Sharing Something You Love
I love hockey. No really, I love hockey. I mean, my cat is named after a hockey player.
But don’t worry non-sports people this isn’t a post about sports, at least not at the heart. It’s a story about vulnerability (shocking I know).
A weird thing happened to me the other night. As (some of) you know, the NHL returned to play on Saturday after a four month pause. In order to fit all the games in NBC has had wall-to-wall hockey since then. So I’ve been watching a lot of hockey, but not alone. My boyfriend of almost a year can be described as an avid sports fan but a casual hockey fan. He’s been watching hockey with me the whole time we’ve been together, even going to a couple live games with me (when we could do that sigh). This makes me very happy as it’s sometimes a struggle to get any of my friends to be engaged with the sport I love so much. All that being said, what happened the other night should have been great news.
Kori. What happened the other night? Get to the point.
Yes, yes, here we go. Ron and I were messaging each other, talking casually about sports and hockey in general when he mentioned he got a book on how to watch hockey. And my whole world stopped.
I got sad. I got mad. I teared up and didn’t know what to do. Why am I having this reaction? At first I didn’t know. This should be great news! The person I love is interested in what I’m interested in and I’ll finally have someone to talk hockey with on a deeper level!
It hit me in waves. Hockey is my thing. It’s what I know best. I’ve spent years learning everything I could about the game, the players, how it’s marketed, what it means to people, how it affects society and now some guy (well not some guy but you get the point) was going to waltz in and take the thing that’s all mine away from me. After experiencing my inter toddler grab the stuffed animal of hockey, stamp their foot, and scream ‘mine!’until they lost their voice, I was crying out of frustration, but I pulled my grownup pants on and went into self awareness mode.
To boil down the dissection of my own psyche into one word: Insecure. I’m so insecure and self-doubting and fragile when it comes to confidence, that all it took to bring me down was my boyfriend showing me the kindness of liking what I like. I felt threatened. I tie so much of my identity and self-worth into how competent I am in my very small field of hockey expert that the idea of someone, a man no less, swooping in and showing me up was like having an earthquake bring down the walls I had built up to appear confident.
On a deeper level even than my insecurity, hockey is the thing that I love the most, it brings me so much happiness and joy. In a life that’s been a constant battle between depression and happiness, the things that bring joy take on a greater importance.
Having Ron learn about hockey felt like he was taking a piece of my heart, my soul, and my first reaction was to panic and lash out. I can’t give this guy all of me! Are you crazy?? That would mean giving him the opportunity to hurt me. What if he knows more than me about hockey? What do I have to offer then? His offer to learn about my passion felt like showing all my cards at once. Hockey is at the core of my being.
But, after having a conversation about this insecurity with Ron, and talking to my therapist, I came to a realization. I love him, I trust him, and this will do nothing but bring us closer, which is a good thing.
Sometimes the most precious thing you can give a partner isn’t your love of them, but to share a love with them.
Just because Ron will now know who Tomas Hertl is doesn’t take away any of my knowledge, my passion. Life truly isn’t a competition and I’m worth more than what I can tell you about hockey.
Life isn’t a competition but it is a journey. Learning to let someone in and to share something so precious to you with them is beautiful. So for anyone reading who cares, my one piece of advice after this experience is this: Show your cards, let people in, and watch some hockey dammit!
