When It Gets Tough

Doubling over in full spasm may make it seem like I did my best in karate, and maybe I did! But I missed a cue somewhere that it was time to stop, so I will work on it! It's hard to know when something like that is a one-off or if there's something wrong with what I'm doing.

Since achieving my 4-kyu karate has gotten particularly hard. It used to be challenging, now it's hard. My skin tears open, my feet get shredded from movement, and I am so tired after class that I have to go right to sleep when I get home. But I'm satisfied with my effort, I've had a healthy amount of social interaction, I've had fun, and I fall asleep happy.

Even though I seldom get through a class without breaks I love to be there, and I look forward to going. To manage the pain I take breaks to stretch, manage pain, and hydrate. This morning I had taken a stretch break, and perhaps it would have been better if I had stayed on the bench afterword, but I ask myself, how am I to improve if I don't challenge my boundaries?

Testing boundaries is something we all do from the time we are little and we learn the word "no." The way I grew up, everything was a boundary, the boundaries moved, and it was dangerous to cross those boundaries. The only residual part of that muss with EDS is that the boundaries change, relative to my health that day. But some of the fights and stamina exercises are starting to remind me of those days. It's an opportunity to let those feelings come up and to work through them in a safe and positive environment. However, working with a counselor helps me unpack those memories, so I don't have to worry about sorting them out during a workout. I can acknowledge that they're there, make a mental note to process the memories later, and get back to my exercise. A lot of people start karate because of a traumatic past, whether it be ongoing abuse or an isolated event. It's important to keep those feelings in check because they can make you vulnerable or distract you. I keep it simple by telling myself those are yesterday's feelings, and then I take a second to connect with today's feelings, all infinitely more enjoyable.

My feet and ankles hurt a lot in class. I stop often to put bones back in, or to give them a break. I try not to let it interfere with my kata, and I work through the physiology of kata movements to see if better precision with foot placement can help. It usually does, much to my delight!

Breakfalls are still scary.  I think strategically about whether or not to let my partner drop me to the floor, and most times they do so very gently.  I haven't thought of safe ways to practice falling, but I'll come back to it.

I'm not worried that I won't be able to get to a black belt level. I'll work hard on the technical aspects and do everything I can to maximize my moves. That will take practice, my meds put me into a stupor, and I can't always decide which move to do next. But I think I'm at the proper level at which anybody with my rank would be if they had my challenges, and I trust my Sensei's judgement. He wouldn't promote me if I didn't belong in that rank because it would be unfair and unsafe. We don't work that way in my dojo; egotistical risks are rightly frowned upon.

My greatest ally is my Sensei, of course. With all of this, he is well aware of my situation and he has an incredible way of helping me through. Not once has he ever cut me down, complained, or yelled at me for not being able to do something. If I bring it up he says to just keep coming. He never makes a big deal of it, and it's never been a big deal. I need that. I need a place where my health is not going to cause a big ruckus that comes down on my head unexpectedly.  My whole karate family is great about it.

Not the best blog post, but it's where I am at the moment. Other than that, food is staying down thanks to Phenergan and I've got a little bit of energy back. I just need to keep eating, which I never want to do. But if it helps my karate, I'm in. :)

On my way out of the dojo today one of our teens held the door for me and said, "Good job today." Then I knew that I was on the right track. I love working with our teens. Every time I see them I greet them with genuine enthusiasm and eye contact. They've all picked up on it and they now return the gesture. I love it! They are all working hard to grow into good people, and though my part in that is small, I'm thrilled to have one. They brighten my life, and that's one of the million reasons I love karate!

Be well.

Do You Tape or Splint?

I try not to tape up or brace my body for class unless I absolutely need it. My primary goal is self-defense, so I want my body to work as one cohesive unit, as I may not be taped or braced in the event of an altercation. God forbid. My Sensei keeps a very close watch on me and I have enough sense to sit out of--or modify--things that would be too dangerous for me to do safely. I follow all safety instructions from my Sensei to the letter, make sure I understand the instructions,  and I trust my partners to do the same. Rotten eggs don't stay in the dojo for long, it's all good people.

Quite a few of the people in my dojo, maybe even the majority of them, have prior combat and martial art training. This makes them well prepared to control themselves, and to taper their aggression. That's actually a part of it, being able to use the minimum amount of force required to be effective. So, they get something out of working with me, too!

Every one of us is struggling with something, whether we have a disability or not. We gather in the dojo to overcome what we can, and to help one another along those journeys. In fact, our ability to be a good partner is a part of our assessment for whether or not we level up. If we are not a good partner, we don't progress. Part of our success relies on how well we can help the people we are working with. Isn't that cool? It's easily my favourite rule in my dojo!

When I first began I only worked with black belts because they had the best control of their own movements, which kept me the safest. It also gave me the privilege of befriending people who had been there for a long time, and who were much farther along in their journeys than I was. As I became stronger and better at what I was doing, it became easier to work safely with lower belts, as I got better at defending myself and lower belts tends to not strike very hard at all.

Every day is different, and every day is a fresh start. You just have to overcome and adapt, keep a level head and keep going. You will learn volumes about your body in your first three or so belts, and after that you will get into learning about the martial art itself.

Don't forget that an enormous incentive of joining the martial arts is connection with the community greater than you'll ever fully access. For example, my karate Federation, IOGKF, is worldwide. We all do exactly the same exercises, and if I walked into any dojo I could expect the same results. It's also awesome to think about the fact that many of those people already have a lot more knowledge in physiology and combat than I do, many of them are medically trained in case I do get injured, and I park my car right outside the front door so that I have access to every mobility aid and pain reliever I can jam into the vehicle!

You're going to do great. Take the plunge!

Couch to 5 Kata

I've been a blue belt for quite some time now, and I'm quite comfortable here.  This is the last belt in the first half of the belt series of Goju Ryu karate-do.  That means once I level up, things get real.  I know five kata sequences now: Gekisai Dai Ichi, Gekisai Dai Ni, Saifa, Sanchin, and Seiyunchin.  I know a lot of the bunkai (applications), I've got some randori (light sparring) under my belt, and a few blue ribbons from shiai (tournaments).  Most importantly, I've got a strong physical and emotional bond to my karate family.  They are an integral part of my existence, people for whom I pray and cry, cheer, and celebrate.  When they level up, I get so excited to have been a part of their progress that I feel proud of myself, too.  There are people who started well before me and well after me, leveling up around me.  When I finally do level up I know I will have truly earned it, and it won't just be for attendance.

Some people don't like using a belt system, but it helps me feel safe.  When higher belts know I'm just a lower kyu-belt, they will be more careful. When white belts know I'm above them, they may be braver, and worry less about my port or about the syringe of anti-emitic drugs sticking out from where I have it tucked into my bra strap, in a place that I can guard fairly well now.  Belt systems give us opportunities to celebrate the milestones, to cheer one another on, to urge ourselves to keep moving forward, to understand where we are in the curriculum, and so on.  I like it.

For a few days I've been stuck on the couch during what one of my best friends calls "Shark Week," a monthly uterine blood bath.  The progesterone during Shark Week is theoretically the culprit for the excessive laxity and pain, which one of my doctors suggested is nature's way of setting up my body to push out the baby I'll never have.  I dragged myself to the dojo, hearing my Sensei's voice in my head, "You need to be here."  I couldn't even change into my gi, I just got there and took myself to the bench.  You know what?  It was the right decision!

I'm working on learning the sequence of Seiyunchin kata.  From the bench I don't have a chance to practice like I'd like to, but Sensei always includes me.  He still answers my questions, still expects me to pay attention, and I like that very well.  Seated at the bench I can watch everybody's different shape move along the guidelines, see how it's done, see how it's not done.  Not having to perform means having the energy to really listen and think about what Sensei is saying.  It's not my preference, but the truth is that it gives me a chance to grapple with my hearing loss, and to let myself think of hearing as a positive thing for once in a while.

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance.  I have often spoken of my gi as a comfort item, something gender-neutral, a garb in which my body can just be what it is, free from interpretation and judgement.   We simply accept one another in the dojo, and it's a safe place. I wish all trans people would take at least one self-defense course.  The legislative efforts we've made are great and all, but out on the street the fact is that people get away with hate crimes.  My thoughts are with Krista, who entered immortality several years ago now.  I never stop missing her.

It's a busy blog tonight, lots of thoughts are racing through my head.  Another thing I'm thinking about is Buffalo, my home.  They've got about seven feet of snow in the Southtowns, where I'm from.  I wish I could be there to help shovel, to play, make snowmen (yes, I want to build a snowman), make snow angels, igloos, knock icicles off buildings and trees, and then come in soaking wet and frozen solid and warm up with hot soup.  I want to knock the little clusters of ice from the tassels of my scarf and blow my nose until I stop sniffling from the thaw of mucus membranes.  I miss the giant ice pack that is Buffalo, where anything that hurts is just a snow bank away from relief.

But I'd miss my dojo if I left.  My heart is 100% in it, a part of my identity, perhaps the strongest part of my identity at this time in my life.  Hopefully forever.

Be well.

Who cares about anatomy?

I think everyone, especially everyone with a chronic illness, should read at least one Anatomy & Physiology book, even if they won't understand it all. It has really helped me put the pieces together and keep the terror at bay. I can get through a violent muscle spasm in my "shoulder" by knowing, "well of course it hurts, it's right over my brachial plexus!" I know it sounds intimidating but it makes a huge difference.

The spasms on my brachial plexus on either side have become officially chronic. Last night one was so severe that I had to leave the dojo. When I got home I showered, took a beefy muscle relaxer, and my night was over. I lay awake surfing funny animal photos on Pinterest, waiting for the pill to deaden the hellfire in my neck.

When I can't get to karate it's a horrible time. My emotions go into a tantrum and I feel so lonely for my karate family. I try hard to be patient, but I reel on the fact that karate is the one thing in which I have ever physically succeeded, and it's all I want to do.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that, if I could just arm myself with enough knowledge, maybe I could beat Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. At those times it couldn't be harder to accept that such a plan is completely unrealistic. Although, knowing more does help me cope better, in that it helps me to communicate exactly what I'm going through, helps me interpret what moves I need to make next, and helps me push myself to do the therapeutic work I need to perform after I exercise.

My health has been on a frightening decline since July. But I'm stubborn and I'm working hard on this life, piece by piece, poco a poco.

On Self-determination, Anxiety and Guilt

Working from bed sucks. I want my bed to be for reading and sleeping. I'm glad to have fought for the ability to work from home but I'm frustrated to be so limited in my own home.

It's one of those days where I've been awake for hours and haven't the energy to even brush my teeth. Just trying to stick to the schedule and pace myself. The pain is sky-high and the anxiety follows suit if I don't keep actively reminding myself that there will be better days.

Sensei called to ask how I'm doing and I am very grateful for the call, it was nice to hear the voice of another human being. On days like this when I had physiotherapy at home to look forward to I had a little help starting my day, and then I had the rehabilitation help to try to get my pain under control. It left me better able to function, which translates to being able to function at all. Now I don't have that and it's tough again. This can get depressing but I am trying hard to remember that I look forward to better days.

Tonight I have karate. Here is the thought process:
-How will I get there?
-I'll be up by then, but will I stay up?
-Can I go all out since I will be going right back to bed, or will my blood pressure destabilize?
-Should I use my crutches?
-Should I bring my blood pressure cuff?
-Will I be able to work the day after?
-Would I be able to work the day after anyway?

Karate is a part of my exercise regimen and a human right of self-determination. It keeps me healthy by giving me physical improvement and emotional connection with other people.

Someone asked, "what do you look forward to?" And the answer was karate. I've pined on this question for a month. That's the answer. It has become a need, part of my identity. A very positive part, curiously compatible with my disabilities.

I may not last in the class tonight but I am compelled to be there. It's a good thing, and no one need ever feel guilty about a best effort to take care of themselves.