My serious relationship ended poorly and abruptly, my father's condition continued to deteriorate, my work was unsatisfying and underpaying, and I wasn't writing. Time passed alternately in a somewhat zombified state, filled with rage, or broken down in tears. I wasn't suicidal, but I certainly wasn't enjoying being alive either. Days blended together into months, with little joy found in anything.
At the urging of concerned friends and family, I entered therapy. I found a guy who took my insurance and happend to bear a striking physical and vocal resemblance to Tim Gunn from Project Runway.
1. Dating
2. Finding a therapist
3. Basketball
TG therapist was a nice man, but we didn't mesh at all. I sat on his couch, sobbing and trying to explain why I felt that everything important to me was gone or broken. Whenever I thought "this surely must be rock bottom, things cannot possibly get worse" they always did. He stared back at me silently, his eyes without feeling, his lips set into a straight line. "Make it work" his demanor seemed to say. I was so frustrated with this man looking at me silently while I lost my shit time and time again that I finally exploded "Why the fuck am I wasting my time here?!"
So I broke up with that therapist.
He didn't seem to give a damn.
Being a private person who needs help sucks. Because reaching out, admitting there is a problem I can't solve, is quite a low. I'm sure it's some special blend of ego, pride, the way I was raised, and general anxiety.
Leaving TG therapist's office for the last time, I was walking down the street, tear-stained and dejected as usual, when I saw a sign (literally and figuratively!)
Free Trial MMA Class.
Gloves Included.
And in a rare moment of clarity, I thought "Meh, why not?"
That's how I moved away from therapy and became a part-time ninja. The nice people at the school (oh yes, it's ninja school) gave me some gloves, a t-shirt, and white pants (which I hate, because I can never keep them clean, and lady ninjas get their period, which just adds to the anxiety!) and I was off. From the first class, I was pleased to discover that I'm much stronger and in better shape than I ever realized. I could go 10 rounds of intense cardiovascular exercise and still breathe! I was sweating, pumped up....and feeling so much better.
In class, we spar with a bag. And during the following months, that bag became a symbol of everything that upset me, and I wailed on it. It was my ex-boyfriend. The guy who bought out my company. It was anybody I was grumpy with.
And it was me.
And it was me.
"Grow up!"
"Get over yourself!"
"Stop eating cookies!"
The teacher I train with, Sensei Hall, has in more ways than I can thank him for, saved my life. (He has no idea). In his class he pushes us to give our all, to take time to focus on ourselves, and clear our heads of the clutter that weighs us down. He is funny, dedicated, smart, and a total badass who can throw punches that kind of freak me out with their beauty. They are clean, sharp, powerful blows, full of grace and technique. Don't believe me? Check it out.
(Sensei is the guy in the orange pants, the one kicking some serious ass)
And after class?
We talk. And relax. Sensei talks us through stretching, encouraging us to open up both mind and body. We focus, we work, we laugh. This is the best kind of release I have found yet. After class I am tired, but kind of thrilled that I've lived to fight another day. I am happy. I am strong. The next day I still feel good, this is a slow-release type of medicine.
I don't always want to go to class (seriously, those white pants are a royal pain) but I know I'll be happy that I did. Kickboxing doesn't get rid of your troubles, but it gives you a new way of approaching them, and tapping into a strength within yourself. And you get mad ninja cred.
We talk. And relax. Sensei talks us through stretching, encouraging us to open up both mind and body. We focus, we work, we laugh. This is the best kind of release I have found yet. After class I am tired, but kind of thrilled that I've lived to fight another day. I am happy. I am strong. The next day I still feel good, this is a slow-release type of medicine.
I don't always want to go to class (seriously, those white pants are a royal pain) but I know I'll be happy that I did. Kickboxing doesn't get rid of your troubles, but it gives you a new way of approaching them, and tapping into a strength within yourself. And you get mad ninja cred.
