Ironic Strength

Today was, to say the least, awful.

I mean, the events of the day weren't awful in and of themselves, but add epic PMS and cramps to them, and yeah.  Awful.

I woke up much later than I intended, which set back my chore-doing (I'm literally broke, and I asked my mother if I could do chores around the house today to make a little lunch money) by a few hours.

I cleaned out the fridge, swept away cobwebs, and wiped down blinds all in an effort to make a few bucks so I wouldn't starve.

Not a big deal, but I didn't hear from Sky all day, which given my already fragile state of mind, was not conducive to a happy Karen.  Any other week I wouldn't have thought much of it, and just figured he was busy and I would see him in class.

Karate came, and I watched his eyes soften as he raised his eyes to look at me across the room through the window while he was teaching the younger class.  Again, any other week I would have smiled and waved.  What did I do?  I averted my eyes.  All during warm-ups I felt his eyes on me, daring mine to stare back, but I kept my eyes focused on the floor in front of me.  I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing my deep blue eyes.  Especially on a day where I was feeling so unattractive.

He actually came over and touched me to get me to look up.  I hoped my sleeve wouldn't pull back to reveal the evidence of what I'd done to myself earlier that day.  (Again, not cutting.)  Thankfully it didn't.  I gave him one glance before averting my eyes again.

While doing a drill later in class, I strained a muscle on the back of my thigh.  I had taken a pretty good kick to it a week before, but it was on the mend.  It hurt so bad.  I dealt with the throbbing and the disappointment pretty decently at first, but when I messed up a simple kick three times, and Sky insisted I do one more, I'd had it.  My leg was screaming, my abdomen throbbing, my entire body covered in my own sweat and a few tears from when I hobbled out of class after my strain, and I did something childish.  I stormed away.  I folded my arms, I disrespected Sky as my teacher in front of the whole class, and I told him no.

He should have made me do push-ups.  I don't know why he didn't.  Part of martial arts is controlling every part of you, including your emotions, and I failed.  I'm sitting here on my bed, hours later, feeling completely embarrassed.  He later warned me that I was way out of line, and if I pulled something like that again there would be consequences.

As I stood in my room getting ready for bed, I stretched out my pathetic, sore body.  Looking at my bruises and cuts, extending my arms and legs as far as they could go, feeling joints pop and crack.  Feeling the muscles tense and relax with my slow movements, massaging my leg whose pain has decreased to a dull, gnawing ache.  In spite of all of that, all the pain, the soreness, I felt something new.  Strength.  Being involved in something I once found so confining and restrictive has made me feel powerful.

It's funny how tearing down my stone walls, replacing them with thinner and thinner materials until they're almost gone completely, leaving me vulnerable and open to heartbreak, letting someone see all of me has made me feel strong.  He has taken my weakness from me.  He has refused to let me hide behind it, and I love him so much for that.

I just wish I could tell him that.

Keep it real readers.