Feeling Sanguine?

Bloody hell.
Yes, blood.
Let’s start at the feet.
I think I may have broken a toe, it looks bad. I’m trying to ignore it.
I keep hitting my right ankle on people’s elbows, so my right ankle is double its normal size. I’m trying to ignore it.
My left hip keeps clicking; I’ve been ignoring that for weeks.
I FINALLY got my period, which would explain my emotional state. Fucking shit.
Bloody nose in sparring last night, both nostrils, not very fluid, I think I’m dehydrated.
My first black eye from Muay Thai, not a very good one, looks more like poorly applied eyeliner.
I think my nose is definitely getting permanently fucked.

I trained with an insane woman last night, luckily in regular class, not sparring, so at least she couldn’t do any real damage. I really believe she is mentally unstable; it’s not the first time I’ve been stuck with her. She has very erratic movements, she has weird shifty eyes, she huffs and puffs all the time like she’s really upset, she gets visibly frustrated and tries, purposefully, to hurt me, which is dumb. She really should try another sport; she gets way too flustered with the boxing bit -the whole part about getting hit, which, strangely, is going to happen a lot in a …BOXING CLASS. I intentionally went very light with her because she is too out of control to handle regular impact; but going light also made her mad. It felt like being in a bad relationship: There she is getting upset, and I can tell, and I think I know why, but she won’t say anything, so I try and adapt to fit her, but that doesn’t work either, so I say, “Is something wrong?” and she says, “NO!!”. Christ, get me away!

It made me wonder, who the fuck am I training with everyday? You know? I mean, think about it, you’re facing a total stranger, trusting that they know what they’re doing, let alone trusting that they’re sane. I mean, let’s ignore the creepy weirdo woman for a minute, cuz I could spend yonks imagining what her problem is. But I know what MY problem is, I’m mostly sane, but even that’s tenuous. I’m obsessive, a grandstander, egotistical, aggressive, sensitive, and a crybaby for starters. Everyone’s got their axe to grind, and those of us who choose to grind it on someone else's head with our fists and shins, knees and elbows, well. Jeez.

My toe looks like a cocktail wiener with fluorescent pink nail polish.

Anyway, I’m nervous about the fight.

Temet Nosce.
Know thyself. There are other versions of the same phrase, but I like the Matrix so I use that one.
I have to know and come to terms with my shortcomings and weaknesses, as well as my strengths, in order to be a good fighter, let alone a good person –and I DO want to be both of those things.

So, Imma gonna tell ya what I’ve learned.

I’m a show off. When I know there’s an audience when I’m sparring, I get showy, hit harder, get pushy and aggressive. This is NO FUCKING GOOD.

I am emotional. If some human upsets me in my life, I carry it into the ring; it makes me weak (my period exacerbates this). As someone who tries, intentionally, to be impulsive and expressive with my emotions, I can sometimes feel like crying in the ring. THIS IS NO FUCKING GOOD.

I am a counter fighter. That means I don’t initiate so much, or play tricks, or defend, I REACT. For instance, the bell rings, I put a little gentle jab out, a little warning sign round house, but when they hit me, I come crashing back 10 times worse. I do this in real life. This is not necessarily bad, but something to think about. I think it works better in the ring than in the world.

Somebody needs to invent an ice pack that fits right on the nose.

My dad’s coming for an impromptu visit, he’s going to kill me when he sees how beat up I am. Heheh.

Pics to follow, when I get into the office.

SealedWithALovingKiss

-Mils