Roller Derby: Struggles On/Off the Track

 

Roller Derby: Struggles On/Off the Track

**Trigger Warning**

-Domestic Violence

-Manipulation

-Eating Disorder

If you are uncomfortable with reading about the above descriptions, please take your mental health and put it first above others. This story is about the emotional injuries of Roller Derby.

If you find yourself in need of help from the above issues, please seek help by calling the National Domestic Violence Hotline for support, resources, and advice for your safety.

1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

Please also note that some timelines in my stories feel fuzzy as I blocked the heavy parts out. Recovery in sobriety and abuse is a journey.

               Let’s take a step back to my first years in playing Roller Derby. At the tender age of 19 I found a league closer than the trek to LA I was doing twice a week, Prison City Roller Derby (previously known as the Prison City Derby Dames).  I also had found a new love, lets call him “Billy” for the internet’s sake, and for mine looking back on it. Billy was a generous number of years ahead of me, about on the cusp of 30 or so I believe (I can’t remember really, I wasn’t invited to his birthdays as they were in the bars). Now I want you to also look at the fact that I was also 19 and about 2 years into my sobriety. I never really had a chance when it came to Billy.

               I was just starting to figure out how in the hell to do a transition on my skates with skating with Prison City, when things started to change with Billy. He had just moved to the mainland Southern California from an undisclosed location about thirty miles off the coast of Long Beach (if you know, you know). Now Billy was a bit controlling when it came to me and him. I remember being stupid some nights and I will admit I was not as faithful. What can I say? I was a 19-year-old kid who could not use drugs anymore. Just horny and looking to rebel other ways. I was in awe of Billy though. A Fully tattooed, dangerous, and a freshly sober alcoholic (how Shakespearean of us). I thought I scored the jackpot; I thought it was love. Looking back, it was only a sprinkle of love, and a whole potful of debauchery and mind games.

For all your math genius’ out there, this equation is looking grim. Am I right?? But I had one thing that motherfucker did not, Derby.

Billy would come with me to some practices, always keeping his eye on me. Even when I was in my safe space of being at derby with all my friends, I felt his eyes staring. He even went as far as pressuring me into branding my helmet with his chosen nickname initials. It drove all my confidence down. The sleepless nights we would spend watching the movies he would pick. I started to not eat, I started to wither emotionally and physically. Eventually Prison City took what we’ll call a “hiatus.” I was in the same situation as before, instead of LA I was trekking out to the IE Area hopping in as much scrimmages as I could. I was on a mental island with the only inhabitants being Billy and the manifestation of Roller Derby in a human form, I guess. Coping with the abuse and manipulation at home and trying to find refuge in skating.

While I was having an internal (okay maybe external as well) conflict, I did not even realize that a few skaters from Prison City jumped ship and started a new league, and in my backyard around 2013 or so. Meanwhile me and Billy were rupturing. It got as far as Billy requesting (lightly put) to make me take pictures of specific items in my room at ungodly hours of the night, so he could be sure I was not lying about my whereabouts at 3am.

                                                        

Hoping a new change in scenery would help, I ventured to join what would be known as the Taco Tuesday Team of Southern California. San Gabriel Valley Roller Derby. Now remember that name closely, because a lot of shit will happen in the next few years with them. If not in this post, in another.

As the next year went on, the more manipulation and control Billy had over me the stronger a skater I would become. I must admit it was not the healthiest training technique. SGVRD was hitting the road to Vegas soon and I could not wait to get out of the same zip code, however I had a creeping feeling he’d be trying to get a way to go with. Luckily, I escaped to Vegas with my newfound friends and teammates to what would be a turning point in this story, and quite possibly a lifeline sent from whatever god/gods you believe in. If it were not for this event, I’m sure that Billy’s abuse and manipulation wouldn’t stay just in my head for much longer. I think it would start to surface into something more severe that makeup or hair could not cover up.

The Vegas game went off without a hitch…just kidding, it ended early for me resulting in going to the ER with an ACL tear and a full leg brace. Again, that is a longer fucking story, but they are very much connected emotionally for me. Going home I felt relief that I would get to sit and rest for a while and stay in one place without Billy coming around. Boy was I wrong. I sat at home for about a month or so finally able to catch my breath with my parents taking care of me. In the middle of that month, guess who knocked on my fucking door. That’s right Billy, he made his mom drive him to my house to see why I had not picked him up when he asked to be driven somewhere. He is a real piece of work at this point. My father came into my room to see why he was there, I had just gotten back from PT and was in a more mobile brace. It took one look from me to my father for him to realize I was terrified. I didn’t say a word, just shook my head like I was going through shellshock. He knew, he was the smartest person I knew at the time. And just like that, Billy and his mom were gone. I sat there on my bed, knowing that this could not happen anymore.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, I could start to drive now with a supportive brace. Guess where my stupid ass goes first? Ding ding, you guessed it, motherfucking Billy’s house. This time I knew it was time to do what I had to do. Billy’s family was luckily out of town because I’m not sure what would go down. Was it stupid going alone? Yes probably. I told my father where I was going however, that way he knew what was going to happen. I knew I was stronger than I had really been. Tearing my ACL with no painkillers was the proof. There was still something that would come over me when Billy would speak to me, a shift in my emotions. A kryptonite (cliché I know).

Slowly making my way up to Billy’s house, he opened the door before I even got to it. He could be legally blind, but the fucker sure had the other senses heightened because of it. He warmly invited me in, in the resemblance of a moth to a flame. As soon as the door closed his rage shifted and came full force. I couldn’t tell you exactly what he’d said, in my memory its all ringing in my ears. My fight or flight response kicked in and I ran out the door. Each step I took was excruciating, but I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t ever be allowed to leave again. From outside I can remember the screaming and thrashing that was going on in Billy’s house. I was expecting him to chase after me, but he never did. I sped home and because of that stint, I ended up back in my full leg brace again. Worth every moment of pain in my opinion.

So now I’m guessing you are all wondering what the hell does this story have to do with skating. Well, it’s just that. It’s a morbid coming of age and having Roller Derby being a somewhat respectable vice to whatever is going on in your life. If I didn’t have Roller Derby to help give me the confidence to leave Billy, I’d hate to see what kind of person I would be now.

Again, these are my own personal stories and conflict and not everyone is the same. In the end I’m glad it happened in a sick way. I’m finally happy and in a healthy relationship both on and off the track. I just hope to bring some light to those who are in the middle of their epic journeys to know they aren’t alone. With that said I’ll end this post on a lighter note.

               With love to all those readers and a big "go fuck yourself Billy".

-        Trish McCallister aka Lettie Zeppelin

 

Postscript: This is also a love letter to the original Roller Derby name I chose before I joined SGVRD.

Rest In Peace Twitch