Wherever you have a gathering of humans, especially humans who have inter-dynamic relationships with each other, there seems to be the propensity for drama.
Yesterday, the hubs small bore rifle team had a match in Moyie Springs, Idaho. The range there is down in the earth, which is kinda cool because shooting guns underground feels like a super spy thing to do.
Yes, I am a bit of an easily amused infant.
Anyway, we have some dear friends that live up that way and arranged to meet them for dinner after the match, so even though I don't usually go to the team's matches with the hubs most of the time, I went this time because friendship reasons.
Another reason I don't tend to go is that small bore rifle matches aren't the most exciting thing to spectate. I mean, I will find something to do in any situation I happen to find myself in. Since I don't go to many of the hub's team's events, I am usually seen as a novelty when I am around and have no shortage of conversation to engage in. That said, seven hours of conversation straight whilst in the midst of competition drama is a bit wearing. That followed with dinner, grocery shopping, and an hour and a half drive, and well, we both were wiped out.
The match went splendidly! All of the kids on the team did really, really well, especially the young woman who is going to the Jr, Olympics in April. People came together and got her a brand new Walther competition rifle to use that cost more than a used car. It's a beautiful thing and she's really taking to it as it actually fits her. It's a pretty cool thing to watch.
As is the interpersonal dynamics of my husband's team and their families. There's always a bit of human drama when you get a lot of personalities together, and I found myself amused as I watched pre and during the competition nerves manifest in a myriad of ways.
Shooting small bore in a competitive setting involves far more mental fitness than target hitting talent. The hubs has spent a ton of time teaching the kids about mindset, breathing, and techniques to help them focus. They have shooting journals and all sorts of interesting tweaks and techniques to help them zero in mentally for and during competition. It is not uncommon to see a thirteen year old girl with a towel over her eyes between shooting prone or standing targets or to pause from sipping coffee and helping a teen tighten a sling buckle before they take the line.
The parents are all there to support their kiddos, and by support it usually means sitting at a table for several hours, sipping energy drinks and coffee, snacking on the muffins that some of the range locals baked, and being a calming presence when one of the kids come out and try to worry about the outcome instead of the process.
I find it all incredibly fascinating. Because not only do I get to witness the reality of shooting sports competition, I also get to absorb the reality that is the personalities of the people who are involved in it. I learned that one mother absolutely adores rock hounding and wants to live the van life. Which honestly sounds pretty fun, especially if you have spent your career as a journalist for a local newspaper.
I learned about the abusive childhoods of some of the parents from things both said and unsaid, I got to see pictures of horses from a life left behind from others. I know who's having trouble in their marriages, who's stressed from work, why being a hospice case worker is draining to one's carcass and soul even though it's noble work, and who's on the edge of burning out.
And that's just the parents, I haven't even got to the kids yet.
One thing that is beyond apparent, is they all love the hubs. He sits and knits while the kids are all out of the line, making comments occasionally in a way that can only be described as a competent crusty marshmallow coach manner. He's the lynchpin of it all, the solid Easter Island statue of a man that holds it all together, and I have to say I am slightly in awe of him.
Because at the same time all of this is going on, there's a bit of a pariah in the midst. For the past several years there has been a situation that has been brewing that has reached its boiling point. I can't go into great detail here, but its theme is one that most of us have probably encountered.
Just this morning I read an opinion piece about how over-involved parenting has yielded the most fragile, non-resilient, loneliest and depressed generation ever. In fact, the article struck me so much that I will probably do a reaction post on it in the future, but in the context of this post, let's just say that my husband's shooting team is dealing with the reality that results from that kind of parenting.
When you snowplow every bit of adversity out of your child's way you are setting them up for distress. When you label your kids with all manner of alphabet acronyms, you are telling them that those things can define their behavior based upon how they feel instead of teaching them to feel things and then reframe it not as a victim but as a living, feeling human who has a choice on how to view the world. Instead of letting our kids experience life as individuals we have so over surveillanced them that we have driven the drive of independence right out of them.
Long story short, we have harmed an entire generation trying to prevent them from experiencing any distress.
And right in the midst of my husband's shooting team is one of those young people. I've been watching the situation develop over the past few years, and I feel for the particular young person who has been molded into a conniving, perpetual victim become more isolated, more devious, and more disruptive with each passing day.
Yesterday, it reached its apex. The problem with over-parenting is that people stay perpetually adolescent, and you get adults that cannot face or handle adversity. They then can't view any situation with out being the distressed victim and instead of focusing on what they can control, they try to control everyone else to get the result that they want, regardless of the harm or discomfort it causes others.
So now, even though my husband is tired, and even though his team is tired and did a great job, now there has to be a reckogning of this situation and the drama it caused. Instead of just celebrating as a team, there has to be consequences and division. All because of control.
My hope for the future is that we as a species come to realize that a controlled world in the name of benevolence is just as damaging as an iron fist type of controlled world. We are doing our young people no favors when we try to create a reality where our kids feel happy all the time and don't experience any distress if they don't get the outcome that they think they deserve.
There is so much work to do. Mental health issues are at a epidemic crisis point and hiding from it is going to make the problem worse. Every time I want to get overwhelmed by the largess of it all, I just think of my husband knitting his purple scarf, pausing to get up and get the targets out of the O'Ryan machine, and seeing the delight on all of the faces of the participants, parents, and his own awesome mug as they take in the results of everyone's cooperative hard work. It's all completely worth it and very, very necessary.
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's didn't work so great underground iPhone.