The problem is not my ability to comprehend, and it is scarcely my ability to adapt the meaning of each kata to something Zebra-friendly. My biggest problem is how quickly I can lose heart.
I missed a week of classes because I got a superficial hand injury that ended up having somewhat catastrophic consequences. I expect to make a full recovery, but after a solid week of doctor pinball I am feeling mostly humiliated and deflated. The doctors who don't know EDS are terrible. The ones who get it are stuck with what's left of me after I have been chewed up and spit out by the insensitive majority.
Before I even got to the dojo I knew it would be a real drag to sit on the bench while others got to learn, play and grow. But I set an intention to go and to take from it what I could. It wasn't much because my hearing is even worse from the bench but I got something out of it.
Practice was on the meaning of gekisai dai ichi. Sensei has a marvelous way of making very serious concepts fun, and in that way they become manageable.
Tonight my main lesson feels like this: I'm sick. I'd better get used to the fact that I will have major setbacks from minor incidents. That means my strength will not come from consistent training because consistency is not an option. The strength I lack is in the resolve to keep going.
From the bench I feel so angry and lonely that it would hurt less to just suffer the physical pain and jump into class. I left my gi home and came in Street clothes just to keep myself from thinking that might be an option. It would be a bad move to force my body before I am safe and ready. It would also be unfair to my Sensei and to my classmates. I already feel that I am an enormous distraction and that everyone can see how I am driving myself crazy trying not to admit that my body is a mess.
But such thinking is ridiculous! My classmates are happy to see me, and I am always excited to see them. I am making the most of a terrible hand that was dealt to me, and it's been life-changing to watch myself improve. Discovering what I cannot do is s real kick in the pants, and that's my fault, because it means I still lose sight of all the things I /can/ do.
What's worse, I feel like I am letting myself down for feeling these things when I surely know better. I'm a mighty tough cookie for someone so fragile. So why am I so easy to topple?
One thing is for sure: this is not the type of person I wish to be. I don't know what the goal is or how I will get there. All I know is that I have work to do.
I did get my belt the Monday before my injury, and I'm so glad for that surprise; Wednesday was the day I got injured. Someone up there must have been guiding me after all.
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