Hi everyone, my name is Kat and I'm an avid hater of all things hockey.
It started when I was very young.� I didn't always hate hockey, in the
beginning I was quite the fan.
One of my earliest and fondest memories was of my Dad setting up a net in the
basement of our house for me to practice shooting at.� I think I was around
three years old at the time.� I remember him coming down the stairs and
trying to teach me how to hold a stick, how to flick my wrist just the right way
to make a wrist shot.� We would be down there for hours, him showing me how
to do slap shots, just the two of us.� It was really a great time.
Then when I was four almost five things changed.� My brother was born.�
I'm not sure why it happened or even how, all I know is that things between me
and my father changed at that moment.� He no longer had time to take me to
the basement and help me with my hockey.� I don't even remember him being
around all that much.� I remember how my Mom was always busy with my
brother, and when my Dad was around he was just too busy to hang out with me.�
I blamed my brother.� I thought that I'd been replaced by him.� I
don't know if that's true.� I can't go back and look inside my father's
mind.�
I remember being filled with so much jealousy towards my brother.� I hated
the way everyone seemed to fawn all over him.� He didn't' even do anything.�
I was much more interesting than a baby that just ate, slept and shit, right?�
Nope, the baby was more important, everything seemed to center around him.�
At the time I felt that this was a comment on me becoming a second class citizen
in the family, I felt that it just didn't matter about me anymore.� Now I
realize that isn't the case.� I realize that the reason everyone was with
the baby all the time is because baby's are just so much more needy than a four
year old child.� But explain that to a four year old.
I had already been
tagging along with the older boys in the neighborhood, my Mom had been sending
me out to play with them on a regular basis.� I guess it was because she'd
had a miscarriage and had been dealing with that (I hadn't known that at the
time) and then she was pregnant and just couldn't be chasing after me all the
time.� But again, I had no knowledge of this.� My parents didn't even
tell me that my Mom was having a baby until she just mysteriously disappeared
one day for about a week and then came home with a baby.� I told her it was
ugly and that she should send it back. Yup, I got a good talking to and I think
I even might have got the belt for being disrespectful for that one.� But
I'm not sure.
Somehow I got it in my head that my Dad 'left' me because I hadn't been
good enough at hockey.� I decided that if I got better at it he'd come back
to me and things would be like they had been before.
So I went to the older boys and asked them to sort of coach me.� I asked
them to make me good at hockey.� They agreed, but there was a price.�
They sent their younger brothers away.� The boys that were my own age.�
They told them to scram and they let me stay.� I felt so important.
When they told me to take my clothes off I did so.� I didn't even question
them.� I didn't wonder why I needed to take my clothes off to learn how to
play hockey.� They all took turns touching me, they made me touch them.�
We did this for a while and then we all put our clothes back on and they taught
me how to make a good wrist shot.� The next time we did the same thing,
removing our clothing before they taught me how to make a good slap shot.�
We went on this way for months.� I knew that it was all worth everything
those boys did to me, because when it was all over my Dad would love me again.
But I was wrong.� Things never went back to the way they were.� And to make matters worse, the older boys began to get rougher and more demanding when it came to the stuff before the lessons.� Then they stopped giving me lessons all together.�� My Mom used to let them come over to our house, we used to be allowed to go down stairs into the basement.� The place that once held so much fondness for me, now became a place of regret, a place where I was held down while objects were inserted inside me.� A place where I had to open my mouth and allow the boys to shove themselves into my mouth.� And all of it was my fault, because I wanted to get better at hockey.� I hated the basement that I had once loved so much.
Then we moved away from there.� We moved into an area that had an arena
just a block away from our house.� My parents signed my brother up for
hockey there.� I was not asked if I wanted to play.� They just cared
about signing him up.� And even worse, my Dad became my brothers coach.�
Everyday, no matter what was going on my Dad was always coaching my brother.�
At breakfast, lunch and dinner my Dad was telling my brother how to lower his
center of gravity so that when he body checked someone it wasn't him that went
sprawling on the ice.� My Dad sat there during my birthday telling my
brother how he needed to work on his wrist shot during the off season.� He
needed to do his push ups and chin ups, and when he was done that he needed to
run up and down the flight of stairs to strengthen his legs.� There never
was a time in my life when I wasn't hearing about hockey and how to get better
at it.
I tried doing the stuff my brother was doing with him.� We ran up and down
the stairs together, we ran around the track together, we did our push ups and
chin ups together.� We pushed each other, we were in competition for our
father's love.� Both of us wanted him to love us best, but I think he loved
hockey best and there wasn't room left in his heart for us.
So I turned my back on hockey.� And over time I began to hate it, blaming
it for all the problems in my family, tired of hearing about it every single day
of my life.
8:08 a.m. - February 18, 2006
Recent entries:
March Break Almost Done - March 16, 2006
Annoying and Irritating - March 15, 2006
Hello Mold, How Have You Been? - March 14, 2006
DNA Personality Test - March 10, 2006
Sickness Continues - March 09, 2006
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