Burning off the Insanity, Taking Freedom, and Becoming

I did the thing.  Yep.  Did it.  I went to Krav on Tuesday, and I completed my belt test.  I didn't fail - and I didn't give up.  I mean, I will only be a lowly level one yellow - but you know what?  That's a BIG deal on this side of things.

I've always been a big girl.  Well - at least since puberty anyway.  That combined with extreme social anxiety, my issues with spaces, and all the rest of my crazy little quirks is kind of a recipe for disaster.  When Mom was sick, I didn't have to push myself too much because I *needed* to be at home.  It wasn't an excuse, or a justification, it just was the way it was.

Now, by that same token - I've also always had pretty good self-esteem.  This may seem backwards, but what the hell else is new with my brain?  I think I'm pretty.  I think I'm awesome. I think I'm pretty damned awesome.  I'm pretty damned awesome, and I like to be tucked into my hidey hole where I can be pretty, awesome, and pretty damned awesome, all on my own.  So the kicker was pushing out.  Which I've mentioned so many times in the past here that I'm sure it's sickening to hear again - but get over it asshats.  This is for me, not you.

So AMD (After Mom Died for those of you who may have forgotten), I'm coming to terms with the fact that I can leave.  I don't have to have a specific schedule.  I can go out of town if I want (doing that this weekend actually!).  I can *gasp* BE LATE - because I don't have to leave at a specific time.  (If you have been a victim of my recent lateness, I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not - I'm testing out my own little freedoms so piss off).

Since I *can* leave, and us crazy folks like to do things in baby steps - I need reasons to leave so that I just don't drive around aimlessly and end up places like Lagrange - for NO reason.  Yeah.  That's happened before.  Enter Krav Maga.  My reason for being out on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  My "push yourself outside the comfort zone" experiment.  Which has rapidly turned into a way to keep me sane(er) (ish?).  Yeah - I still take meds, but when I go to class there's not a whole lot of time DURING class for me to be anxious or worried about anything.  I'm too busy trying to hit, kick, grapple - OR - not GET hit, kicked, etc.  It's like this beautiful off switch.  So I don't think I'll be giving it up any time soon.

HOWEVER.

This does not mean that I don't freak the fuck out BEFORE class.  Holy jeebus on a godsdamned crutch.  I was so nervous Tuesday that I double drugged myself.  I almost didn't go.  I almost convinced myself I didn't NEED that.  I was wrong. I do need it.  For myself.  I was really proud of myself, and I still am.  One of my sisters was surprised when I told her that I wasn't going to have anyone come to the belt ceremony.  Not because I'm anxious, or embarrassed - but because for right now - and for the next little bit - THIS IS MINE.  I'm not sharing it - except in words, right here.  I don't need to show anyone how hard I have worked, and will continue to work - except me.

Thanks to all my class mates too - and of course my Instructor.  I know it's gotta be frustrating sometimes to have the slowest person on your team for drills - but you never EVER make me feel that way, and for that I am grateful.  I could not get comfortable, and push myself to improve, without that. Between that, and my own mental gymnastics, I am ever so slowly Becoming.  /sap

Yeah, that's enough of that bullshit.  <3

Inspiration vs Faux Inspiration & Twinning vs. Winning

I have added quite a few of my Krav class mates to my FB page - because I like them.  They are funny, they are good people, they kick my butt twice a week and watch me sometimes flop like a fish.. but still root for me.  They seem to not give a shit that I cuss like a sailor (or they're politely ignoring it - either way, go you!).

Right.  So.  We have SuperBeast (that's a compliment by the way, and yes, it's a she - and I don't care who you are, she can take you) and Mr. SuperBeast, then we have Minnie (Minnie the Moocher song always plays in my head for this lady) and her daughter Hedy (yeah, as in Lamar, because she's pretty and she's good at science IT'S THE WAY MY BRAIN WORKS!), Sgt. McGoof and his progeny - There are three, so they will be Larry, Curly and Baby Moe, Twin (we share the same name - though he is male), The Professor, Mama Bear, Mini-Instructor and Sailor Moon.  There are a couple others, but these are the peeps I've been in class with the most recently.

I knew when I started this thing there would be testing.  I mean, my brain received that information blinked at it, and then filed it under "Ignoreuntilnecessaryinordertopreventimplosion".  I love my brain.

Well.  It's coming.  And I've been doing awesome - Tabata sets at work, walking, etc.  I already drink water all day. I'm a little nervous, a little scared - mostly ignoring it.  Until I have a moment of "OMGWTFHAVEIDONETOMYSELF?!?!" To which there is generally no reply (yes, I talk to myself - shut it!) or, if I'm freaking out all over someone (either the BFF or my Person) then I get encouraging responses.  BFF: "You'll be fine."  My Person: "I believe in you. Harness your inner Wonder Woman, go forth and conquer."

Alrighty.  As we can see from Exhibits A and B - *I* am apparently awesome.  So I have nothing to worry about.  Right?  Right?!?!?!

 Then today, I get a lovely message from Twin.  It really was lovely - very encouraging and uplifting, with some advice about how to approach the next two weeks.  You're probably used to reading most of my blog in Snark Voice.  Really - no snark here.  It was awesome.  Thank you.  Words like "cardio, watch what you're eating, beast mode, one day, come back for second test so we can beat you up".

Okie doke. Hours later: (This is how my brain works)  As we can see from Exhibit C - *I* am apparently not nearly as awesome as I thought I was and I'm going to die while doing my own test, and then I'm going to die again while the advanced people do their test, and I can only eat lettuce (never fucking kale!) for the rest of my life because Twin said that I had to do all of these things because everything happens in beast mode and if I don't do it then I'm going to fail and nobody likes a goddamned loser Dani.  *gaspgaspgaspflailgaspflail*

Am finally calm.  Ish.  Calmish.  I think there will be hiking this weekend at Red Top.  To keep my brain from gaspflailing anymore.  Twin? I hate you.  But just a smidge.  I mean - it *is* pretty funny.

*** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_types_of_killing  *** Just for future reference.

P.S.

I promise to not eat pizza before the test.

******************EDIT*****************

For some reason Twin thought I was discouraged.  This is not the case.  This is just my normal every day brain cycle - and it's conclusion makes me (and hopefully some other folks) laugh.  So no, Twin was not being mean to me.  ;)

Fuck yeah, Tank Girl! Also - Do or Do Not, There Is No Try.

Faked you out, right???  Multiple posts in one day - holy shit batman, what is she doing?!

Back to our regularly scheduled topic of transformation, redefining, change, etc. I just really needed to get my thoughts out and down about this whole death penalty thing. (See previous post if you give two shits - if not, keep reading).

A friend of mine posted an article the other day titled "Transformation: If You're Enjoying it You're Doing it Wrong"

That hit pretty hard.  Ok, really fucking hard.

http://www.rebellesociety.com/2017/06/01/clivetreadwell-transformation/

"Transformation isn't something you choose, it chooses you.  Transformation happens alone."

The alone part really got to me.  Not because I don't have awesome people - but because I do.  Hrm.  It's hard to explain.  I'm going through this bullshit right - everything I used to do, be, etc IS NO LONGER.  I know I've said it before, but that is a huge fucking deal.  Some of the relationships that I have, I began while I was taking care of Mom, and helping with the family. That whole dynamic is different because... mom is dead, and I don't have to do much for the family.

I feel awkward and out of place.  It doesn't mean I love those people any less - or am any less grateful for them - or that I'm getting rid of them.  (You assholes are stuck with me for life) It does mean that I feel like I have to re-find my place in those relationships... does that make sense?

And yeah, that does lead into class.  I am a person who sometimes needs a physical manifestation of a thing to "get it".  Part of that transformation is physical.  It's not even about literally transforming my body - but more of using my body to transform my head.  Like.. the more I hurt, the clearer my head becomes.  And not in the super crazy cut me way.  That's what tattoos are for.

Every time I go in there, I push myself a little harder than the time before.  I'm making myself move more at work.  And outside - though it's seriously about to be too fucking hot for that shit.  I despise sweating.

It's comfortable being surrounded by other people that are also transforming.  Doesn't matter what their reasons are - transforming sucks - it hurts, and it's supposed to.  If you want to make it out to the other side, you gotta suck it up and take one more step when your brain is telling you to stop.

Holy shite, that sounded suspiciously like a faux inspirational facebook meme.  LAME.

It's still good.  It's still kicking my ass - but I still love it.  I am learning about myself.  I went to class on Tuesday and took NO medication beforehand.  We did some of the hardest drills I've done while going there - AND I FINISHED.  I didn't finish lame either.  I fucking finished awesome.  I'm sore, and my knuckles are swollen - but it doesn't matter because it feels good.  I'm listening to other people share their stories - in the small ways that people do, and I'm realizing that I am JUST as bold and awesome as they are.

Does that make sense?  I go in there twice a week, and I'm always absolutely amazed by each one of these people.  Even the kids!  I'm in awe of what they are capable of - and watching them work, and having them help to teach me.  It was only recently that I realized - I'm not too bad myself.  I hate not being good at something.  But you know what?  I'm absolutely giving it my best - and FINISHING - and that. is. goddamn. awesome.  I might never be great at it - but I'm going to DO, just like Master Yoda said to.

True Crime and Death Row

There are so many things I want to talk about!!  That’s the real struggle with this blogging bullshit.  Like… are there rules?  Can I only make a post about one thing? (Well fuck, I screwed that one up already)  Are the posts supposed to be short – or long – or in between.  If I skip around on subjects, do I need to set this bastard up like an APA outline???

Seriously. That is my brain.  I got so stressed out about how to talk about all the things I wanted to talk about that… I just didn’t.  *facepalm*

I’m currently over that.  Although…. Breaking things up with headlines sounds fun, so let’s do that for a minute!

********MORBIDLY CURIOUS WOMAN RAISES EYEBROWS READING ABOUT DEATH ROW*********

Yeah, so, I read a book.  Watch Me Die by Dr. Bill Kimberlin.  If you are into true crime, learning about the justice system, interesting ethical conundrums, or just a curious weirdo like I am – I HIGHLY recommend it.  So this professor (the author) decides that he can’t really teach about Death Row until he knows about Death Row.  Commendable.  I’ve had a few professors who have obviously only ever known a thing in theory.  So the good Doc moseys through all these channels, and discovers he has to be invited.  Lo and behold – the inmates want to talk.  He starts getting invited to witness executions, and he can interview the inmates for his book.  All with their permission of course.  I have always been OK with the death penalty – it takes a long time, the appeals process is in place to make sure that if a mistake has been made it can be rectified, etc.  Not so much anymore.  Well.  Kinda.  How many of you know how we handle government funded murder?  Harsh words, right?  But – accurate, by our own definitions.  Most folks would be like – lethal injection, it’s painless.  Yeah, I was that naïve before the book as well.  NOPE.  It’s more like this:

State Employee 1: Well, looks like we have some bad motherfuckers we gotta kill.  Need to get some drugs together for that injection.

State Employee 2: Yep – better get a book or something, since we can’t have a doctor or nurse in there.  Think we should tell people we don’t know if it’s painless or not?

Employee 1:  Nah, they don’t really need to know that one of the drugs is a paralytic.

Employee 2: True, true.  It would be terrible if we upset people with the death throes of an inmate.

** I really wanted to cuss more in that.  I held back.  

Lethal injection = chemical cocktail that they HOPE works because drug companies are refusing to sell to us because we use them to kill.  

There’s a state that still has the gas chamber.  Seems innocuous yeah?  Hell the fuck no.  Arizona, Missouri, and Wyoming.  Gas chamber = death by Hypoxia.  A bucket is put under the chair that the inmate is sitting on.  Sulfuric acid and sodium cyanide crystals are mixed.  Skin turns purple, eyes bulge out – and can take about 20 minutes to die.  No cruel and inhuman punishment, right?  But – they didn’t say it couldn’t hurt.  

Then there’s hanging – yep, still got one of those going on.  And hello – that takes some fucking math skills.  Weight, height of the drop, etc – to insure that the neck snaps for instantaneous death.  How many prisons do you think have someone with the math skills to accurately figure that out?  Yeah, pretty much zero.  

Oh oh oh… then there’s the firing squad.  The most humane.  

Electric chair?  Jesus Christ on a crutch.  Remember the Green Mile?  That was accurate.  “The inmate that is to be put to death by electrocution must first have his head and leg shaved.  Once they are strapped into the electric chair, a metal skullcap shaped electrode is attached to the scalp on top of a sponge that has been soaked in a saline solution…The inmates face is covered due to the simple fact that once the electricity is passed through a body it is not uncommon for the eyeballs to pop out of the skull.  The inmate often urinates, defecates, and vomits blood once the nearly 2000 volts surge through their body for 30 second intervals which is repeated until they are pronounced dead.  Since the body is hot enough to blister someone who touches it, the body must cool for a period of time before being removed from the chair.”

Good ol’ Nietzsche reminded us about this type of thing…. “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.  And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

Some people need killin’.  It’s true.  William Sapp?  He’s on death row.  He needs to die.  He’s evil.  Is it necessary however, for us to become like him to get it done?  I don’t think so.