Godmama Says…
a buncha stuff.

fighting back

This country is getting itself all riled up over politics like the audience at the Jerry Springer show. Drooling and hissing and viciously hating  like a crowd watching gladiator sport.

Meaningless chatter about politics lately just makes me sad, and there is so unbelievably much of it.
Makes me just want to run back to the dojo and kick shit til I’m ready to pass out and dream about kicking more shit.

Then I get this random 80’s song stuck in my head:
“World, shut your mouth, Shut your mouth/
Get your head back in the clouds and shut your mouth.”

—-
Ahh, the dojo.
There are 3 main things that have kept me going beyond the atomic blast that happened mid-December.
First and most obviously:  The endless support and unconditional love of my Superman of a husband who is constantly on standby ready to catch me when I need to fall apart.
Second:  This weird little kitty named Sheena who gladly plays the role of surrogate baby and absorbs all my excess mommy energy.
And now third:  Sweaty, intense Mixed Martial Arts classes 4 or 5 times a week or as many as my schedule allows.  I would truly go twice a day every day if I could.

It’s my new obsession, my love, and most importantly my anti-depressant.
I love it so much it freaks me out a little bit.
People have completely forgotten the fact that I am still grieving- hard and constantly- and it’s still an effort to relate to the world and care about the things other people want me to put my limited energy into.

When your heart is still lost in space over a big thing, everything else is like noise in another language that you resent having to deal with.   It’s hard to give even the smallest shit what they said on Fox News today when you are literally trying to figure out the meaning of life and death and time and space.
It’s as if the rest of the world is the apartment upstairs where the noisy neighbors are having a rowdy party complete with unnecessary fights and obnoxiously bad music while I’m trying to rest and get my head together.  They keep inviting me up to that party… and I keep smiling politely and wondering why they can’t all just settle down and go the fuck to sleep.
It’s exhausting feeling that way about the whole rest of the world.

The dojo is where I can snap out of that funk.   It’s where I’m safe.  It’s my power source.  It’s where I am grounded, inspired, excited, and alive.
It’s where the only thing that matters is how high I can kick (not very, yet), or how many push-ups I can do in a minute (not many, yet).   It’s where I know my own strength, and I see can it growing.  It is grueling,  empowering, and it is exactly where I need to be.

I think it’s where Orion wants me.  I think this is kinda his thing that I’m doing for him or that he’s doing through me.  Well, sometimes I let myself think that,  when I need to believe he’s still around. So I have promised him (and myself) that I will have the Black Belt one day.  And that will be …you guessed it… Orion’s Belt.

Early in this process people kept telling me I needed therapy.  I thought about it, but it never felt like what I needed.  I didn’t want to lay on a couch and talk about what happened.  I knew what happened already.  I didn’t need to rehash it with a stranger, I needed to fight.   I wanted to fight everyone and everything.  I wanted to fight God or The Universe or whoever “let this happen” to me.  I wanted to fight all the people who said the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Any time someone told me “You can always try again!” or “Just adopt!” I was actively imagining beating their ass into the ground behind my watery eyed fake smile.  I wanted to fight myself for failing to keep my son safe. I even wanted to fight him for leaving me and ripping this massive black hole in my spirit.  I just wanted to fight and fight and fight.   That need to fight is what kept me going.  It was the only “energy” I had.
So now, that’s what I’m learning to do.   Learning to fight is my therapy.
But I’m not fighting any of those things anymore.  I’m fighting the depression.  I’m fighting the weakness.  I’m fighting the pathetic sense of defeat and powerlessness.   I’m fighting the grief.  And slowly, gradually…I’m learning to kick its ass.

All thanks to this amazing place called the dojo- Elite Martial Arts of South Austin, to be exact.
Thanks, Elite , for teaching me how to dominate, conquer, and survive.
You’ve got my heart.

My Favorite Place

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3 Responses to “fighting back”

  1. You are amazing.

  2. You are. I’m so glad you have this.

  3. Thinking about you. Always.


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