Molly Belle: My Letter

Well. It sure has been a minute, hasn’t it? Fightful faithful. Wrestling fans. Old souls still dedicating time to the written word. In other words, my people. I’ve missed you.

 

If you’ll allow me a few paragraphs to ramble, I promise I’ll give you a smile or two after. Deal?

 

Almost a whole year. A lot happens in a year. Way too much to fit into the time I’m willing to commit to this perfectly beautiful moment.

 

I mean, I’ve popped up here and there for a little bit on socials, but these days it’s almost always short-lived. My relationship with those spaces hasn’t ever been very strong. Or perhaps it’s me that isn’t strong enough. And that’s OK! It truly is the epitome of the old trope, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

 

The times I’ve poked my head back out, it’s always because of the relationships and friendships I’ve forged in the wastelands that used to be Twitter. The IWC. That gives me the willies even still. But it changed my life. Truly. Finding the wonderful bit of wrestling Twitter (and there was one if you looked hard enough) was akin to being lost in the dark and finally seeing a glimmering spot of light in the distance.

 

My world immediately brightened for the better during a time when the world faced total uncertainty in the midst of the pandemic. Wrestling has always been my person. I always thought that was kinda sad. Until I met a host of others who shared experiences eerily similar and used professional wrestling just like I had always done. Within months, I felt less alone. I felt useful. I felt hope. And I felt valued. All because of wrestling. And you all.

 

From there it’s been lots of highs and lots of lows. Social media does a lot of good, but I’ve personally seen and felt a lot of the bad as well. And over time, I learned how ill-equipped I was and sometimes still am to handle lots of that. I pretended for a long time that I was, but if you let it get to you online, it can so easily bleed into the rest of your life as well. At the end of the day, I’m just not willing to sacrifice my peace offline with the nasty that exists and sometimes finds me online. If that makes sense. So, I’ve mastered the Irish goodbye. And I don’t hesitate to protect my peace. Ever.

 

Anyway. Back to the perfectly beautiful moment I mentioned. During this last year between articles, life has been ok. Curveballs aplenty, but so it goes, you know? Though wrestling has remained my person, I haven’t much felt the urge or need to write or engage. It’s easy to simply exist on the fringe of this thing of ours, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer it sometimes. There is no risk there. No judging. No nonsense. No hate.

 

The thing about wearing your heart on your sleeve is that you’re always exposed. As much as I just want to spread some light and positivity, I cannot help but to attract the opposite too. And that’s always been very hard for me.

 

I write with my heart. I rip it out and splatter it onto the screen every time I type. Every word. Every article. Always. Don’t get me wrong, that’s what I enjoy. I wouldn’t change it. Not for a second. But to be able to do it, I have to feel it. And every time I come back with full intentions to write and write and write, the spark fades as the noise around me gets incrementally louder.

 

So, that’s what makes this moment – this one right now – so perfectly beautiful and special. Because I feel it. And I’m about to lay my heart bare for everyone to see again. Maybe this is the first of many. Maybe it’s the first of a couple. Maybe this is it. I can’t say for sure. Just enjoy it with me one more time. What do you say?

 

I know how valuable time is for everyone. None of it is promised to any of us. I’d be honored if you spent a little more with me today. Truly.

 

Let’s rip it old school. Warm and fuzzy all the way to the end.

 

If you’re anything like me, professional wrestling holds at least a small portion of your personal identity hostage. Hostage might be a strong word choice, because I think we’re all willing, but just between you and me – hostage sounds cooler. Here I am, spending a Wednesday evening writing about it and here you are, spending ten to fifteen minutes of your day reading actual words about wrestling when you could be watching it! Or touching grass. Or working. Or kissing your partner. Or doing an infinite number of other things. The point is, in our own ways, we chose wrestling. Over and over again. And we’ll continue to. Because it’s extraordinary.

 

I think that’s a beautiful thing.

 

Because life is hard, y’all. Like, it’s really hard. And it never gives in. Never rests. Never gets tired of testing us. And we’re just supposed to deal with that like it’s this perfectly acceptable normal thing.

 

One thing wrestling always does so well is that it exists for us as we need it to. It might mean a thousand different things for a thousand different people at any given moment. Good, bad, indifferent – it helps us all process things. It might just be a laugh or smile after a bad day (or a good one!). A particular story might be the escape we need when things get really bad. Another might mimic something we’ve experienced or wish to. Yet another we may be able to attach ourselves to on an emotional level that we’re not able to anywhere else. We invest and we care. And in doing so, wrestling cures.

 

More beautiful still, we come back to see more. Week to week. It’s very literally a lifeline for some. It’s something to look forward to for those who have nothing else. That’s certainly a couple of extreme examples, I know. But still. We watch religiously because we’re connected to it. I think there is a large portion of fans who haven’t yet unwrapped why their connections as adults to this thing of ours exists so deeply. And they may never do so. That’s OK!

 

I’m an AEW girlie. Since day one. Unapologetically. Through the great times and the less so. They are all I watch regularly. God bless those who can watch more, but I just can’t. No shade to anyone who prefers other promotions. Not one bit. I only say what I enjoy for context. Professional wrestling is a melting pot. It’s at its best when it is. I really do feel that every single person alive could and would be a wrestling fan if they just tried for long enough. If you can’t find wrestling you enjoy out there – at a time when choices are plenty – you’re just not looking hard enough.

 

Anyway, I watched AEW: All In last weekend. The emotions I felt watching that show, you guys. Words can’t do them justice. But I’ll try anyway.

 

It was warm. Very literally. It radiated everything I love about professional wrestling. It took these things that I crave seeing and feeling and wrapped them all up in a tidy bloody little bow. TK books what he likes, and God bless him for it, because that’s what I like too. So, when AEW exclaims that, “it’s for the sickos,” or that it’s, “where the best come to wrestle,” or that any certain thing is, “for us?” Yeah, I feel that.

 

I laughed. I cried (often). I smiled so much my cheeks hurt the next day. My heart felt as full as I remember it ever feeling during a single show. I marveled at the talent, the multiple stories culminating, and at the decision-making. I felt enormously grateful for the attention they paid to making fans happy throughout. That’s not always the case, or even possible.

 

My heart shattered for Adam Cole, then melted for Adam Copeland, then exploded for Adam Page. I sat very literally sweating as Toni and Mercedes gave me a top three women’s match of my lifetime. I crumbled in tears as I absorbed the emotion on Dustin’s face when he won his match and erupted as Mark Briscoe narrowly missed out on a shot at the title. Ups. Downs. Everything in between. When AEW lines up a hanging breaking ball, they so very rarely miss knocking it another sixty feet over the wall. For everything ever said about storytelling in that promotion, those folks clearly aren’t watching. Or maybe they’re just not letting themselves watch the right way. Peel away the bullshit and the noise and just watch like you did when you were a kid. Just one time.

 

This was just one show. And that was just me. It warms my whole heart to know that for every show that airs or exists, someone feels what I felt. It radiates to someone. Even if it’s just a single solitary person. I know that to be true. And that is the magic of what we have all chosen to obsess over. Some of us since childhood.

 

At its very best, professional wrestling isn’t even wrestling. It’s feeling. It’s emotions. That’s what hooked me at six and that’s what will keep me hooked at sixty. Sure, who doesn’t love flippy stuff? I’m a sucker for it. Anyone who knows me knows that to be true. A great match will leave me as breathless as I’ve ever been. But if you hit me with some feeling…

 

That’s the good stuff. That’s the stuff that will keep me around forever and ever. Make me ugly cry. Make me smile. Make me rage. Make me love. There aren’t many things in life that can emotionally exhaust someone like wrestling can. And we keep coming back!

 

Round here, we always will.

 

It’s been a year. Thank you for spending a little time with me. Whatever wrestling you enjoy, enjoy with your whole heart. Remember from time to time how lucky we are to love something like this. Because it’s special, just like each and every one of you. Until next time…

 

Muah!