogether but that just wasn’t an option in my head. We all know how addictive this game is and how your team become your second family. At this point I think I needed them more than ever so leaving just wasn’t going to happen for me. So what about NSOing? Well, I had NSO’d a lot over my time on skates and continued to after stopping but it didn’t quite cut it for me. I needed that competition, that drive to win and to feel a part of a team. So that left bench staffing. Could I do that? Did I have the knowledge? The skills? Would people even like me?!

Anxieties aside, it was the obvious choice for me. So about six months after the injury I benched my first game – a mixed opener for DRR. I had three of my teamies with me which was actually really nice as we kind of supported each other through our first games together. I remember having a team talk before the game started and thinking “god, I hope I look like I know what I’m talking about!!” and just being a bag of nerves. Then the first whistle blew and it all disappeared. I suddenly had a job to do so I just kind of got on with it. It all passed in a blur but we managed to take the win which felt nothing short of amazing. I found it really emotional as I thought I would never experience that win, because I couldn’t skate anymore, so when I did it really blew me away. That first
game really was the start of a new chapter for me and I went from strength to strength. A recent highlight was being able to line up for an all star England team. I felt totally out of my depth working with the likes of Kitty Decapitate and Stefanie Mainey but it was such an incredible game to be a part of.

The stand-out high point for me was being voted in as line up for my league’s A-team. I worked for a long time to get there and it really felt incredible to be recognised by my home league as being worthy of working at that level. I will be forever thankful for the opportunities that they have offered me and will never forget the support I received during the most difficult of times. The girls on that team truly are my heroes and every day I hope to be considered good enough to continue to work with them again, in any context. I’ve continued to work with mixed teams of varying levels but I don’t think anything will ever match that feeling of belonging I got from that season.

The point is that life doesn’t always go the way you’d planned or hoped for but in going wrong, it often presents us with opportunities we might never have encountered otherwise. Next time something goes wrong, don’t call it going wrong. Call it going differently, because that’s all it is. Fate is what happens to you, destiny is what you do with it.

Sunday, 13 April 2014

Two Years On (Part One)

Two years ago today I went to training and put on my skates. Little did I know it would be the last time.

If you have read my previous blog posts you’ll already know what happened on the day so I won’t go into that all over again. What I want to talk about is appreciating what you have. It’s a concept we are all familiar with but in terms of skating; do we always give it 100%? Everyone will have off days, I’m not trying to imply that everyone can or should do everything perfectly at every training session and every game, that’s just not how the world works. What I’m talking about is the want and the need to be on skates. We don’t always feel like going to training. That night out or Sunday morning lie-in seems a much nicer option. And then when you get to training, sometimes the energy just isn't there and it feels like you’re going through the motions a bit. Being at training is about far more than just turning up. It’s about dedicating that time to nothing but training, working hard, sweating buckets and trying to make improvements every session.

Imagine if, one day, someone told you that your skating career was over. That your goals would never be met, you would never lace up your skates again. This is not a naggy post and I’m not trying to bring anyone down but seriously, appreciate your skates. You never know what might be around the corner.

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

The Awkward Middle Stage...

Anyone that’s lost a big amount of weight will understand what I’m talking about here!

I was going through my wardrobe today trying to find something for casual lunch with some friends and discovered that nothing really fits me. Now this would be fine except I’ve been at this point for about a month now. Jeans are all too big and fall down or too small and won’t do up – it really is that big of a difference. So here I am at a size 21, apparently, and desperately trying to find the motivation to carry on with my weight loss. It’s no secret that I’ve stalled recently. This is partly due to my body having enough and partly down to my new found party lifestyle which in no small part is due to my boosted confidence of late. 

Now, of course I want to be able to feel fabulous in my wedding dress and I would love to be able to think about the things that “normal” sized people think about when they are buying clothes “does it look good? How can I style it” etc etc. Instead, I have to think about how big my hips are and if it’s going to cling to my belly. But at this stage, it almost seems a better option to give up and gain a small amount of weight back so that my jeans will fit me again!

That said, I find it really easy to forget how far I’ve come already. I’ve lost four stone over the past 18 months or so. Yes, it’s a lot slower than I had hoped for but I’m still in a much better situation than I was. My BMI has come down by 10 whole points and I now only have the one chin. But ultimately, I’m not where I want to be yet. I still want to lose 3-4 dress sizes and, even though BMI charts are wildly inaccurate, I would love to get into the “healthy weight” category. I just want to be happy in my own skin, I don’t ever remember feeling like that about myself.

So, here are my new targets;
Celebrate what you have already achieved
Keep the goal in mind – ALL THE TIME!!
Celebrate the small victories. Even the tiny ones.

Let's see how long I can stick to these shall we....

Sunday, 28 July 2013

You Can Take the Girl Out of High School...

I’d like to talk to you a little about my childhood. Not because I want to give you a sob story or make excuses as to why I am overweight, but because I think it’s relatable. After all, that’s why I write this stuff!!

I really struggled to make friends as a child. When I started school I found it really difficult to even approach anyone at all. I would often be struggling with school work but would just sit and struggle rather than approach a teacher and admit my weakness. I found this made me somewhat of a loner which, consequently, made me an easy target for bullies. Who was going to stick up for me, my imaginary friends? Although in fairness I didn't even have any of them!

I found myself drawing further and further within myself, hating myself. I remember at the age of around ten looking in the mirror and hating what I saw. Not that there was anything wrong with me especially, I guess I just assumed that there was a reason no-one liked me and that the problem must lie with me. This continued into secondary school when I had to move schools after repeatedly being spat on, had names shouted at me and being pushed down the stairs. That was probably the low point as far as self esteem went for me. I remember feeling scared of going to school and would regularly pretend to be ill so I wouldn't have to go. Safe to say this didn't work for too long and eventually my Mum did pull me out of the school after they made it clear they weren't going to do anything about it. The new school was better, I didn't live in fear, but I still didn't really make any friends. Starting a new school in the middle of year nine was always going to be difficult. When we moved up to Gainsborough things did get a lot better. I found myself in a small friendship group and for the first time I felt accepted but still never lost my fear of rejection. In all honesty, it’s still something I carry and it does affect me more than it should. I constantly feel like I don’t have any friends and that no-one would care if I dropped off the face of the earth. While my rational side of my brain knows this isn't true, the emotional side will often get the better of me in certain situations. So, to those who know me, if I ever seem distant it’s only because I sometimes feel safer that way. If I distance myself from you, it won’t hurt as much when you inevitably leave me.

So, why am I telling you all this? As discussed in my last blog entry, I am an emotional eater and put on the majority of the weight I am now trying to lose when I was going through some very tough times. We all carry baggage. The key to overcoming it, whether you’re trying to lose weight, get a promotion or achieve anything you want to for that matter, is to make it that thing you want to defeat. Mine is a deep seated fear of rejection or abandonment. While this might seem like a self indulgent pity party, I am slowly learning to overcome my fear of rejection. It sounds a little strange initially but if I could become the person I want to be, physically and emotionally, I can learn to love myself so the fear will subside with time. Not because I feel people won’t want to reject me because I am thinner or prettier or whatever, but because I won’t carry around the feeling of self loathing that has crippled me for most of my 25 years. I can do it, and I will. One day at a time. 

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Little Victories

Today I had a breakthrough and I thought it would be worth writing about. Not because I wanted to brag (well maybe a little) but because I wonder how many people have been in a similar situation.

Today was not the best day at work for me. I got knocked back for a job I really wanted (the second in recent weeks) and had some very difficult calls to handle. All I could think about was going home and eating a pizza. And some chocolate. And some cake. I just wanted to forget it all and lose myself in a tornado of sugar and saturated fat. It hit me with blinding clarity that *stands up* “I am Chrissy and I am an emotional eater”. I also had my gym kit in the car. I had two choices. I could go to Tesco, situated all too conveniently next to my workplace, or I could go to the circuits class down the road. I drove and turned into the junction for Tesco. I picked up a basket and filled it with salad, fruit, vegetables and some rather nice reduced sea bass (£2.60 for two fillets – get in!!) I even managed to walk past the brand new Krispy Kreme stand not once but twice! I packed my goodies into the car and drove up to the circuits class when I drowned in a tornado of my own sweat, tears and more sweat.

This whole thing got me thinking. We all have weaknesses, of course we do. We are human beings after all and shouldn’t ever make ourselves feel bad for having them. What we do have is control over how we deal with and that’s what defines us. Instead of hiding my frustration by burying it under junk food, I vented it at what was possibly the sweatiest exercise class I have ever been to. And y’know what, I feel fantastic for it!! Next time you are having a bad day, reach for your trainers rather than the takeaway menu. You just might love it...

Sunday, 28 April 2013

The Healing Continues

Something that is vastly underestimated following injury is the psychological impact. For weeks after my injury I had flashbacks and nightmares that were so real I felt the same nausea I felt when I ruined my ankle. Because of these flashbacks, I started to remember more and more about the injury itself. I knew what had happened but I don’t think I really experienced it. After all, your body is very good at kicking in and preventing you from feeling pain in such situations. In all honestly while I was lying on the floor after it happened, I only knew I was really hurt because I felt that familiar warmth of blood rushing to the site of the injury. As I started to remember more, I realised why I had made my coaches feel so ill while I was mid-fall. Sorry but it gets a bit disgusting here!! I had previously thought that I hadn't heard anything break like the clean audible “snap” noise when I did my first break. No, I heard a crunching, grinding noise, which I had previously attributed to my wheels but now knew that it was, in fact, the various components of my ankle being torn apart.

I still have these nightmares and flashbacks, which to me, seems somewhat of an overreaction on my part, but it is what it is. I am managing them better, but they are still there. I still feel my stomach turning when I see a skater dragging their foot, as I know better than most how weak ankles can be at times. Some things do help, I got a beautiful tattoo on my left shin as a distraction from the scars and a way of dealing with the whole situation. Whenever I look at it, it reminds me of a few things. Not just the injury, but how far I actually came on skates. From not being able to stand up, I managed to jump, skate with others, and even some contact. More importantly, it reminds me that despite a shitty situation, something beautiful can me made.

Looking beyond the injury itself, I do still yearn to be on eight wheels again. I've had to stay away from our Saturday (beginners and intermediate) training sessions because a lot of the time it is simply too hard to watch. Cherry popper games can be especially hard to watch. I was so close so getting the last few things ticked off my skills sheet and finally getting my chance to bout and now that’ll never happen. Honestly, there are times when I think a year is enough and it’s time to get back on my skates (well, borrow some given that I sold mine!) but then my ankle jars and reminds me of the damage that’ been done to it.

Honestly I don’t know whether getting back on my wheels will ever happen, or what roller derby has in store for me in general but the healing process is continuing, inside and out.

Sunday, 14 April 2013


Frank with staples, just after the first surgery
Two weeks after the first operation, it was time to have Frank’s staples removed. I spoke to a nurse friend of mine who assured me it wouldn't hurt at all and I would be fine. She lied. It was the kind of pain that goes straight to your stomach and makes you want to vomit a bit. Thankfully, the nurse was somewhat of an expert and it was over mercifully quickly. Once again, Frank was re-plastered and I left with a brand new blank canvas for my team mates to doodle on to their hearts content. Of course it was bomber blue – that goes without saying!!

Staples out... ouchee!!

I noticed after another two weeks or so that there was a warm sensation accompanied by pain coming from my calf. I suspected a pressure sore from my cast being slightly too tight, although I hadn’t realised this at the time it was being applied. I proceeded to hop down the stairs and Gaz drove me to Lincoln A&E which is always a fun trip! The doctor proceeded to tell me I had a possible DVT. Having experienced this less than a year before, I tried to argue that it wasn’t but what do I know eh? I was brought back the following day for tests where it was, shockingly, confirmed that I did not have a DVT, who’d have thought?! I, again, asked them to take off my cast and check for pressure sores. Eventually they did and found, you guessed it, a pressure sore!! Easily fixed, antibiotics and a new cast were administered – done!! Well almost, with only four weeks until my second operation, it needed to heal before then. If not, the operation could be postponed and I quite wanted to get back to that walking business. That and the job I had worked 4 days in before this whole thing happened. Yup, even my timing was impeccable!! 

I was lucky enough to have an orthopaedic nurse at my local GP surgery and she kept an eye on me as often as I could get into the surgery. For the last two weeks before the operation, I was cast-less which frankly only made me want to walk like a normal person even more!! She checked on my sore regularly and even smuggled me some special prescription issue dressings which had honey in them, they not only smelt amazing but they also healed me up a treat!! We had a frank conversation during one of my visits (she’s a straight shooter – another reason to love her!!). We discussed what could happen if I skated again and another injury happened. I didn't like what was said but I needed to hear it. I won’t bore you with it but the moral of the story was that if I break it again, there was a good chance the damage would be irreversible. As long as I had a plate in my leg, there was no way I should be skating again. I said I would discuss it with my surgeon, hoping he would give me a different answer.

Before the second surgery...
Operation day!! Up at the crack of dawn and off to Grantham. The pressure sore was fixed up enough and it was all cleared to go ahead. I braced myself for another epidural and the hassle that I had gone through last time. Fortunately, no such fate awaited me. A drop of sedation and a good dose of local anaesthetic was all this one would take!! They pulled up a little screen which confused me a little, until I saw my ankle on it. Turns out it was some version of an x-ray machine I hadn't yet encountered, I thought I had seen them all on my broken travels! There was my ankle, and next to it, the surgeon’s scalpel. He was cleverly looking where to make the incision so it could be as tiny as possible. “Genius” I thought, in my slightly drowsy state. Anyway, next thing I knew, I could feel a strange (sorry about this) scraping sort of feeling on my ankle bone. That was a screw leaving my ankle – most peculiar. Some steri-strips to close it up and we were all done. Brilliant!!

... and after.
I slept off the last of the sedation while Gaz sat next to me patiently reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Eventually I woke up and decided that the only way to celebrate the success of the operation was to go to that OK Diner we had passed so many times on various journeys. It was epic but I wasn't sure whether this was the quality of the food or the fact that I hadn't eaten all day in preparation for the surgery. Frankly I didn't care! When we got home, I walked up the stairs to the flat. It’s the little things.

I managed to put off the skating discussion with the surgeon this time. After all, I would be back in a few months and definitely wouldn't be skating before then!! I knew I couldn't avoid it forever though.