There’s certain things that I don’t find easy. In fact I find them irritatingly difficult.
They don’t fall under the usual realms of such things, e.g. fear, paranoia or embarrassment but affect my life in odd and hard-to-explain ways.
One example would be my reluctance to attend the Combat session of my Krav Maga class. As this blog entry shows, I have always found genuine aggression unsettling. I’m not a coward, in fact I can stand my ground with the best of them. I will get up and come back if I’m knocked down. I will fight guys much bigger and more qualified than me, just to say I did it.
Problem is…I feel unsettled and uncomfortable after. And I know that this is unresolved shit from decades ago.
Other problem is…I have viewed them for all that time (or at least for as long as I was able to self analyse my own mind) as kinks in the fabric of my life. That they were not “normal” but aspects that were only to be shaken off to enable me to live a life free from niggling doubts and tremors of faith.
Similarly my inability to “chat up a woman” with the specific intention of having sex with her has always been non existent. I have slept with many women, but it’s usually through either drunken encounters or actually being “me” and genuine with whoever I was talking to. This in itself would be a commendable attribute…were it not for the fact that I, up until I sat down to write this…felt that my inability to feel comfortable as Jerry Gigolo was a failing on my part.
Very few people are comfortable with violence. Some love it so much they join the army. Others like a scrap in a controlled environment (such as Krav or Boxing or Judo). Others still get drunk and fight for their favourite football team. Those people aren’t me
There are those who can charm the knickers off a woman on a Saturday night with little to no effort. They don’t get disheartened by a rejection and simply dust themselves off and try again until they do get laid. They also don’t sulk if they go home alone to bed. Their lives do not depend on proving their value to the world by fucking a girl. They are cheerful and go lucky and regard the whole thing as part of life’s rich tapestry. Those people aren’t me.
When I have got drunk, I was never able to handle it the way I BELIEVED alcohol would be as a stimulant. To me I’d feel tired, insecure and crave cigarettes that would make my lungs feel like shit the next day (I don’t smoke sober and only want tobacco when drunk, go figure!) I’ve had hangovers so bad that I’ve stayed in bed, shut inside my own imagination and stink, for 36 hours (yes, I timed it).
Problem was I always believed that my reaction to heavy drinking was due to a flaw, a kink in the fabric that was only in need of ironing out for my life to be perfect.
Jeans look good because theyre' creased and full of kinks. Try to iron those kinks out and the fabric looks unnatural and odd.
I’m currently catching up on the TV show “Hannibal” based on the books and movies about Hannibal Lecter. Mads Mikkelson rivals Anthony Hopkins for his portrayal of Dr Lecter and is disturbingly cold and creepy. Watching this now reminded me of a scene from the book Silence of the Lambs. Lecter is being interviewed by Clarice Starling and asks her if she thinks he is evil. She replies that he is destructive. He contradicts her that he is indeed evil and is simply part of who he is so why should he fight it?
The things that I’ve regarded as abnormal in my life for so long were in fact parts of me that I was fighting against because I didn’t like them and thought a “better” version of me was out there.
I can’t binge drink without becoming a bit of a twat. Heavy drinking with people I trust and/ or love….one thing. Drinking heavily and still being fit for work the next day….quite another.
I can impersonate a badass quite well. I’m not a bad fighter and I have courage when I face people. I’ve won fights in gradings. However I don’t get the rush out of it that guys I know well so blatantly revel in. That aspect of life fits them like a glove. With me…it’s something I struggle to sustain.
I can talk to a woman and get her to like me enough to sleep with me. But not as a challenge from a mate as a “dare” or to prove a point. There has to be some kind of connection there beyond “nice tits” even if it’s that we share a love of the same type of beer or watch the same TV show.
Struggling against type for so long has led to a life that was, at times, a struggle at best and depressing at worst.
I love Krav because it has increased my self confidence and given me skills that may help me survive a mugging, carjacking or attempt on my life. I don’t love it for the “stand up and fight” side of the sport, no matter how much I may WANT to want to. No longer a kink in the fabric it’s something I can accept now.
I like a beer, but I can’t drink like a bastard just to prove how macho I am.
I love to write, but the sequel to my children’s book “The Catastrophe of the Emerald Queen”** is not being written as a race to get it done. It will be written as it comes to me, with love and care for detail. I have nothing to prove by rushing something that I love so very much.
When I was 7 years old we had a Christmas party at my school, like all classes did. No lessons, party food, games and fun. Us and the teacher pushed the tables into a domino set of angles and corners to make one long snake-like banquet hall. I remember me and my “sit next to best friend for the day” Nicholas moved seats a total of 3 times. Reason? Every place we looked at from where we sat looked far more exciting than the one we’d just chosen. We believed every place to sit was better than the one we had just elected to park our bums on.
Ultimately we all have things in our lives that are part of who we are. It’s only when we try to fight against them because the grass looks greener on the neighbour’s lawn or because we think things will be just that much better if we changed, that life becomes a chore.
** The Sunder of the Octagon: Tales of Alegria Book 2.
** The Sunder of the Octagon: Tales of Alegria Book 2.