Another Suitcase In Another Hall

For several weeks, I contemplated hanging up my skates. Things were not going well and I was feeling more and more frustrated every day. Add that my ice dance partner had suddenly decided to not skate any longer (and we hadn't even started yet) as well as being told once again that I would NEVER be good enough to compete as a Silver Lady and well, I had had enough. What was the point in continuing? I could have purchased a house with all the money I had spent on skating. Or at least, a very nice car, maybe even a boat. Or a small island. Whatever, the bell was tolling on the end of my skating life and I was agreeing with it. I skate a session on Thursday evenings that is filled with the rudest, most obnoxious children I have ever met. And I did theatre as a child, so I know what a rude, obnoxious child is like. Now multiply that by 12 and add their parents. These little brats monopolize the upper or lower portion of the rink, you know, where you usually jump, and practice being stupid. They'll all work on hydroplaning or illusions or anything that will take up a lot of space. If you dare to venture into their space, they usually suddenly move, while you're in the air and cause you to abort the jump. Except when you don't and you either fall (which they laugh at) or you fall on them and then their parents spend who knows how long, screaming at you. I'm used to people screaming at me; I drive 20 miles to work on the highway and I work in healthcare insurance. It's the laughing and the frustration that gets to me. And two weeks ago, I had enough. Since I had already paid for the intensive adult skate program on Saturday mornings, I was going to continue going until it was over. I told my friends that I had planned on hanging up my skates because I was going backwards and nothing was working. Everyone tried to cheer me up, but I figured, what was the point? We talked, I listened. We talked some more. I received text messages telling me not to quit. Then I decided something. Something important. It's time to switch coaches. I've never been good at ending relationships; I usually get dumped. But this is one relationship that I will have to end. I'll probably do it gradually, which will be pretty easy considering my ice options dwindle to almost nothing really soon. Also, I'm not quite sure my current coach will really notice. She seems bored with me and with my progress or lack thereof. As for me, I cannot believe that my crossovers are so bad that it's necessary to spend a third of my lesson working on them. Every. Week. Every. Lesson. For. Years. I realize that stroking and crossovers are skills that always need improvement, but every lesson? For years? Anyway, I've decided a switch is needed. I had been working with another coach last year while my current coach was on one of her many vacations and decided to return working with him on Thursday nights. Then I checked the schedule and discovered that Thursdays are being eliminated with no replacement scheduled. Thank you World Ice Arena. The only evening session (I'm not counting the one Power Skating session because it's Power Skating) in NYC and they discontinue it. For what? I'm sure it's hockey. When you consider that hockey has 89% of the ice time here in NYC, it's just annoyingly frustrating. Oh and before someone says to either move, or skate public sessions or skate early mornings, imagine saying that to one of your friends. Keep your snide comments to yourself; there's quite a bit of crap going on in my life right now. The same day I found out that the Thursday session was being eliminated, I was informed that the company I work for is going out of business. Seems the upper management didn't know as much about healthcare insurance as they thought they did and we will be closing. Apparently, I pick companies as well as I do romantic partners. I don't know when we'll be closing, I only know that the CEO, CFO and one other guy have already been let go. And for those of you who want to blame this on the Affordable Care Act; don't. Bad management is bad management. Period. So, on top of not having anywhere to skate, I have no idea how long I will be employed. Yes, I am applying for other jobs at larger companies and trying to finish up my education, but it still stinks just the same. I have been interrupted during several lunch hours (where I watch ASL videos while wearing large headphones in hopes that people will leave me alone; they don't)by co-workers who are upset and curious as to how I can be so calm. If you are only laid-off once in your work career, consider yourself lucky. This will make either my third or fourth time of being laid-off. Getting upset isn't going to change anything. I can only hope that the transition to another job is smoother and quicker than the last time. You remember: fourteen months. "Call in three months time And I'll be fine, I know. Well maybe not that fine, But I'll survive anyhow. I won't recall the names and faces Of this sad occasion, But that's no consolation Here and now. So what happens now? (Another suitcase in another hall.) So what happens now? (Take your picture off another wall.) Where am I going to? (You'll get by, you always have before.) Where am I going to? (Don't ask anymore.)" ** Another Suitcase In Another Hall from Evita Lyrics by Tim Rice; Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber