I was given an assignment by a life coach last night. She said to think about 5 words that describe me, core values of a sort, words that describe me before the world interfered and changed me.
I have a problem with balance. The balance between strong and sweet, the balance between my heart and my brain, the balance between the masculine side of me and the feminine side. To say who I was before the world changed me, I would have to go back to 4 year old me, before this problem with balance started.
It was at 4 years old my world changed. At four years old I learned to be afraid. Over the next 4 years of my life, I learned to hide tears and cry in my closet at night after everyone went to bed. I learned to be angry. I learned to hide pain from people, developed the attitude of “they will never see how much they hurt me.” I started focusing on being tough. I played football barefoot with the boys in my neighborhood, I cut out splinters, didn’t even wince at bee stings, and walked barefoot on burning hot asphalt just to make myself tougher. I took Judo, for only a few weeks, but I remember little 25kg me flipping the 100kg instructor and listening to him laugh afterwards and tell my mother that I would do well in Judo because I had a mean streak, and I remember hearing her laugh and say that I certainly did.
I punched things. I made holes in ceilings (don’t ask) and walls, punching and kicking them. I would climb trees and hide in the tops of them. Then, the tree climbing turned to pull ups and push ups, for which I set records in school year after year. I learned to believe I was mean, and angry with a terrible temper. I was told I would have a terrible time finding a man to marry me – because no one would put up with me long term.
When I walked into the Muay Thai gym for the first time, I felt like I belonged there. I could say whatever I wanted and no one cared. I could drop f bombs all day long and it was cool with everyone there. The more tough I seemed, the more people liked me. I got rewarded with attention for being tough. For not showing pain. But, now as I think about this… Is this really who I was before the world changed me?
It certainly has become part of me now. Today in boxing, my coach was telling me how a true fighter’s power comes from the heart, not the brain. He talked a while about the energy and speed of the heart…. Which brought me back to thinking about my homework assignment.
In life, I am proud of myself when I think with my brain. As a doctor, we are praised for thinking with our brains. Thinking with my brain is what clothes me, feeds me, puts a roof over my head. When I think with my heart, I am often embarrassed. But, if fighting really is like a metaphor for life…. am I supposed to be thinking more with my heart? Am I really so hard and tough… or did I start out softer and sweet (I usually laugh when someone uses the word sweet to describe me)… but what if I am? What if the world made me hard and tough. What if that wasn’t who I was in the beginning?
What if true happiness in life comes from thinking from your heart and not your brain? What if we all felt ok letting people see us cry? What if you didn’t have to laugh off a liver kick but could say, “Man that was a bitch”?
What if when we were depressed it was okay to be depressed? If no one made us feel less than for our feelings? What if no one told us that we are supposed to shake it off and be happy all the time? What if sitting with sadness wasn’t seen as a bad thing but just a part of life? What if Tim had felt safe asking for help when he was suicidal? What if he hadn’t been ashamed of his sadness?
A few months ago in boxing, I was shadow boxing with a southpaw. She was a foot taller than I was and a leftie.. so she kept touching me…. Me, being the aggressive feisty girl I am, said to her, “If you want to spar go get your mouthpiece and I’ll meet you in the ring, if you don’t then back off, get out of my face and quit touching me.” I wasn’t very nice. My instinct wasn’t to be nice… But a few days later, I made my coach show me how to go up against a southpaw, which he had never shown me before. And, it was the opposite of what I instinctively thought I was supposed to be doing. Turns out, I was getting touched because of my mistakes. Sometimes we have to ask for help, even when it is help with depression and suicidal thoughts.
Sometimes we have to be weak. Sometimes we have to stop pretending that nothing hurts us…. Sometimes we have to do these things just to be okay…. In life, we put up walls and block out vulnerability as we learn from our experiences. What if we are supposed to learn but not change who we are on the inside? What if the only way to be truly happy is to completely allow yourself to be completely you? It’s scary isn’t it? Which brings me back to 4 year old me who learned to be afraid.
I think my homework assignment is going to take a while longer than I thought it would.
