Post by Melinda Rhodes on Jun 2, 2024 0:25:11 GMT -6
Funny thing about time zones. A flight from Savannah, Georgia, USA to Phnom Penh, Cambodia is about 20 hours. It's already the morning of June 2nd when we landed at the Capital City Airport a world away from where we started. As school's out for the summer, I decided to bring Lana with me and of course, she's got her momma's curiosity. This place, however, was one of the few times I didn't have answers for her. I'd never been to Cambodia before so it was all new to me. We'd seen more than a few sights, making a day of it together. Checked out the Independence Monument, Tuol Tompoung Market, The Silver Pagoda, Royal Palace, and Tuol Sleng, which we found out was a Genocide Museum... kinda' a downer moment, but couldn't all be hits. The two of us are walking side by side, eating some grilled meat skewers we bought from a street vendor. Shit was tasty, not gonna' lie.
"Got a question for you," Lana asks suddenly.
"Shoot hon," I respond.
We stop on the busy street corner, waiting for traffic to subside. People are walking past us totally not caring who I am. I will admit that it's nice to go somewhere and not be immediately recognized by people in my street clothes. Everywhere I go, people typically know this face, but in Cambodia, I was just another American Tourist out with her kid, enjoying the sights.
Lana's only quiet for a moment, thinking hard on how to word her question I bet. Mouth like a sailor but always thinking. I guess she got that trait from her father. I certainly have a time with thinking before I speak, naturally.
"So you've been wrestling most of your life, gotten all these trophies and titles, working for the biggest wrestling company in the world, and yet you are always doubting yourself. Why?"
I'm immediately uncomfortable, but doing my best to put on a cool front.
"What makes you think that?" I ask as cool as a cucumber.
"When I was recording your promo on Amis, you kind of held back a bit and as we've gotten closer to the show, you've had moments where you seem kinda distant, like you're lost in thought or something."
Goddamn was she good at seeing through a front. I take a nice big bite of one of the grilled chunks of chicken on the skewer in my hand, taking a moment to chew it while I thought of a way to respond. Could I bullshit her? Nah, because I love her too much and don't want to be the kind of parent that isn't 100% on the level with their kid.
"Truth? All my life, I've felt like a failure. I've just fucked up so many times, sweetie. I think it's a hell of a miracle that I have fans, you know?"
"In school, they called that imposter syndrome."
Woah that came outta' left field. I was about to get to that. I couldn't hide my surprise that she knew what that even was.
"Well hell, they starting psychology courses in middle school now?" I say half joking.
She shrugs, adjusting the ball cap on her head.
"Nah, just something I picked up from the school counselor during one of our sessions. She was telling me the reason I get into fights all the time was because I lack confidence in myself, that I have all this ability and talent, but I don't believe in it."
I just stared at her, a bit in disbelief because this was the first I'd heard of any of it. I just thought she was rowdy like I was at her age.
"I always feel like I have something to prove even when there's nothing to prove. I feel like that's kind of what's going on with you," she adds.
I nod, biting the last piece of chicken off and then tossing the stick into a nearby trashcan. She takes her last couple of bites and does the same.
"Nail on the head, hon. Been struggling with that for awhile. Ever since I lost the International Championship all those years ago before I got fired from EWC during my first run, I'd doubted myself. I spent most of my life so confident in myself that I'd walk into any fight cocky and owning the room. Truth is that nobody challenged me like EWC has and I'd been so used to being the queen of whatever wrestling company I went to that it was a foreign concept to just be... well... average. Up until then, I'd known winning far more than losing and when I lost that IC belt... I'd lost my faith."
We finally cross the street when the traffic clears up enough and start on the long trek back to the hotel.
"So one loss was all it took?" Lana asks plainly.
"It was more than that and compounded by the fact that I repeated history, won it and lost it again on the first defense just like last time and it was damn near a career ender to boot. Stuff like that can kill someone on a spiritual level, you know? It's one thing to lose in a championship match, but to be on the defense and it's only the first round? Yeah you start thinking that you're just not worth a crap."
"You're facing the best wrestlers in the world, Mom. Of course it's gonna' be hard."
"You ain't just whistling Dixie there."
"Maybe just relax and, you know, do what you really want and not what you think others want. It's like you always tell me. Do what you think is right, not what somebody tells you to believe is right."
I put an arm around her shoulder and give my little girl a single arm hug.
"Another thing you got from your, Dad. The ability to know the right thing to say and when to say it."
Her shoulders slump a bit.
"I miss him."
"I know, hon. You'll get to see him next weekend."
She looks me in my eyes, a little flash of anger in hers.
"Why did you both have to divorce? You were both so cool and then suddenly, you weren't."
Anytime I mention him, we go through this and all I can do is sigh and shake my head.
"We no longer wanted the same things. The love had faded and we were fighting all the time. We both agreed to split and that was the end of that."
"Maybe think about your daughter when making such huge decisions!"
As we now were standing in front of the hotel, she storms off through the doors, heading straight for the elevator and likely up to the room. She's never taken our divorce well. Lana loves her Dad and he's still a good man at his core, but all the fights we had, our career choices taking us in different directions, we couldn't reconcile anything anymore. Part of me regrets it, but I don't miss the arguments and shouting matches, having our relationship held hostage over my dreams... those fucking 'I told you so's' he gave me when I got injured.
I slip my hands in my pockets and take a little walk around the block, lost in my thoughts as I do so. She made some great points. Imposter syndrome is something I've fought my whole life. I've never been totally secure in myself, which always lead to me having issues and problems... It's a common trait of choke artists everywhere, one I've been trying my damnedest to overcome. It's my one constant struggle in life. I've put on a front, bluffing my way through life because even with all my experience, skill, and knowledge, it almost never seems like it's enough. I see others go through this biz effortlessly while I struggle always. Maybe they put up better fronts than me? Fuck if I know. All I know is that this match has had me on edge.
Amis Shelton is someone who has proven himself, even if I think what he's doing now is very punk bitch of him. I still remember who he was before he was Victor Price's right hand man or a stooge to anyone. I respected him alot more, but then at some point he got desperate enough to subjugate himself to the powers that be for an easy ride. He's got the talent, he's proven it time and again while I've comeback on such a flat fucking note that I wonder why I'm even in this damn match. I feel like Caleb Scott and him should get a match, considering how things turned out, but here we are.... all this pressure on my shoulders and then if I win, then what? I face one of my best friends and it's always an uphill battle against people I love like family. Darkwater is not only like family to me, but dude's currently the BEST wrestler on Monday Night Brawl.
Is it Imposter Syndrome if it turns out that they're right and I'm just a washed up has been that should just hang it up? I mean I've already been pretty much reduced to a piece of shit by Amis in his promo. I win, sure it'd be huge, but if he wins, nobody really gets anything and I'm just a proven piece of shit at that point. Nah, I can't just curl into a ball and give up. I gotta' fight... I gotta' because it's the right thing to do and I ain't about to quit. EWC for life... I bleed Brawl Red motherfuckers.
"Got a question for you," Lana asks suddenly.
"Shoot hon," I respond.
We stop on the busy street corner, waiting for traffic to subside. People are walking past us totally not caring who I am. I will admit that it's nice to go somewhere and not be immediately recognized by people in my street clothes. Everywhere I go, people typically know this face, but in Cambodia, I was just another American Tourist out with her kid, enjoying the sights.
Lana's only quiet for a moment, thinking hard on how to word her question I bet. Mouth like a sailor but always thinking. I guess she got that trait from her father. I certainly have a time with thinking before I speak, naturally.
"So you've been wrestling most of your life, gotten all these trophies and titles, working for the biggest wrestling company in the world, and yet you are always doubting yourself. Why?"
I'm immediately uncomfortable, but doing my best to put on a cool front.
"What makes you think that?" I ask as cool as a cucumber.
"When I was recording your promo on Amis, you kind of held back a bit and as we've gotten closer to the show, you've had moments where you seem kinda distant, like you're lost in thought or something."
Goddamn was she good at seeing through a front. I take a nice big bite of one of the grilled chunks of chicken on the skewer in my hand, taking a moment to chew it while I thought of a way to respond. Could I bullshit her? Nah, because I love her too much and don't want to be the kind of parent that isn't 100% on the level with their kid.
"Truth? All my life, I've felt like a failure. I've just fucked up so many times, sweetie. I think it's a hell of a miracle that I have fans, you know?"
"In school, they called that imposter syndrome."
Woah that came outta' left field. I was about to get to that. I couldn't hide my surprise that she knew what that even was.
"Well hell, they starting psychology courses in middle school now?" I say half joking.
She shrugs, adjusting the ball cap on her head.
"Nah, just something I picked up from the school counselor during one of our sessions. She was telling me the reason I get into fights all the time was because I lack confidence in myself, that I have all this ability and talent, but I don't believe in it."
I just stared at her, a bit in disbelief because this was the first I'd heard of any of it. I just thought she was rowdy like I was at her age.
"I always feel like I have something to prove even when there's nothing to prove. I feel like that's kind of what's going on with you," she adds.
I nod, biting the last piece of chicken off and then tossing the stick into a nearby trashcan. She takes her last couple of bites and does the same.
"Nail on the head, hon. Been struggling with that for awhile. Ever since I lost the International Championship all those years ago before I got fired from EWC during my first run, I'd doubted myself. I spent most of my life so confident in myself that I'd walk into any fight cocky and owning the room. Truth is that nobody challenged me like EWC has and I'd been so used to being the queen of whatever wrestling company I went to that it was a foreign concept to just be... well... average. Up until then, I'd known winning far more than losing and when I lost that IC belt... I'd lost my faith."
We finally cross the street when the traffic clears up enough and start on the long trek back to the hotel.
"So one loss was all it took?" Lana asks plainly.
"It was more than that and compounded by the fact that I repeated history, won it and lost it again on the first defense just like last time and it was damn near a career ender to boot. Stuff like that can kill someone on a spiritual level, you know? It's one thing to lose in a championship match, but to be on the defense and it's only the first round? Yeah you start thinking that you're just not worth a crap."
"You're facing the best wrestlers in the world, Mom. Of course it's gonna' be hard."
"You ain't just whistling Dixie there."
"Maybe just relax and, you know, do what you really want and not what you think others want. It's like you always tell me. Do what you think is right, not what somebody tells you to believe is right."
I put an arm around her shoulder and give my little girl a single arm hug.
"Another thing you got from your, Dad. The ability to know the right thing to say and when to say it."
Her shoulders slump a bit.
"I miss him."
"I know, hon. You'll get to see him next weekend."
She looks me in my eyes, a little flash of anger in hers.
"Why did you both have to divorce? You were both so cool and then suddenly, you weren't."
Anytime I mention him, we go through this and all I can do is sigh and shake my head.
"We no longer wanted the same things. The love had faded and we were fighting all the time. We both agreed to split and that was the end of that."
"Maybe think about your daughter when making such huge decisions!"
As we now were standing in front of the hotel, she storms off through the doors, heading straight for the elevator and likely up to the room. She's never taken our divorce well. Lana loves her Dad and he's still a good man at his core, but all the fights we had, our career choices taking us in different directions, we couldn't reconcile anything anymore. Part of me regrets it, but I don't miss the arguments and shouting matches, having our relationship held hostage over my dreams... those fucking 'I told you so's' he gave me when I got injured.
I slip my hands in my pockets and take a little walk around the block, lost in my thoughts as I do so. She made some great points. Imposter syndrome is something I've fought my whole life. I've never been totally secure in myself, which always lead to me having issues and problems... It's a common trait of choke artists everywhere, one I've been trying my damnedest to overcome. It's my one constant struggle in life. I've put on a front, bluffing my way through life because even with all my experience, skill, and knowledge, it almost never seems like it's enough. I see others go through this biz effortlessly while I struggle always. Maybe they put up better fronts than me? Fuck if I know. All I know is that this match has had me on edge.
Amis Shelton is someone who has proven himself, even if I think what he's doing now is very punk bitch of him. I still remember who he was before he was Victor Price's right hand man or a stooge to anyone. I respected him alot more, but then at some point he got desperate enough to subjugate himself to the powers that be for an easy ride. He's got the talent, he's proven it time and again while I've comeback on such a flat fucking note that I wonder why I'm even in this damn match. I feel like Caleb Scott and him should get a match, considering how things turned out, but here we are.... all this pressure on my shoulders and then if I win, then what? I face one of my best friends and it's always an uphill battle against people I love like family. Darkwater is not only like family to me, but dude's currently the BEST wrestler on Monday Night Brawl.
Is it Imposter Syndrome if it turns out that they're right and I'm just a washed up has been that should just hang it up? I mean I've already been pretty much reduced to a piece of shit by Amis in his promo. I win, sure it'd be huge, but if he wins, nobody really gets anything and I'm just a proven piece of shit at that point. Nah, I can't just curl into a ball and give up. I gotta' fight... I gotta' because it's the right thing to do and I ain't about to quit. EWC for life... I bleed Brawl Red motherfuckers.
