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 ;)

Do the thing. Just do it.

Some days are better than others.  Today was decent.  I had another Krav Maga class - and I'm still excited.  After talking with my instructor, and one of my fellow students, after class I realized that I've been working on that list subconsciously.  You know - that list I posted forever ago, about redefining yourself?

RECAP!!

1.  List new qualities - DONE

2.  Break one bad habit - DONE - Quit smoking - boom!

3.  Reinforce friendships, make new friends - Still working on this one, it should be continuous

4.  Decide what defines you - Still working on this one too

5.  Follow one old passion - broke out my crochet hooks the other day.  It's gonna happen.

6.  List what you love - My person, my friends, my family, my books, art, music, movement.

7.  Be realistic - We'll get into that below

8.  Be positive - this one is tough sometimes, but I'm working on being Positive Fucking Patty

9.  Make a visual - More below

10.  Ignore what others think - got this one down.

So - decide what defines you.  I don't know that it's something that people actively think about, unless and until it changes.  If you had asked me what defined me a couple of years ago, I probably would have given you some inane answer involving reading, learning, etc.  In reality, I have found that while those things HELP to define me, they did not define me.  The things I did every day defined me.  Taking care of mom defined me.  Dealing with nurses defined me.  Clearing catheters, making soft foods, talking and reading to mom defined me.  Working every day, and having that almost second life at the office defined me.  Reading to escape what I did every day - defined me.

Those things no longer define me.  They no longer exist really.  Mom is gone, and although when I'm home I catch myself thinking I need to go check on her - I don't.

Taking these classes help to define me.  I guess more of a shaded outline - if that makes sense.  It's the broad sweeps that *I've* decided will be my outline.  I've made the conscious decision to do something completely new, and a little frightening, but exciting all at the same time.

I dunno - maybe it's easier because these awesome people are new?  They didn't know me from before.  They didn't see the caterpillar - they're just kind of seeing the cocoon.  Whoa, buddy - that's a lot of damn cliches but what the hell.

Ok, moving on to the whole being realistic.  So.  I am a klutz.  I jacked up my ankle.  It's not BAD hurt or anything, and I am aware that you're supposed to rest it, elevate it, etc.  But really, who has time for that??  Well... this girl now has to make time for that.  I was really worried that when I went back to class I would be in trouble, or I don't know, feel dumb because I managed to hurt myself.  Instead, my instructor was again fabulous - and showed me how to work around it and to take care of it.  I'm learning.  I'm stubborn as shit, but I am learning.

I'm sure there was something else I was supposed to mention here, but goddamn man, I am SORE, super hungry, and sleepy.  So eff that.

I love you, Mom.  I'm doing it.  I'm gonna finish it too.

Looking back, looking close, looking up

*waves*  Hey!  Yeah, I know - two months off.  And damn, there was a lot in those two months.  A short version of the past couple months could be:

-Don't assume you know how a person is grieving - even if they're family.  You're probably wrong.
-Kindness from anyone is a good thing, soak it up when it happens
-Don't compare your own grieving process to anyone else's - even if they're family.  You're not doing things the same way, and that's ok.


I mean, there was more - but for the purposes of this blog, that about sums things up.  In the meantime.. my best friend has been telling me about her kids going to karate.  She had nothing but glowing things to say about the family that ran the studio.  I finally had a chance to get out there, and I was present for their belt ceremonies.  It was awesome.  It was *so* awesome, that I - Super Anxiety Girl - went back, for a class.  That class was so awesome that I actually paid to continue taking classes.  So yeah, twice a week I'm basically getting my ass kicked by a room full of super nice strangers while learning Krav Maga.

Couple things here - I haven't gone out much at all since Mom died.  In the beginning that was fairly normal I guess, but then it got pretty bad.  My doctor suggested some anti-depressants, I accepted, and made an appointment with a shrink.  Being that I *am* Super Anxiety Girl, I was freaking myself out over the fact that I was freaking out over the fact that mom died.  Does that make sense?  Anyway, I saw said shrink - who was *amazing* and he was like, yeah - no big deal, we'll probably take you off of these around April.  You just need some help getting over the hump of your bereavement.  That made sense to me.  I take anti-anxiety meds every day, but depression isn't really my issue.  This all happened in January - and lo and behold there was light from above, and roughly two weeks into medication Dani was seen outside her home.  Fanfuckingtastic!  Seriously - baby steps in the right direction.

Anyway - all that drivel to lead up to the fact that while I have been getting OUT more regularly, signing up for regular Krav Maga classes is a little out of my norm... even before Mom's death.  Yet, I really like it.  I'll be coming off of these "new" meds, and I have something to do - regularly - after work that makes strange sense to me.  One of my sisters was surprised that I was going through with it.  I guess that makes sense.  But it makes me feel more in control.  And for me?  That's amazing ;)

Oh, and I quit smoking too.  Right?  I mean, why?  Although, I gotta say, breathing easier is nice when random nice strangers are kicking your ass twice a week.

Love!!

Holes, light, love, and bullshit.

I really have to get over not wanting to write things out because it does help.  I think I put it off because I know someone is going to read it.  But if I were to write it, and hide it, then what's the point?  I've been hiding my emotions for years.  I'm good at it.  Mostly. Gotta break that mold a little bit.

Christmas.  That pretty well sucked.  It was mostly ok because it was my nephew Joey's first Christmas.  We went a little crazy with his gifts - he's not even a year old so it's not like he really "gets" it.  Watching him pass up all the cool toys to play with the wrapping paper and the boxes was pretty fabulous.

New Year's Eve.  It actually was nice.  I did what I wanted.  I spent time with someone special to me, got dressed up, drank too much wine, and laughed a lot.  I called my sister in Japan, even though the time difference is retarded.  I didn't call the others - or Dad - I didn't even think about it.  It wasn't some slight that was done on purpose, I was just having a good time.  Well, I'm pretty sure I didn't call Dad because we aren't really getting along right now.  I don't feel like there's much I can say about that though.  Putting my business out there is one thing - putting my business as it entwines with other people (family or not) is another.  He just needs to find his way I guess.

I knew, intellectually, that the holidays were going to suck.  Totally different than having it all just kind of happen.  I'm a thinker.  I spend a lot of time in my head - analyzing, over-analyzing, tearing apart, figuring out, etc.  I realized another thing that people don't tell you about grief.

It changes everything.  Every family dynamic.  Your perspective.  Everything.

You might think I'm exaggerating, but I promise you, I'm not.  I saw some evidence of it when my Grandpa passed away.  I loved that man so much.  He was basically the glue for Mom's side of the family though.  When he passed away, the aunts kind of drifted apart - the cousins ceased to really know each other, and the relationships that were there from summers together just kind of... withered and faded out.  I remember thinking how crazy it was - and that we should do more to get together, and that Gramps would want us to do that, etc.  Guess what?  Now, now I know.

Mom is our glue.  Her presence, whether it was when she was sick, or not, defined how we treated each other.

"You girls need to take care of each other, you're sisters and sisters are forever."
"Don't talk back to your father!  He works very hard to make sure this family has what it needs."
"Don't judge - unless and until you are willing to walk in that person's shoes.  I know I taught you better."
"You don't turn your back on family.  Ever.  In the end, family is all that you will have."
"Be nice munchkin, even if they aren't - they probably need the niceness just as much as you do."

Mom brought us together for holidays.  She opened the door to the myriad teenagers that I (and my sisters) tramped through the house.  She always had an extra plate ready. "There's always enough.  Just add water."  She decorated for the holidays in crazy gaudy ways and made them fun.  We did presents for each other on Valentine's Day - not just Christmas and birthdays.  Now?  It feels like we're making the motions because we should be, but it's hollow.  It's hollow in all of us because that space that she left can't really be filled.  So finally, I get it.  I get why the aunts drifted away.  I get why each of them, my mother included, chose to focus so fiercely on their own families.  Because they had to fill that hole with *something*.

When you have had a love that is so beautiful, pure, bright, and generous - and suddenly it's gone, what do you do?  When that person leaves, and it literally makes you feel like the world just got darker - the whole way round?  WHAT DO YOU DO?

You try to fill that hole.  You could drink.  You could start doing drugs.  You could sleep around.  You could become bitter.  You could start shoveling every thing you possibly can into that wound - even the mostly good stuff, like loving your kids, or your friends, or you know.. good stuff.  Even that good stuff though, isn't going to be so good if you force it into a spot it doesn't belong to.  Does that make sense?  The shape of that hole is the size of a specific person, what they mean to you, and how much you miss them.  So basically - I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.  I just don't think that anything I try to put there will work.  (Quit freaking out - none of us have suddenly become 'ho's and drug addicts).  I am seeing the results of trying to force fill that hole though.

I guess it's just a matter of letting the edges of that space get a little less raw?  Maybe I can just let that spot be where the light goes.  The light that Mom made sure each of us had.  I just have to figure out a way to nurture it.  I don't think I'm quite there yet - I'll have to ponder that one for a while.

And now I have that damn song stuck in my head.  This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...