Month: January 2017

Daily Post 001: First Day Back at the Dojo

Standard

I couldn’t hang for all three hours at the dojo. I mean… I could have, and then regretted every part of that decision. But nope. This is me learning from all of the past mistakes of pushing too hard too fast.

Jujitsu was first tonight, and that had a TON of people. A lot of them I knew so even though there were significantly more people than I am used to, I wasn’t as overwhelmed as I probably would have been only a short month ago.

It was fantastic being able to tell everyone happy new year. I saw Paul and Jim and Akib and Roman and Tommy and Adanous and several other people who I don’t remember their names… but for being awful with names I’m doing surprisingly well.

I didn’t see Carolina tonight. Hopefully, she’s there tomorrow.

The class was good. Us white belts practiced chokes from back mount. I’ve done them before, but only once, so doing them again was nice. At the end, we did three rounds of sparring. I tapped one guy out with one of the chokes we had just gone over, so that was nice. Validation that I do some things right other than not get choked out myself.

I thought about not staying for Muay Thai. I wasn’t sure if I was up for it or not, but when Paul had everyone line up so we could bow out he said, “If you’re staying for Muay Thai get your gear on.” And somehow without realizing it I was in the locker room getting my gloves, shin guards, and mouth guard along with another bottle of water… So… I guess I was staying.

Muay Thai wasn’t as intense as jujitsu, and I say that from the perspective of comparing them to each other. It’s interesting to look back and compare both of these classes to things I’ve done in the past. They’re definitely on a different level than anything I’ve ever done at the YMCA. I think the only thing comparable would be a boot camp class I did while visiting my older brother a few years back. It was something I went to with Lio at the gym on the Air Force base, and that class was no joke. I’m pretty sure if looks could kill the instructor would have been dead when he told me to do more squats that day.

It amuses me, but also makes me feel cared for when we start doing body shots and the guys ask if they’re hitting me too hard with a worried look on their face.

Being a masochist I can fully attest to there being different kinds of pain. Having been in legitimately abusive relationships I can also attest to the fact that there is a difference between consensual BDSM actives and abuse.

I know I can take a hit in both situations. I also know my pain tolerance is higher than most people I have interacted with. So when I get what basically amounts to a love tap and the guys look at me like their about to break me or something it’s sweet and cute in a, “You poor thing, you. You have no idea” sort of way.

 

Me: “No, really. You can come at me, bro.”

 

Usually, the level doesn’t get set until I throw my punches or kicks. I’m still focusing on technique so I’m not going all out like I would if we were doing bag work, but I strike with intention. Once my drill partner sees what I’m comfortable with they normally match it, or go at their level with the understanding of I’m ok with what we’re doing.

It helps that this was the second time I was paired off with Roman. He’s a pretty cool guy. He talked to me more this time. He gave me some tips during the drills like keeping my elbow tucked. Small reminders about things that are important and that I forget as I try to remember everything else I’m supposed to remember about my form.

To me, it’s thoughtful. He doesn’t have to help me get better, but he is, and that means a lot to me. I always say thank you when someone at the dojo offers me advice on how to improve.

Once we bowed out for Muay Thai I thought about staying for submission grappling. By then I was out of water. I could have gotten more from the sink, but Florida water sucks. If you have ever had Florida tap water you know the struggle is real. I also figured it was better to go home and eat since I’ve had a hard time eating for the last little bit.

I’ve still had at least one meal every day, so I have that going for me. I’m hoping with getting back into the routine of the dojo and dance classes and my metabolizing picking back up the issue will fix itself. I know the “not eating” thing is from the emotions of the holiday season and the stress of traveling. Workouts forced me to eat. Going for ten days without much physical activity meant there wasn’t anything going on to force me to intake.

Well, now there is, Body. Suck it up and eat this dericious salad or else.

I also rationalized that after ten days I should ease into things. Going for two relatively light runs and then hurling myself into three hours of intense physical activity isn’t really easing… Hooray for type A personalities.

I could feel my body getting tired, too. A good tired, but if I was already tired at the beginning of submission grappling, then I most likely would be too tired to spar by the time we got to the end of the class, which is really what I would be staying for.

So as I was sitting against the wall watching the class start I decided that I had done well for the day. I had done literally all of the errands I had wanted to do. I had gone to therapy and dealt with not only my emotions of the trip and mom not being physically present for the holidays, but also tackled my angst with the apartment.

I had come home and talked to Warren and we figured out a system which should work for us as far as the chores and dog fur are concerned, so hopefully our situation will feel less one sided now.

Warren and I talked about potential job opportunities for him to look into since I’ve heard a few things that might be of interest to him. We even talked about me not taking the contract for California and started probing options I could look into here.

Surprisingly I might go back into teaching. It would be at a community college instead of Full Sail. I need to do research, but the thought of teaching again makes me happy. I didn’t resign from my job because I hated the job. I left because of the company.

So yeah, a lot of positive progress was made in several areas, and I had already done two hours of intense training. Nope. Going to go home and have dinner and drink more water, and organize my closet and cuddle with my cat and maybe cross stitch while listening to an audio book… all of that after I shower because I swear I lost half my body weight through sweat.

It was a good day. Slow to start, but good. I’m glad I’m back at it with the dojo. Jim asked me as I was leaving if I was going to be there tomorrow night. I have dance class tomorrow, but I should be able to get to the dojo for the last hour which would be more Muay Thai. I think I’m going to do it. I want to be there. We’ll see if it works out.

That’s about it. Good day. Good work out. New bruises. I’m going to label my day as done and go indulge my quirky INFJness obsession for organizing things.

Daily Post 000: Starting The New Year

Standard

So it’s the new year. Hooray. 2016 died the horrible death it deserved.

That means with my tracking system for daily posts we’re back to the beginning. A new beginning.

I’m happy to report that I’m back to being mostly normal. No more irrational post-travel rage. I think a lot of that has to do with things easing back into normalcy.

Big Bad and I finally got to see each other. It was only for a few hours yesterday. He still isn’t feeling well with whatever respiratory infection is going around. It was an extremely pleasant visit, though.

We played some matches of Soul Calibur. He was actually doing practice rounds with his favorite character when I showed up. How unfair is that? Pretty sure we need to classify that as cheating since I can’t practice. I mean, seriously. That’s an unfair advantage and I’m sticking to my guns on that one. It’s totally not because I have a burning need to kick his ass in a virtual game while yelling, “Take that!” at him or anything…

Even with his unfair advantage I still managed to win my fair share of the matches. I think by the time we called it quits it was 6 to 10.

We cuddled for a while afterward. No jujitsu sparring since his lungs are still infected with the plague. It was nice simply being close to him. It was nice realizing that even after over two weeks of not seeing each other the focus wasn’t sex but rather companionship. We rested together, my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around me. It was warm and connecting. We talked a little bit about my trip, about his holiday, about his mom’s birthday.

Eventually, as he was petting my hair, we lapsed into our shared silence. I actually fell asleep for a little bit, which was fantastic because I had slept horribly the night before, but that meant  I ended up being late getting to dinner with Nicole. I felt rude rushing out the way I did and I sent text messages to Big Bad as soon as I was able to apologizing.

I’m not sure when he and I will be able to see each other again. Hopefully before the 11th since that’s when I leave to visit my dad.

My blacksmith also wants us to spend time together. Along with everyone else who thinks I died in the last two weeks of not being in Orlando.

There’s a handful of people I legitimately want to see, but I think I’m going to have to limit my social time. As an introvert, I can feel the pressure of “too much social” building up. I need some space and downtime, or at least social interaction with the people who recharge me. My blacksmith is definitely on that list.

There’s a pang in my heart because I would like to see Mother  Earth, Josh, and Sir. I don’t think it will happen, though. One I’m not allowed to reach out to. Another told me to never message her again. And the last… I don’t know. I’ve reached out but nothing is ever set. Holidays have a way of making things crazy. Maybe now that it’s over it will change.

I don’t really have a whole lot to write about as far as my days go. The dojo repones today so I have three hours of ass kicking scheduled. I have therapy at 3 pm, which I think will go well. The holiday season turned out surprising well and I’m glad for it.

I have chores I want to do, so I’ll most likely shower and head out to accomplish those.

I painted the walls in my bathroom New Years eve. At 10 pm I posted a picture on Facebook with the message, “Ugh… this paint is going to take all year to dry.”

Sometimes I amuse myself. XD

I’ve figured out my resolution for this year. That means I have to talk to Tre and prepare him for me not accepting the contract offer. I’m pretty sure he’s been pushing his supervisor to highly consider me, so there’s a small amount of guilt for potentially making him look bad by not following through. Not enough to change my mind or make me alter my decision.

If my goal is to be happy then I shouldn’t do things that go against my priority. Not accepting the job might make things harder in the long run, but I’ll figure it out as I go, the same as I have for the past nine months. I’ll make it work, one way or another.

So I guess that’s where I am with that.

I ran again on Sunday. Added a half mile to my distance. Added a minute to my time. That was sort of lame, but I’m trying to look at the positive of it. Half mile. Woo. Go me.

It’s been amazingly warm this past week and I’m grateful for that as well. Winter is always hard for me. I think I’m doing better this year, all things considered, because of the warmth. I’m still able to get up and do things and bask in the sunlight in shorts and a tank top. I’m still able to feel alive rather than like I’m hibernating.

I redyed my hair, too. The roots had grown so long you couldn’t see the purple anymore when my hair was pulled back, which is always. I’m back to normal now, though. At least as normal as one can be with purple hair. I’ll most likely have to redye it on Friday since the roots didn’t take the color as well as I wanted. That’s normal though for right after having it bleached. I guess there’s something about the process that makes it angry. Finicky hair is finicky.

I got my brows waxed while I was there. Small girly self-indulgence.

I’ve gone through my cloths again, picking out the stuff that’s too big since there’s stuff like that now. I’m getting ride of some other stuff as well, like the sandals I replaced. That’s getting donated today, and a few things are going back into storage so they’re out of the apartment.

I’m working on getting my environment set up the way I want it. Completely. Fully. I’m not burnt out on painting anymore so that’s going to get done. I’m not worried about not being here in a month, so I have no reason to hold back on my efforts.

I’m here. In Orlando. And I’m here to stay. At least for now.

And with that I’m off to actually do my to-do list rather than procrastinating all day like I did yesterday.

 

shameless

Musing Moment 100: 2017 Resolution

Standard

This is the first New Years without mom.

I had thought today would be hard, but just like my birthday and Christmas I made it through this day, and I’ll make it through the night, and tomorrow, and the days after.

Sitting here in the relative silence of my room, since it can only be so quiet with fireworks going off, I’m struck by how much I have been changed by the experiences I have had this year.

It started with running my first Warrior Dash on February 6th, an event I am about to do again. That race helped me overcome so much negativity in my past. Hurtful comments. Self-doubt. Things which were like cancer, eating away at me from the inside, irradicated. Gone. A stronger me taking the place of the person I had been only an hour before, emerging from the last giant mud pond with the unshakable truth of knowing I had completed the race. I WAS good enough and I had proven it to the most important person; myself.

Then March 28th dawned. At three in the morning I woke to what seemed like an endless stream of messages on my phone from my family trying to reach me while I slept with my phone on silent.

Mom was in surgery and we didn’t know if she would make it. I spent five hours on the first plane I could get to. Five hours of not knowing if she would be there when I landed. Five hours of begging the Universe with everything I had for her to hold on long enough for me to say goodbye.

This year taught me what it truly means to beg. I feel that is something most people don’t understand, can’t understand until they are in such a situation. Until it’s life versus death and you would give literally everything in your whole existence if only for a few more moments of life.

The two weeks that followed allowed me to understand what true devotion is. I devoted two weeks of my life to the kindest, most caring, most loving person I will ever have the grace to know. There were a lot of excruciatingly hard moments while mom was in the hospital, but there were a lot of really good moments, too, and I cherished every moment of every day because those were moments she was alive. Even if it was a bad moment it was amazing and I clung to it for not knowing if it would end.

And then April 4th, 2016.

Mom died.

It’s a cold, sobering fact in my life. Saying those words, typing them doesn’t cause the anguish it once did. It’s not that the words are easier. It’s more like the grief I feel is something I have grown accustomed to. I understand it better. I cope with it better.

At first, I raged against it. Struggled. Fought. I tried to control it with logic and rationalizations.

But emotions don’t work that way, and the more I tried to force the emotions to be something they weren’t, the more they swelled up until they were overpowering tidal waves that pulled  me down, submerged me, immersed me until the only things in life were the emotions I tried so hard to deny.

For the longest time, I struggled with accepting the terms “grief” and “grieving”. They felt so hollow, so empty. They didn’t encompass everything I felt. They didn’t capture the burning, scorching fire of rage. They didn’t capture the sinking feelings of hopelessness and isolation. They didn’t convey the apathy and flatlined stillness that filled most of my days. They didn’t carry the icy weight of abandonment.

It wasn’t until someone made the offhanded comment that grief transforms a person that I began to understand what I was going through. Grieving is a type of transformation. It’s not a destination or an emotion. It’s a process wrapped up into a single word.

Transformations take effort, and energy, and willpower, and time.

Looking back at all of the events, mentioned and unmentioned, which transpired this year I’m left aware of how this year has shown me who I am.

I am my mother’s daughter. I am one of many people who continue to carry her light. I will shine, and guide, and mentor, and I will be the person my mother raised me to be.

My resolution this year isn’t to form a new habit. It’s not a goal or a number to reach or a career placement to achieve.

My resolution is to be happy.

That was one of my mom’s last wishes for me. For me to be happy.

It took me six months to legitimately feel that emotion again. Long enough that I began to doubt my ability to feel it. I had begun to think I was broken. Damaged. My heart chakra marred for the rest of forever.

I’m not broken, though. I can still feel happiness and I will honor her wish. I will honor it this year and every year following.

I will live my life and I will live it in such a way that I am happy.

image