Rolling With The Punches

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Last year, I had an inspirational post to start off the year. Lots of goals. Feel-good plans.

This year, I’m simply rolling with the punches.

Literally.

I’ve got to say, my parents created some dang hard-headed kids. Not only metaphorically. I’ve taken so many knocks to the noggin it’s a little disconcerting–looking a little punch-drunk in this corner.

The year began with me suffering the worst influenza I’ve had in a decade. Laid me out flat. Simultaneously, the car began choking to death, so I took it to the shop. Called off of work (which I hate doing) and had to walk back and forth to the garage (four times) during which time I was basically delirious with fever.

Then my new swords (which I’d been waiting for for six months) were finally shipped…to the wrong address. To an address where I hadn’t lived for seven years. So my sick ass goes over to a construction zone (in the cold winter rain) to hop a seven-foot brick fence–which I can barely get my ass over.

The adventure reminded me, firstly, that I was technically trespassing, and secondly, my workout regimen was lacking. I’d gone to the gym more in 2018 than I had since 2013–and yet I was weaker than I expected. After four fence-hoppings, I got the swords but suffered a huge blow to the ego.

And my ego is very important to me.

That was the first week of January.

Since then:

  • More trips to the mechanic.
  • A sparring match where I learned I can take more bruises than I can dish out
  • A diet that seems to be working but suddenly I started smoking again, so that’s an utter wash
  • Absolute writer’s block, which started after Thanksgiving and persists even now
  • Agonizing over trying to balance my dreams with my partner’s dreams
  • I’m nearly hit by a van pulling a U-turn on a dark street at night (I yanked the dog back and the vehicle came within a foot of hitting my hip) and suddenly I’m thinking of sudden death
  • Two trips to the vet and recurring thoughts of fatality and helplessness
  • Sleepless nights. Lots of them
  • The silver bullet (my car) finally breathed her last–may she rest in peace
  • Got a different car. Went into debt (only a bit) but, fuck, didn’t I just get out of debt? Jumping back into those shark-infested waters

Even so, I’m trying to stay steady, remain stoic, and not be swayed by things that are emotionally transient.

Tonight, I was jogging Luna when the ninety-five-pound beast suddenly swerved and slowed, and the leash tripped me up.

I went down (tucked and rolled) but still managed to bang the back of my skull on the curb. Luckily, I avoided oncoming traffic. I popped up, thought “well, that’s embarrassing” and continued to jog the dog.

Meanwhile, the lump on my skull is getting bigger, and I’m thinking about life.

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Life’s a testy bitch. She’s a quick-tempered, hair-trigger, haymaker-swinging, tantrum-throwing wench. But she’s still pretty good, once you get past that.

For example:

  • My new swords are awesome
  • My sparring has vastly improved
  • The cats and the dog are healthy despite those medical surprises
  •  I like the new car, and debt is temporary
  • My family is coming to visit, and I’m so proud of my awesome brothers and my amazing mother
  • I bought my ticket to Prague and Sol’s Wing Chun/Wrestling school is doing well
  • And I actually DID get my ass over that wall and I DON’T seem to have a concussion
  • Plus, sleeping pills exist.

I’ll get over the writer’s block, once I get past the fear.

Fear of writing it wrong.

Of losing.

Of those goddamn sucker-punches.

Anyway, life’s good. The trick is to not let one thing (like a bad mood or a skinned knee) rule the rest of your life.

 

 

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