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Fight Club

Ok, so let’s talk about “fight club''. Yes, actually talk about it. I think that we have done ourselves a huge disservice by not talking about “fight club”. We have been told to hold all our stuff inside, to keep the turmoil under wraps, to not need anyone. Don’t talk about the pain and struggle, but yet we are to wear our scars with pride, our bruises with a fierce appreciation for the “fight” we have just had.

But they don’t ever tell you WHO you are fighting and WHY are we fighting them? And what is the first rule of “fight club”? “Don't talk about fight club” why the F$%k is that?

I don’t know about you but I am so tired of silence and the torture I put myself through to not talk about “the fight”.

I am tired of fighting!

Tired of “pushing through," or "looking for the positive," being asked if I'm "ok?"

Who the f**k is really OK?

Like, for real?

I don’t ever seem to be. Because everything is a fight. A fight to get out of bed, a fight to be a better person, a fight to be a good employee or wife or sister. "Fight! fight! fight! fight!" is chanted in my head daily.

And while I have gone from war to fighting to barely living, the struggle has been so damn hard. Like really really REALLY hard.

There always seems to be one more “bad guy”, another “Hair trigger” to watch for and correct, more training, more reading, more watching this Tedtalk and the stupid joy of something… there is ALWAYS something to “work on''.

I am over it, oh boy am I sick of it. My patience is too short, I am way too hard on myself, telling “stories” again are we?


Is it ever over? Is It?

“Nope!" they say, (I hate this word *but* ~ nevermind what I just said, here comes the truth ~ thanks, Mom. I like...) "AND it will get easier, your responses will get better and it won’t always feel like this.”

Ya well I’m still freaking waiting to “feel” better. I want to scream, I want to break things.

I WANT to hide. My favourite thing is hiding. Hiding From myself. Hiding from the very real, very now consequences of trauma I have caused and trauma I have received. I hide from what I know I have to do. I hide from the fight, and yet that just makes the fight even harder.

When the rubber meets the road, I found out it is a lot different in theory than in practice. Which, I might add is why they call it “practice” in the first place.

Practice: (v)
perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to improve or maintain one's proficiency.

So what must I do?

Practice, practice, practice. Breathing techniques, those phrases of affirmation, that 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 pause, and then speak, and grace, and putting down the shitty boxing gloves, putting down the finger tape and spitting out that mouth guard. OH... and stop being silent about “the Fight”

I firmly believe that my path is and always will be a bit whacked, a bit like a mountain

goat on the side of the cliff. Looks crazy to others and yet I seem to cling to that cliff deftly, albeit precariously. Something about being on the edge is thrilling and keeps me awake.

Then I really “wake up” and realize I am literally on the edge and didn’t leave myself anything to fall back on. This is not a ledge I “chose” and yet, that is how it has always been, one ledge after another. Adrenaline, get to safety, learn something new, jump to a new ledge, “wake up” and repeat. Leaving me against the world. ME against me. This is tiring.

Can I stop jumping now?

Is this what my path is always going to be like?

Am I allowed to walk beside the stream instead?

Why do I need permission?

Who told me I had to stay on this ledge?

Why am I fighting so damn hard?

Why do I think that it is the only way?

I don’t believe that about anything else, so why can’t I just grasp that I can choose the path I want and the level of difficulty? I have realized that there are no outside voices stopping me, there is NO one telling me I can’t do something. In fact it’s quite the opposite, I have an amazing support system and even more amazing people I am privileged to call my friends.

So where in the flying wheel of life and time are these naysayers coming from???

Have you guessed yet where I am going with this??

Ok. I'll just tell you.

They come from ME. Inside my damn head. All of them, the “theys, those people, critics, the Ass-Hat committee,” every last doubter, every past failure, every nasty thing I’ve heard spoken to me or spoken to myself.


So what am I really tired of?

I am tired of listening to my doubt, I am tired of fighting myself to get out of the way of

my own healing, I am tired of taking things the wrong way. I am tired of feeling 'Woe is me.' I am tired of “Fight Club”

I will tell you what I am NOT tired of:

I am not tired of growing, I am not exhausted by the new feelings I am learning, the new tools with which I have implemented and experienced the fruit of broken habits

I am not tired of people reacting differently to me, I am not tired of not carrying around so much heavy pain, I am not tired of the better relationships I have as a result of my growth.

As I conclude this you might be thinking...

This is where I tell you how I am going to do all this.

Hah! Not.

Haha! Sorry not sorry, this is just my journey and I am still figuring it out as I go.

I will tell you that I am going to choose grace for me first. Damn well gonna start trying anyways, and let the trickle-down effect start to happen. I will put the gloves down and silence the crowd in my head that is screaming for the next blood match. I will stop hurting myself and stop collecting bruises and scars.

As I reflect on my journey thus far, I am pleased and proud of myself for what I have overcome. One mindful step has already taken me off the cliff and onto a path. It may still be a tad precarious however I have my feet solidly on the ground and I am making my way down to the stream I can see and hear below.

I guess what it all boils down to is, Tell the ME inside that's all about fighting to sit down and to shut up, get out of the ring, and follow the practices I have learned, keep practicing and above all be patient with myself.

One last thing. F$%k “Fight Club” I won’t be silent anymore.


Until next time,

Iphelia Mann

Side Note: I have never had a therapist say, “Nope,” in response to a query about my discomfort ever subsiding.

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