Bruises, Becoming, Believing & Profanity

There are probably some folks that are a little tired of hearing about my adventures in Krav Maga.

Guess you're going to have to suck it the fuck up dude, because I'm pretty sure it's not gonna change for a minute.

If you're new here, I would suggest starting from the beginning.  The posts aren't pretty - but they are honest, if a little raw.  Also, I cuss like a sailor - so if you can't deal, you might wanna just stop here.

I guess in a way, it kind of fits perfectly with my whole "redefining myself" adventure.  It's not an "art form", it's... logical.  Well, to me it's logical.  It is action and reaction.  It is movement.  It is testing your own boundaries, it's pushing yourself to be able to react in the best way possible.

I told a friend the other day that I am Becoming.  And that's it really.  AMD - I've struggled with depression, anxiety, and a sense of loss of self I guess - on top of losing mom.  I mean, I talked early on in the blog about how I had to completely redefine myself.  This is part of my redefinition, it is part of my Becoming, and I love it.  The physicality helps me because I'm moving.  Learning new techniques and drills engages my brain.  It's just... good.  Really good.  I finally feel like I might be more than just a caretaker with no one to take care of.

Tuesday, we learned front kick defenses - which seem easy... yeah, not so much.  My arms are still a little sore - but in the best way.  I'm still not good - and I *really* hate not being good at something, but I'm gonna get there.  I like it too much not to.  The super interesting part - and by super interesting I mean holyshitthisishappening - was that our instructor was taking video of various parts of class.  She always puts a little chaos into class, to see if we can use the new techniques under stress.  This one required our team mates to beat us about like a damn pin ball - while being able to defend and deflect the front kick coming from the one attacker circling you.  Mhm.  I look like a damn fool - but I'm gonna share that with you anyway.  Because there is NO shame in my game.

So yeah, I didn't do too shabby.  And it was fun. Mostly haha.  I was so tired by this point it was unreal.  I'm not gonna lie, I totally went last in the hopes that everyone else would be worn out hahaha - that didn't work out quite the way I wanted it too ;)

Today was a "bonus day" - where we worked on clenches, fighting through them, etc.  I'm always worried I'm gonna hurt someone - because I haven't quite gotten the hang of being able to pull my strength back.  I'm working on that though too!!  

And then.  There's... Tabata.  Tabata, I am convinced is Japanese for "Workout so fast that you might die, then try to breathe, then do it again. Muahahahaha"

CONVINCED.  Though I can't lie -it's pretty effective.  I mean when I started class, push ups were a JOKE for me, planks were also a joke.  Now though, I can get through push ups (girly ones on my knees - but dammit I can DO them) and I can hold my plank for... well, longer than I did.  Haha.

All in all, I think it's safe to say that I love it.  Every bruise, every day that my body is stupidly sore, every time I get corrected (and yes, I do want to be corrected - for all my class peeps), every time I leave a hot goddamned mess I'm also ridiculously happy.

Whatcha think, Mom?  I think I'm doing pretty good.  I think you'd like the me I'm becoming.

Oh hey - P.S.  My birthday is May 4th - which is a class day - I will be there!!

My awesome bruises:

Serial Killers, House of Potentially 1000 Corpses - basically - tl;dr

I really should just post these things when they occur in my head.  Trying to back track because there was something awesome in the grey matter at one point is.... really fucking difficult.

First - I had been reading about this serial killer couple that I had never heard of before - Rose and Fred West, in the U.K.  I randomly read an article about a mini-drone being spotted outside a maximum security prison in the U.K.  They mentioned that the "infamous" Rose West was housed there.

Wait.  What?  Infamous?  I thought I had my serial killer info on point!  Nay nay, I did not.  Needless to say, I got sucked in.  All the news articles, bought a book, crazy research ensued.  Well.  Short version - those folks were fucked up.  Bad.  Like - worse than the story of Trudy Chase (not a serial killer, but still ab psych which is the interesting part to me).  Anyway - a lot of people think it's strange that I devour these types of things.  It's not like I get some sick joy out of it - but I think it's important to remember.  We have a tendency to be outraged, and sickened while the investigation and trial are happening in a situation like that - then as soon as that's over, we forget.  Forget the victims, family members, all the other people that were affected even peripherally by the acts that were perpetrated.

By "we" I mean the general public.  The people who worked those things, the cops, social workers, etc, they remember.  But we forget them too.  I mean - come on, isn't that just a little fucked up?  Revel in the gore - but move on when the spotlight dims.

Any who... what else... what else.

Oh yes. Domesticity.  My house is a goddamned madhouse right now.  I have lived at the parents house for the past several years to help take care of Mom.  I'm not in a position to move out yet - sadly.  One sister and my nephew moved in.  Love them.  I do.  Still not good at people-ing.  It doesn't matter if we're related.  Thankfully, she's kinda the same way so we can ignore each other pretty well. Another sister is staying with us for a few weeks.  So lets break this down...

- Three bedroom two bath house
- 4 adults.
- 1 baby
- 5 dogs
- 1 cat

One bedroom for the pops.  One bedroom for me.  One bedroom for sister and nephew.  One sister on couch.  Dogs all over.  Cat wherever cat wants to go.  You know what this is for me?  HELL.  Seriously, my family knows that I love them, but this is my own personal hell.  (Sisters who might read this - don't get pissed, you know you feel the SAME damn way).

So - when one of my best friends contacted me and was like, "Hey, totally last minute but can you house sit?"  I was ALL over that.  Another sister (yeah, I have lots) thought it was hilarious that I was house sitting at my old house (I was said friends roommate for years).  So here I am - with THREE days of NO HUMANS.  Me.  Two cats.  My PS4.  Fallout 4.  Frozen pizza.  Root beer.  I even bailed on class that Thursday.  Ate all their waffles.  BLISS.  Beautiful amazing people-less bliss.

Oh, and fuck you pizza and root beer.  They are not your friends when you hit over 35 - just FYI.

It's Tuesday.  Class was tonight. It kicked my ass.  There were videos taken.  Yes, I will post the humiliation.  After Thursday.  If I'm alive.  I cannot brain any more tonight.

Highly Illogical Chocolate Jesus

This is another wiffle waffle post.  I should do it - I shouldn't do it.  People might get mad - but who cares?!  Etc, etc, etc.  You know how the brain works.  Well, maybe yours doesn't.  But by now you've seen how mine works at least a smidge.

Yeah, I get it.  It's scary up in here sometimes.

Actually, that's part of the waffling - well, that and Easter, and bullshit.  You know.

Maybe this should be two posts?  Eh... fuck it.  My blog, my brain.

In the very recent past one of my sisters and I were discussing the crazy that is in our family.  I mean, there is some legit actual mental illness crazy going on in a few limbs and branches of ye olde family tree - and then there's what we call our Crazy.  It's like... we see it happening.  We KNOW that whatever reaction we are having, or are about to have (or about to say), is *completely* and totally irrational.  WE SEE IT.  Know what happens?  If I'm not real careful Crazy Dani actually lets that irrational bullshit come out of her mouth, or does something really stupid.  I've also discussed this with my Person.  He says all women are crazy.  Well yeah - I mean, that is true to a degree.  I guess what I'm wondering is - for those of you who have ovaries - do you see that shit happening like an out of body experience (like we do), or do you just you know.. like float back to normalcy and hindsight gives you a nasty view?  Or are you crazy free?  (Disclaimer:  you can tell me you're crazy free, but I'll know you're lying.  Ovaries.)

Not that it matters really.  In my soon to be 38 years (birthday comin', I like surprises), I have yet to figure out how to keep it from happening.  I have simply learned how to mitigate the damage.  Like - only talk to people important to you IF you give the clarification that you're a little cray today.  Otherwise, zip sister - because you're going to ruin relationships, eff up dinner, screw up holidays, cause an accident and/or topple governments.

WAIT. A. DAMN. MINUTE.

I'm running for President in the next go 'round.  I expect your full support.  If you aren't hearing some exceptional symphonic metal in your mind right now - then you just don't know what you're missing.

Which kind of leads me to Easter.  Weird transition I know - but try to keep up.

So.

I felt a little cray on Saturday.  Which was weird, because I was "Lookit how cool I am with my spiffy bruises from class, I'm the rockin'est EVAH" all week long.  I ignored it.  I think I managed to maintain decent control on the cray for that day.  I felt so off, I didn't even complain about the drills we had to do on Thursday, which included motherfuckingsprawls I might add.

Then Sunday rolls up, and I'm like - hold up.  It's Easter.  I miss my Mom.  We are celebrating a day when this man supposedly rose from the dead to save us all.  Huh.  And you know what?  I'm still pissed off.  STILL PISSED.  So eff you Zombie Jesus (or Lich Jesus, whichever you prefer).  We ordered pizza.  So eff your ham dinner too.

Also?  Not really interested in hearing the religion lecture from anyone.  I think people forget that religion is what I'm schoolin' for, so I'm not a godsdamned idiot.  I *know* the bible - all the versions.  Keep your wine and crackers to yourself for right now too.  I'm only here for the chocolate.  Which, since it's all on sale today... I will be grabbing.  And having to do extra laps for.

As it turns out the most recent spate of craziness did indeed have a "reason".  So that's good I guess.

 I'm not really sure where I was going with all of that bullshit, but there it is. Like Mom used to say, "Don't worry, you will be assimilated" and when you are, it should all make sense. Some of us are still waiting.

Dean!! Gimme some "Eye of the Tiger"!!! (Life lessons by the Winchesters)

First of all - if you're new here, understand that most of these posts are actually drafted as conversations with myself, in my head, usually while driving.  In between cussing at the other cars.

As has been the topic of the last few posts - this one too, is about class.  Yep.  Still going.  Tonight though, I had my first Moment.  Yeah, you read that right.  Capital M - Moment.  You see, I got cocky, and I figured I could change up my routine.  Normally, I take one of my anxiety meds before class.  Not like an extra one - just a couple hours earlier than bedtime.  Just In Case.

Today?  I was like, nah - I got this.  I like this place.  I like these people.  I don't need no stinkin' pharmaceuticals.

Oh dude. Wrong.  So wrong.  I mean - I do still like the place, and all the people - but the anxiety doesn't give a shit.  About half way through class our instructor was like - ok, heel palm strikes, sprint to the other side of the mat and sprawl.

SPRAWL Y'ALL.  SPRAWL.

If there's a word that NO chubby sweaty anxiety ridden girl EVER wants to hear included in instructions - it's sprawl.  It sounds just as graceful as it is.  But.  I did it.  I hit, and I sprinted, and I sprawled.  I'm chubby, so I'm slower than everyone else.  Which, logically, I know is fine.  It's normal.  It's ok.  Except... Anxiety Brain slooooooows everything down.  I'm so heavy.  Moving one foot after the other is so hard - I'm winded, I'm fat, I'm jiggling, I'm the ONLY ONE STILL GOING because I'mwindedimfatimjiggling.  You get the picture here?  Now, keep in mind, with no anxiety attack - I still would have been slow because this is all new to me - but it would have FELT different, if that makes any sense.

Then something damn near miraculous happened.  My instructor saw me slow.  She said walk, breathe, keep going.  So I did.  And I turned around and still had a few more reps to do and everyone else was done - but instead of what my anxiety ridden brain expected I got, "Dani! You can do it!  C'mon Dani - you got this!"  And?  They meant it.  They all *wanted* me to finish.  It was... really nice.

So I did.  And I finished.  I will get better.

Though... I will probably take my meds early for a few weeks yet ;)