A fear of the fist

Confusion. Exhaustion. Sleepless nights. Bizarre dreams. Life changes. Restlessness. Vacancy. It seems to be all around right now. We tend to go through things together and in cycles. It's strange to speak of your mental and emotional state only to find that others are in the exact same space. Comforting and discomforting. Nice to have others to share and understand, but a distant yet knowing eye would be an incredible gift. Unsure of what to do and where we are going we just waste time or occupy ourselves with being busy. Merriam-Webster says that words related to "busy" are: absorbed, tireless, alive, vigorous. I beg to differ.

A year into the program and we all begin talking about how we are starting to understand, but only starting. It's making more sense what to do and not do, but still not completely clear how. We're a sad bunch - finally understanding but with little energy to do much about it. Like a boxer who, too many punches to the head later, finally understands how to move. Impaired vision and a fear of the fist means we are not much good in the ring any longer. We stay both fearing this will be the hit that ends it all, and fearing that it won't be. We train and focus but our bodies and minds are weak and malnourished, doing little more than trapping us inside. Like all boxers we need skill and heart, but our spirit is elsewhere. Fighters need breaks - preferably long ones to let the body recover. To regain strength. To find a center. Our breaks are short and few, and even then not mental ones. When there's noise, you try to block it out and when there's silence the mind produces noise. We live inside the ropes and find ourselves leaning on them with increasing frequency and need. I believe the term is "washed up."

Like fighters though we insist on hanging on until the bitter end of our careers. Personal limits and professional realities are hard to bear. People find outlets, usually ones that reaffirm where you are already headed. Destructive and short-minded behavior seem to be something of the norm. Instant gratification - get it while you can. Get out of your head and go anywhere that will take you - anywhere that doesn't see a crumbling fighter.

The search, what little people have left in them, is for glory and redemption. Answers. What have we done? What have we lost? Is it worth it? There's a struggle to make this worth the sacrifices and to not be that person... the one people thought would be great but didn't get far. There's a fight still in us. One that makes us want to prove, and need to believe, that this was for a greater cause. That we didn't put ourselves on the line for local entertainment. The fist we most fear is the lack of that proof.