Why I Spend Sundays Watching Football
My writing is very personal. Even though it's fiction, it's born from the dark recesses of my mind and personal experiences. It comes from a place that the people around me can't get to. Don't get me wrong; I have an amazing support system, and therefore am better able to handle my depression than a lot of people. But when I go deep into myself in order to write, I don't take anyone with me. And while it needs to be that way, it can be lonely for me and isolating for my closest loved ones.
So come fall, I spend my Sundays watching football. My husband is a die-hard Chicago Bears fan. Raised by a Chicagoan, I also grew up cheering for the Bears. Granted, when I met my husband, I knew little of the nuances of the game; I knew when the Bears scored a touchdown, and I got mad when they lost, but that was about it. Nearly 8 years into marriage now, however, football's become a big deal for me.
Why?
Because it's something I can share with my husband. It's something we can talk about. It's something we can bond over. It's time we spend together. It's a few short hours a week when I'm not shutting him out so that I can work, or we're wrangling the baby, or focusing on helping our older girls with homework, or fighting over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.
It's my time to be a wife, rather than a mother, or an author, or a chronic pain patient, or a sufferer of depression. It gives me a way to connect. It may seem superficial, connecting over a bunch of guys fighting over a pigskin; maybe some think it would be better if I could connect over the dark shit that goes on inside my head. But this is what works for me. It's fun. It's easy. And it means something to my husband that I learned to care so much about something that's always been important to him.
That's why I spend my Sundays watching football.
That being said, Go Bears!
So come fall, I spend my Sundays watching football. My husband is a die-hard Chicago Bears fan. Raised by a Chicagoan, I also grew up cheering for the Bears. Granted, when I met my husband, I knew little of the nuances of the game; I knew when the Bears scored a touchdown, and I got mad when they lost, but that was about it. Nearly 8 years into marriage now, however, football's become a big deal for me.
Why?
Because it's something I can share with my husband. It's something we can talk about. It's something we can bond over. It's time we spend together. It's a few short hours a week when I'm not shutting him out so that I can work, or we're wrangling the baby, or focusing on helping our older girls with homework, or fighting over whose turn it is to clean the kitchen.
It's my time to be a wife, rather than a mother, or an author, or a chronic pain patient, or a sufferer of depression. It gives me a way to connect. It may seem superficial, connecting over a bunch of guys fighting over a pigskin; maybe some think it would be better if I could connect over the dark shit that goes on inside my head. But this is what works for me. It's fun. It's easy. And it means something to my husband that I learned to care so much about something that's always been important to him.
That's why I spend my Sundays watching football.
That being said, Go Bears!
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