I had an interesting weekend. My wife was out of town all weekend and I was home alone w/ 3 of my kids. Yet surprisingly enough I didn't even have a thought to get jiggy w/ myself nor do anything SA related. That made me feel really good. It showed me how far I've come and how well I'm doing emotionally & mentally. I'm now 2+ months sober and still going strong.
The big thing that happened was on Friday night when I played a co-ed softball game w/ work peeps that did not go the way I wanted it to. I played baseball when I was a kid in my city leagues and softball w/ church groups when I was 15, but I haven't thrown a ball or used a bat since. I thought almost 20 years later things would be "different," but alas, some things never change.
Tuesday night I went w/ some work friends to practice for a few hours and had a lot of fun. I couldn't believe that I was still able to catch and bat pretty well despite not playing for so many years. I didn't feel stupid or awkward and thought there wouldn't be any issues come game night. The game was supposed to be mostly for fun, after all. Yet even walking up to the baseball diamond Friday night I could sense there was already tension, grit, and that fucking competitive thirst for blood in the air. It was the typical jockish, ass-wad fest all over again. PUKE PUKE PUKE! For one thing, the other team consisted of almost all shaved head, tight bodied, butch dudes from a law firm here in town so my self-confidence immediately went down upon seeing them and I didn't feel like I could act like my usual fun-loving self.
Now, I wasn't the only novice player on my team and from the get-go it was obvious we weren't going to win. There were a few positives on my end: A) I only ended up playing 1/2 the game b/c there were so many players so I was able to camp out safe and sound in the dug out B) I caught a foul ball and outed somebody and C) I successfully hit and made it to 1st.
What really cemented the fact that I still DO NOT enjoy these team, competitive sports happened toward the end of the game. All the bases were loaded, we were on our 3rd out and I was up to bat and of COURSE I struck out. I felt like my whole team was looking at me like I was a fucking loser as they all made their way back to the dug out. Maybe they were thinking that and maybe they weren't but I sure felt stupid and wanted to completely melt. All the insecurities and negative things I've ever been called and that are still rooted deep down inside me came rushing back like a dam had collapsed: "fucking faggot! loser! cocksucker! fem! dirty queer! can't do anything right! let down! limp wrist! fairy! etc." I felt so low. I decided right then and there I don't need this shit.
After the game I stepped back and really tried to think though all of it and think more healthy, rational thoughts. I decided who gives a shit if some of my team members were thinking those bad thoughts about me? Most of them don't (or I don't think they do) b/c they are my friends. Or who cares if the tight butch dudes on the other team really thought I was a faggot? So let them think that! They don't KNOW me or who I am as a person. And who FUCKING CARES that I'm not a primo baseball player? It's obvious I'm not a sport-o. I never was and never will be and I'm ok w/ that. I like ME and I'm ok w/ me and those who know and love me are ok w/ me. I don't enjoy playing team sports and never will. Am I ok w/ that fact? Yes, I am. Is my wife and those who are closest to me ok w/ the fact I'm not a macho, butch sportsy guy? Yes, they are. I'm a good dad who loves his family and I have other talents and capabilities that don't make me feel like shit about myself or put my self-worth and "manliness" on the line.
This really ended up being a good lesson for me. The next time I get invited to go out to the ole' ball game, I think I'll just pass and stay at home and fix myself a hot dog and a snow cone.