The first thought in my head when I woke today was "Wrecked."
***
I can work the bag or mitts for a long time. I can run and I can lift weights and I can Crossfit. Once, I walked all the way across San Francisco and it wasn't all that hard for me. My body holds me up pretty well.
But the last time I felt this wrecked was after I gave birth. And it's not just last night's sparring. It's the lack of sleep, which is less and less The Bug's fault lately, and it's my period (hey haters, see this blog's name if period talk makes you squirmy), and it's the bruises and the fucking shin pain, and it's this sore throat thing which is now livable but still lingering a month later.
***
Not hitting is harder than hitting, said Mister Aran this morning, and it's true. I can drill mitts and heavy bags all goddamn day, but my first round of sparring I couldn't even fucking jab. I barely defended myself. And I know this, I know this shit. I've been hit, I promise. I was so nervous and uncomfortable with all those strangers, and they were none too happy to have to work with me and explain everything, and I just felt so fucking ugly and clueless. Yeah, ugly. I'm a girl, and it comes down to that. If you can't hang with the boys, you really should be attractive to them so at least they won't sigh when it's their turn to work with you.
God, it's just so hard on my brain. I hate being new at things, I hate failing, I hate looking like an idiot, but that's life. Risks suck, but there's a reason we take them.
I have no heart, but I want to learn. I'm going back because for nine months now, I've been scared every day, every night, of something happening, of getting hurt, or of The Bug getting hurt, and of death. It's become too all-encompassing. It's strangling me. I can't write for fear of it. I think of David Chapelle, when he said getting booed off the Apollo stage was the best thing for him, because it was the worst kind of failure, and he survived it. So I'm going to go in there and get hit in the face, and get bruises up and down my legs, and wake up feeling wrecked, and risk getting hurt, and risk looking stupid, and risk the boys not liking me. And I'm going to read this book Stiff, which I just bought, and I'm going to go have lunch with Celeste, who worried me sick by getting into a horrible car accident over the weekend. I have to get out of this comfort zone, because it's uncomfortable. It's not even safe. It's just an illusion.
And this morning, I came home from breakfast, sat down, and started writing fiction again. I had to break out of something. And if burying a wiry boy's knee into my lower shin was what it took, then I'm glad it happened. But fucking ow.
posted by Samus @ 11:31 AM
4 Comments:
You are brave. Maybe courage is about doing stuff when you're scared shitless, but it looks brave to me.
Have you watched the HBO series Six Feet Under--it's all on DVD now. It sleighed me. You'd either love it or hate it. I don't want to be held responsible for assuming you'd like it (cough *blue angel* cough)...
But it doesn't shy away from anything and it's real and in talking about death and facing it, I actually found I was uplifted much of the time.
i have so many, so many things to update you on.
so many things i cannot even blog about which is saying a lot about the calibur of the information.
i have more stories for you, too.
I so want to heal and take the class with you. Then make the boys pay in blood!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hurting my Sarah! Unacceptable.
Jordan: I never did get into Six Feet Under. I watched most of the first season. I don't know; maybe I was in the wrong space. I was really into West Wing at the time.
Sabrina: I'll log on to chat soon. I can't wait to hear the new developments. I have your story here on my to-read list, too!
Celeste: Do me.
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