How Tom Petty Taught Me to Ice Skate

This was written in 2016 and originally posted to my Medium.com page. I am reposting here on the one-year anniversary of the day we lost Tom Petty. 

Two hours, four days a week. That was my Kid-Free Time to Myself total last year. The amount of stuff I could get done in those eight hours would knock your socks off. Unless you are a mother, in which case you would be like, “Yeah that sounds about right.”

When your Get Stuff Done time is limited you learn to be incredibly efficient at errands and tasks. Which is why it seemed revolutionary and a little scandalous when I decided to spend one of my precious mornings each week ice skating. By myself.

I realized that the local ice skating rink had open skate time on Thursdays while my youngest was at preschool. I had taken my oldest ice skating a couple of times and gotten good enough so I could skate around at a decent speed without falling or running into other people. I had no idea how to stop, but it’s not like stopping is an important skill or anything.

So one morning I decided to drop my daughter at preschool, head two towns over, and ice skate. By myself. At ten o’clock on a Thursday morning.

The place was pretty empty except for a small group of older people who were all decked out in their skating gear and were obviously regulars. I rented my skates, paid the entrance fee, and got on the ice.

“Take it to the Limit” was playing on the sound system, and it echoed around the mostly empty rink in a way that I decided was peaceful and not creepy.

The rink had just opened for the day, so the ice was shiny and perfectly smooth. As I skated around the perimeter at my beginner pace and watched an old man lap me twice, I noticed that my skates were cutting lines into the perfect ice.

“I’m ruining the ice!” I thought. Sharp little icicles of shame formed in my heart and I started the familiar one-woman tango of feeling bad about myself.

Then I remembered my favorite Tom Petty lyric: Think of me what you will, I’ve got a little space to fill. Tom Petty (my Personal Rock God and Musical Savior) reminded me that the simple fact of my existence gives me the right to take up space and make marks in the ice. I paid my money, so I get to skate around in a slow ellipse and listen to the Eagles and Richard Marx with some nice retired people. Also, I am keeping the Zamboni driver employed.

I have a tendency to hide when left to my own devices. Sometimes I will get this sad invisible feeling, this existential loneliness that I feel even in a crowded room — especially in a crowded room. I’ve learned that this is a sign that I have been hiding.

I’ve identified a few masks that help me hide. Here are the top four:
1. The Stepford Wife: My life is perfect and I am handling everything like a boss!
2. The Giant Ear: I will use my killer listening skills to avoid having to ever volunteer any information about myself!
3. The Southern Belle: I will exhibit my best manners at all times, never asking for what I need or want!
4. The Pleasure to Have in Class: I am an obedient child and I will let the adults around me make my decisions, even if those adults are bagging my groceries or abusively honking at me!

Hiding feels safe, and then hiding feels lonely. At the ice skating rink I remembered that I have a right to be seen. As a grown up I have to choose to be seen if I want to be happy, even if that means scuffing up some perfectly smooth ice.

I wish I could always keep Tom Petty’s “think of me what you will” attitude top of mind. What I tend to default to is more of a “please never think anything negative or I will die” attitude.

But I’ve decided to fake it ’til I make it, and pretend that I could give a toss what anyone thinks of me, my ice skating hobby, my questionable math skills, my split ends, or any of the ways I fill my space.

Because it’s my space to fill. I hope you fill some space today in a way that makes you as happy as ice skating (and Tom Petty) make me.

Photo by udiscovermusic.com