Yes. There are benefits to participating in team sports. Yes. My children will learn valuable life lessons by being involved in them. Yes. It is an important part of life, developing the skills to play and work well with others. Blah, blah, blah.
Don’t get me wrong, I am one hundred percent on board with the positive benefits that being actively involved in a team sport can provide. However, forgive me if it’s a tough pill for me to swallow.
Let me preface all of this by telling you that I (shockingly) did not really play a team sport as a child. I think I played volleyball for two or three years and basketball for one (and most of that happened in middle school). Most of my free time in high school was spent on the liberal and performing arts (band, choir, color guard, drama, etc). I didn’t even really get into fitness or exercising until much later in life. And, surprise surprise, all of my active endeavors now are generally things I can do alone, or perhaps with another person to assist. Weight lifting, rock climbing, trapeze, and yoga are all activities where my success or failure depends solely on me. I am only competing with myself. I am only looking to improve upon a previous version of me.
I also prefer to do these activities with quiet and uninterrupted focus and attention. No team. No coach. No crowd.
Team sports are LOUD. Team sports are CROWDED and the energy is INTENSE. And, if I’m right about my own self diagnosis as an empath, these things are really hard to be around. Especially for sustained periods of time. Especially after more than a year of NOT having to be in these social situations. Especially while I am still trapped in the house with 3 other people ALL the time and still haven’t really gotten the alone time that I so desperately need to decompress after 17 months of pandemic induced “togetherness.” Phew.
And so, forgive me if I hide in a far away corner of an event only to pop up when it’s my kid’s time to shine. Forgive me if I duck out early or arrive late (playing tag team with my husband so that the kids know someone is always there to support them). Forgive me if I find it hard to relate, participate in, and get excited about all the “extras” that go along with competitive team sports. Forgive me if I can’t hide the look on my face when I hear about yet another commitment or event related to being a part of the team. Because as much as I’d LIKE to separate myself from my kids’ lives, (becuase my children are not MY children) we just aren’t at that stage yet. Their obligations ARE my obligations.
I will absolutely suck it up and put on my big girl britches to support my children and their interests. I will get them where they need to be for practices, and games, and ALL the extra events in between. But, that doesn’t mean I have to find joy personally in these endeavours. And that doesn’t mean that I have to get sucked into the whole atmosphere and energy of the situation emotionally. That is the line I am drawing. That is the boundary that separates me from my children. The boundary that separates their lives from mine. That is the boundary helping to preserve my own sanity — I hope — so that they can be a part of the team and learn all those wonderful life lessons, even if all I want to do is put on pjs and curl up on the couch to binge watch something on Netflix…
