By Cassidy Dover: "This Ends Tonight"

I'm insane.  Certifiably so at this point I think.  I feel like I'm stuck under a pile of boulders.  I'm trying to claw my way out and can't seem to find a way to do it.

I drove down our street and saw the house with the "Bank Owned" sign out front tonight.  It amazes me because the owners (or previous owners I guess) had just painted the outside.  The lawn looks fantastic. What was going on inside that house was clearly very different than what we all saw on the outside. 

They must have been so upset to lose their home.  I realize how thankful I should be that my house is overrun with stuff and I can't find a way to clean it out.  We pay our mortgage with no problems.  I get to go to the movies with my friends and we buy the overpriced popcorn and sodas.  We watch the film and get to escape from our reality without really worrying about how we are spending our money.

I run from activity to activity.  From doctor's appointments, dentists, chiropractors.  We have insurance and how we'll pay these bills isn't something I stress about.

I have great friends.  I have a supportive family.  I feel blessed for it all.

Yet here I am, feeling defeated.

I think back to when Ray was at the beginning of his career.  A prospect.  The moves up were plentiful.  The plateaus were frustrating.  Waiting for the "Big Call Up" a matter of time, not a matter of family survival.

Then my mind wanders to the time when we had no money.  Ray was out of a job and he had left to play independent ball because no team had offered him a contract.  We had enough money in the bank to either pay our mortgage or to pay our insurance premium.  I had to charge groceries to make ends meet.  We gave up a car.

I remember talking to my dear friend who's husband was doing great in baseball and telling her our issues.  She didn't offer pity, she offered hope.  She problem solved with me.  She offered to help yet Ray wanted nothing of help from a friend.

My parents offered us $3,000 to pay bills.  It was a loan for us to repay.  A friend from college's mom bought Ray's car outright for us after I had turned it in and called to tell me to go to the dealership and pick it up.  She said to pay her what we could, when we could.  She didn't care how long it took us to pay off that debt.  She just didn't want Ray to feel defeated.

Those friends' generosity was something that gave us hope.  We are almost done paying off the car (3 1/2 years later).  We are in a position to pay my parents back although they tell us not to.  They call that loan our "living inheritance."  We feel that money needs to be paid off.

The credit card bills are almost paid off entirely.  Financially our family is on its feet.

Yet Ray is in AAA.  I pray for the day he'll call and say, "I'm going back to the big leagues" because that would mean no winterball; time for our family to spend together in the offseason.  As each day turns into weeks and months, the dream of us spending four months together as a family looks like just that: a dream.

Sheridan is pushing her limits with me on an hourly basis.  All I want is to be filled with patience and kindness.  Yet I'm drowning here in my self-induced sadness.  This sadness makes my attitude fowl and my support fleeting.

Ray tells me I'm like that sour patch kid from the commercials.  He never knows who he's going to talk to.  Will I be sweet and supportive or will I lash out without warning.

Paying for the flights to see one another is a necessary evil in our life.  The city that Ray plays baseball in isn't a big hub.  The flights are limited and the cost is high.  I don't know how families do it .  I remember when we really couldn't.  We'd use miles, or wait for our friends to offer us their free tickets so that we could be together.  Now those prices are crazy to pay, but something we can afford.

I feel like I have lived through the depression at times.  I'm afraid to spend money on anything because I don't want to be frivolous and then in November see Ray go to winterball so that we can have enough money to get through to April 15th without having to go into debt again.

I think that I have put each boulder on top of myself.  I choose, although not on a conscious level, to bury myself under worry and despair.  My friends tell me I'm so supportive and so positive.  They say I see the bright side of things.

Well that's on the surface.  Not in my head.

There are times when Sheridan and I will be driving somewhere and I'll peak at her in the rearview mirror.  She's looking out the window and looks so far away.  "What are you thinking about?" I'll ask her. 

Many times she says, "Nothing mommy" and I worry about what is going on in her head.

One day Ray told me he knew I thought his career was over.  He was angry with me for saying such a thing.  I told him I never said that.  I asked him who told him I had said that and he said, "I have my sources."

I called my mom and my brother and let them have it.  I knew it was one of them.  They are the ones I call and I vent to when I'm feeling overwhelmed and trying to make sense of the fact that once again Ray is an insurance policy.  One that isn't cashed in on until a team feels they are ready to keep hold of him in the big leagues for the rest of the year.  If and when he is put on waivers and clears I get so upset that no teams can see his value as an asset to their big league team.  In truth it was Sheridan, having overheard me.  She had worried it was true and had asked her daddy. 

Ray has an amazing job.  He's not in an office working 9-5.  Yet he's away from his family.  We know his worth.  We feel his absence.  On my end, under my pile of rocks, my burden I place on myself, is my lack of comprehension as to how that same worth isn't weighed by baseball.  Why not him?  Why others?

I read an article about a father of one of the Mexican soccer teams who quit his job to travel to the World Cup to watch his son in that tournament no matter how many games they lasted.  He said in the article that no one is above the company (his had refused his request for him off to go and watch his son) but that the memories for his family of seeing his son play could never be replaced where he knew he'd find another job.

It made me think of our family.  We make memories, often separate from each other, yet family memories by the way we tell the story.  My friend who's mom recently passed away said, "What makes me the most sad is my youngest son won't remember my mom.  He'll remember her in the way you remember an experience that has been told to you so often by others you feel you remember being there, but you know it's not truly your memory."

I wonder if that's how Sheridan will remember these years with her dad.  I wonder if we should throw caution to the wind, travel to be with Ray no matter the cost and go from town to town and be there all summer.  Would that be better for her?  Would that help me to feel like a better mom than I do right now?  Am I taking away Sheridan's chance of building family memories because I personally can't imagine living out of a suitcase for a few months?  Should I just get over myself?  If we do that now will it be better than her having her daddy around during the offseason?

I pull up our bank account and try to weigh the options. I can't let go of the idea that Sheridan and I need to stay put and just visit Ray as we've planned this year.  Four or five days once or twice a month.  It's always worked in the past.  So why, recently, does this decision weigh me down?

Sometimes, after Sheridan is in bed and I've talked to Ray I find myself trying not to cry.  I sleep with the TV on so I don't have to listen to the thoughts in my mind.  Again, I'm insane.  I hear voices.  They are a mixture of mine, Ray's and those that I assign to a grown up Sheridan. 

In this crazy world and this crazy economy, should I rejoice at our good fortune or allow myself to sit here feeling sad for my family's situation?

In baseball, moves are made swiftly.  They affect the dynamics of a team for certain.  Yet they also have an effect on a player's family.  Not just today but in the way it's family dynamic must react and change with those decisions.

My radio is playing softly in the background.  A song is on.  It says, "When darkness turns to light, it ends tonight. Just a little insight won't make this right. It's too late to fight, it ends tonight, it ends tonight.  Tonight, inside, when darkness turns to light.  This ends tonight." (All - American Rejects, It Ends Tonight).

My only question is, what is it that ends tonight?  My insanity?  My self-imposed internal argument to which I know there is no clear answer?

Just writing it here makes me see places I can reach up and move the weight that is above me to the side.  I already feel I can start to push away some of the pain and concern.

I pray that when darkness turns to light that indeed, I see the light and can find strength in having remembered the feelings of despair and find a way to once again be thankful and still in our good fortune.

Thank you for reading,
Cassidy

Cassidy Dover has been a baseball wife for more than 10 years.  Her husband Ray, currently in the minor leagues, has spent part of 7 seaons in The Show.  Cassidy lives somewhere in America with her daughter Sheridan.  Right now, they're probably waiting for Ray to come home.