Accepting Fear & Pain
…this week I faced a major fear: physical pain. I’ve been struggling to become more comfortable with the sensation of tension. You know, awkward silences, longer than usual eye contact, sexual tension, or simply just the feeling of judgement. I set out to create tension in an effort to become more comfortable with the experience. I struggled. I simply have no idea how to create tension. The reason why is because I have a fear of physical confrontation. That is, when I got to the core of my hesitation and comfort for creating and feeling tension, it came down to a fear of physical confrontation.
Then it dawn on me…
I’ve never once in my life experienced an actual physical confrontation. I have not even participated in full contact sports of any kind. As one of my buddies said: “you have no idea what your place is among men.” He was right. When I walk into any social situation, like bars, clubs, or even just a super market, I have no sense of what I would do if physically attacked. I have no clue if I can take a punch. I have no idea how much pain I can endure. I have no idea if I would be able to fight back with any effectiveness. Deep down in my gut, I have no certainty that I would be able to protect and defend myself. I can only imagine what some of the most intuitive women sense about me, particularly if I’m already feeling like I have no confidence is self-defending myself.
So, this week I decided to address this issue. I signed up for a Goshin Jitsu class. This is a kind of mix martial art that teaches how to defend oneself from common physical attacks. Unlike martial ARTS for competition and sport, Goshin Jitsu (as I understand it from this class) is about helping one to fend off common worldly attackers while debilitating the attacker enough so you can get away.
I had no idea what I was in store for…
The course was less a class and more an active training practice already in progress. They just kinda throw you in there with a partner and off you go attempting to mimic the holds and moves offered by the lead trainer. Today, it would be learning how to strike, to punch. I’ve never truly punched anyone with any kind of technique (except a wall, which I broke my hand against). I grabbed some boxing gloves my partner grabbed some mitts and we started striking and weaving. I put my hands up in what I thought was a fighting pose. No sooner did I have my hands up than I received a brisk chop to my ribs. “Bring your elbows in!” Fuck! Ouch! I place my elbows in, exposing my face and head…THAWCK! “Get your hands up!” Fuck! Ouch! I’ve never done any sort of boxing and had no clue of proper technique and basic protection stances. I learned fast.
This was the first time in my life that I had experienced any kind of physical contact against me. I liked it. But, this was nothing…
The REAL challenge of this course happened well before we started sparring. Prior to starting, they ran us through one of the most grueling cardio regime I’ve ever experienced. Ever hear of “seals”? I know I have not. Apparently, that’s what they call a god awful push up and drag exercise where you lay on your stomach, use your hands to left your upper body up while also dragging your lower body forward. Did about 12 of those, only after a series of jumping jacks, “crocodiles,” tumbles, and lunges called “chicken squats.” All of this in a rapid succession amidst all sorts of grunting, yelling, and heaving breathing. Then, you stood up, and punch “left” & “right” jabs as fast as you can, drop to the floor do two push ups, stand up jabs for 30 secs, then four push ups, stand up jab for 30 secs, then eight push ups, stand up…you get the idea. At one point I was grunting and yelling simply to help me push through…my mind kept saying “stop”…but I kept going. “Stop”. Kept going. “Stop”. Kept going. I would see visions in my head of past times when I had given up, then I would see women that had left me for more “manly” type guys. STOP. I kept going. I was not going to quit. I would rather pass out before I quit….I would push through to the end.
My heart was pounding. I saw stars. My chest was burning. My arms were on fire. My legs were throbbing, my thighs on fire. My shoulders tense and shaking. My ribs hurting, my head echoing. I was the most exhausted I had ever felt in such a short time.
When it was over, my partner taps my gloves: “Good job!” We took a break for water. I was still standing and walking. I thought: “Holy shit, what the fuck just happened?” The lead trainer then makes a comment about how “you guys are young, I’m 36 year old man.” I’m thinking at that point: “FUCK ME! I’m 35! Should I be doing this!!!???”
HELL YES, I should!
After class, I felt a renewed sense of confidence as I walked through the streets. It was not that I now knew I could “kick anyone ass” (I’m certain I cannot). But, I know something about myself that no one else knows: I can push my self to remarkable lengths than most of the people I know. I can push through my deepest limitations, physically. I can take much more than I even thought I could take. I felt powerful.
I started that class feeling uncertain about what was about to happen. I had a fear of being hit, and, to be honest, who knows? I may still get hit hard enough to feel so serious pain in the up coming weeks. But, one thing is certain: I’m not going to give up. I’ve committed myself to this for a semester. I’m going to push myself through the pain and get a handle on being comfortable with fear…It’s not about removing fear…it’s all about accepting it…