I once read on a sign at the New Carrollton D.C. Metro station that one pound of weight lost equates to four pounds of relief on the knees.
Just one week away from the end of March and the end of my Zebro Warrior Challenge, I am thrilled to say I have met all of my goals and then some!
It was a fair bit of reconfiguration for the entire first month, so I learned that quarterly challenges are better for me than short-term "burns" of exercise programming. I had to adapt to sick time (a lot more of it than I had expected), going easy on weaker days, maximizing stronger days without overdoing it, the logistics of always having a clean gi and getting groceries regularly.
Those last two are very, very hard. I still need to figure out how to either get laundry and groceries done independently or get help with them. It's just too hard. Likewise, it's nearly impossible for me to clean pots and pans without pain and dislocations. I've squared away a lot of issues with Activities of Daily Living (ADLs) but these ones are just not options. Neither is vacuuming my stairs or my sofa.
How does one explain the legitimate need for an in-home health aid while also advancing in karate? "Self-determination" is the term for a person's right to choose, where in my case I am choosing my method of exercise as karate. It's so strange to think that karate, an aggressive and highly active art, is the most successful physical thing I have ever done. I have danced tap, jazz, acro and ballet; worked on stage crews in school and professional theatres; played hockey; ice skated; swum; played on the tennis team; done the gym thing, and run. All of these ended with very sad stories. Karate may well end the same, but never before has my heart been so fulfilled, nor my body so improved.
To be fair, physiotherapy is a part of my daily life and I am highly educated now about anatomy and physiology. I also have adequate access to medical care and protective equipment. I have the spoils of a support network too large to count. These are contributors to my success, but what also deserves recognition here is my dojo. My Sensei keeps a very close eye on me and if I miss karate it had better be for good reason. He holds me accountable, and I have beber had anyone look after me quite like he does. Sometimes I think he can see farther into my future with karate than I can. Other times we are both just praying that God watches over us all while I try a new thing with the body I have been given. Nevertheless, every day that the dojo is open I want to be there. I want to be learning, working, contributing, and growing.
By the time I was 18 years old I had moved 19 times, as I grew up in a household unstable at best. I have always ached to move back to my hometown of Buffalo, New York, but now I have finally found a place that feels like a home to me, and it is at my dojo. Nowhere in the world do I feel safer, more challenged, more centered or more focused. And now that I know what these feelings are really like, I will be able to recognize them when I have achieved them outside of the dojo. These are healthy feelings to have, and I have cultivated them over the courses of good and bad times.
Since I started karate, and thanks to this challenge, I have lost 50lbs. My pants are five sizes smaller. Maybe it's a little unflattering still, but I discovered tonight that I now fit into size 'L' t-shirts. (It might be more flattering than a baggy shirt, how should I know? I have zero fashion sense.) 50lbs is about five cats, think about it. Imagine carrying five cats everywhere you go, but without the snuggling and cuteness.
A weird thing about weight loss: my family is never as proud of anything as they are when someone loses weight. It's directly tied to self-worth. When I was young I heard a man on PBS say, "if you haven't noticed, I'm fat; that doesn't make me ugly or stupid." I think that man saved my self-esteem. I have never let my weight get in the way of my sense of self-efficacy or self-worth.
Since I have lost this weight my body is starting to take on a curvaceous shape that makes me feel incredibly self-conscious. I identify as genderqueer, having no claim to either the male or female end of the gender binary. I'm having trouble sorting out my feelings about my body as itself and my body as something with which society interacts. The pressure is finally so overwhelming that I'm dropping the subject for a while and trying to focus exclusively on health, letting my body shape develop as it may. In short, I just want to keep focusing on karate and getting stronger. I don't want my gender identity or expression to get in the way of who I really am. Who I am at my basest is pretty rad. That's good enough.
The most satisfying and exciting finale for my Zebro Warrior Challenge is that I have been invited to test for my 6-kyu belt in Goju Ryu Karate on 29 March 2014. That's five belts away from black. Two days from the end of my Challenge will be Spirit Training (where you train so hard on a Saturday morning the the only thing you have left to carry you out of the dojo is your spirit), my test, and a dojo potluck. Then I will have two days to recover from that and finish strong, ready for the next adventure.
I owe a great deal of thanks to Sensei Mike of Defensive Arts Dojo where I got my start in martial arts. He helped me design the challenge, set goals, and stay motivated. It didn't take much to make me feel safe, grounded and ready for this hard work. Here in Maryland, Sensei Tony has given me as much access to time at the Warriors of Grace Karate dojo as I could find, allowing me to practice during the day when the dojo was empty, to review and solidify my basic skills in the beginners' classes, to observe the advanced classes, and everything in between.
Life with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and dysautonomia is brutal. There is zero question. It should not be doubted that it is not as bad as it has seemed or that it is not a very real and disabling condition just because I have made improvements against the odds. The climb is supremely steep, with doctors not knowing what to do or what to recommend, assorted medical teams working rigorously to rehabilitate me, merciless stacks of paperwork and research, a bank account running on fumes from the cost of care, judgmental social pressure, and more. I am just writing this blog to prove--probably to myself--that this life, with all its hell, is still worth it. Karate is a wonderful adventure.
Whenever I get to heaven it will have a room that is just like my dojo, and I will have a body that can practice forever, with angels just like my fellow karateka on earth. I love them.
When I started karate one of the Sensei said, "I think you'll find that you belong here." Mission accomplished. I have never belonged anywhere as I do here.
