2013 in Review

I have come to enjoy sitting in my car, surfing the web on my phone, waiting for my body to calm down so I can drive home safely from karate. I run fluids, drink water, catch my breath, wipe my face, and just sit peacefully for a little while. This is also usually the time I blog, while the feeling is fresh.

Randori is a very slow, controlled spar. The moves we make need to be extremely gentle, and no contact should be audible. Randori is a space to practice technique. It's essential. I am very unfocused during randori because I am primarily thinking about not injuring myself. Moving slowly means more energy, more muscle tone, and quicker fatigue. During a fight I would be dead meat.

Feeling brave, and not wanting to waste the last class of 2013, I practiced break falls with the class. Left, centre, right. I learned pretty quickly that nothing is more important than protecting my head.

Break falls are something that I really plan to master, as every step is a fall risk when you have EDS. Falling safely is the best thing I can train myself to do because it is simply an unavoidable part of life. While it would be nice to not fall at all, such is unrealistic.

We did a few new and challenging drills today. As I struggled to keep up I realized that I was still in fact keeping up. What an epiphany! And how humbling, that I have been supported throughout. I was overcome with grief that my wife has given up on me, and her entire family is gone from my life, my support system. I felt so lost in realizing that, although they have all gone, I am not myself lost. I have followed my Sensei's directions,  listened to his advice, and held the dojo more closely in my heart than any place I have ever loved, including my home town of Buffalo.

Here are some of my biggest successes in 2013:
-Moving from 9-kyu to 7-kyu
-Getting off IV fluids during class
-Getting through almost an entire class without stopping
-Learning to adapt movements according to pain and tolerance, without compromising technique
-Learning Geki Sai Dai Ni, Sanchin and Saifa kata
-Connecting with other karateka online
-Attending outdoor events with my dojo
-Making new and wonderful friends
-Making karate a priority

Something happened between my 8-kyu and 7-kyu belts. I have changed. My body shape has changed dramatically, my self-acceptance has kicked me around a bit and I've learned to cope. Karate has become a much more serious practice. Every decision I make in life is based on how it will affect my performance in karate.

After my wife left I started looking into moving back to Buffalo, where I got my start in karate, as with life. But my Sensei is a father to me, and one of my best friends. What is a real father, but a humble man, aware of what he can and cannot offer to the world, who spends his top efforts on the impact of love on impressionable minds? What, but the impetus behind safe and healthy decisions in the darkest times that help a vulnerable person emerge stronger and better? I hesitate to write this, not because he has not been all of these things, but that my biological father was the bleakest opposite.

What is a Sensei, but the same? Either way, there is plenty of kicking and screaming.

Everyone in my dojo is such a pleasure to work with. I love every last person in my dojo, I feel part of a family. How could I leave? I need to stay here and become what I have set out to be.

Regarding EDS, I'm baffled: how could medical school have been too high a benchmark, but karate so approachable? My only hypothesis is that, at the dojo, I adapt in any way I can, and my karate family works with me. Med school is far more competitive and exclusive, to the detriment of people with disabilities who could really do something fantastic if they had better access. Now that I am no longer planning for a family I often wonder whether, after my first black belt, might I actually become well enough, able to endure enough, to attempt school again? What might the prognosis be for a medicine career if I were to become stronger and healthier? Will the zebra monster still get me? Is there anything worth fighting this hard for if not my dreams?

At the loss of my wife and our plans for a child I have realized that the best person who will always be there for me is my future self. I had better get ready to meet that person. They are much stronger than I am, and I want them to be proud of what I did on the way to meeting them. I did not break my wedding vows, I have not given up on faith, and through the grace of hundreds of people--literally hundreds--I have not given up on myself.

The holidays are killing me. This is my current opponent. It's great to say all those things I just said, but I am still grieving tremendously. My friend accurately described this time in my life as "fucking brutal." It's even so hard to pray that I just stick to my school's Dojokun:

Through discipline, strength and humility, I will strive to bring out the best in myself and others. I will use common sense before self-defense and never be abusive or offensive. I will strive to have patience, kindness, gentleness and self-control.

Mokuso yame. (Meditation complete.)

The Path

How ever many years I've got left to live, that's how long I'm going to train in karate. Some part of me is alive which has had no voice of its own for thirty years.

My dojo posted online:
"I can show you the path but I cannot wall it for you."

To which I replied:
It is enough that you walk beside me, and sit with me when I fall, don't let me sit for too long, and help me get back up again, and stay close until I can stand on my own. Getting through those falls is 80% of the work for me and I am grateful for the support of my dojo.

The Kicker

Tonight I learned during randori (slow sparring to practice technique with a partner) that if you kick repeatedly the other person has to continuously look down to block, and that's a good chance to strike the head of they aren't protecting. Of course, I learned this because I was the other person who want protecting their head! That's why we go slowly.

I also got a chance to see what it's like to spar while severely nauseous. I guess I have gotten too ambitious about drinking water instead of relying entirely on IV fluids. That was a great thing because I learned my limits. I also barfed up my dinner.  I'm calling it a win because I didn't barf on the floor. Yeah!

Double Take

When you move up in rank you don't have to get up as early to catch the Saturday class, which begins at 9am for the intermediate and advanced level karateka. I remembered this half-way through the 8am class. No harm done, I just stayed for the next one!  I even made it most of the way through.

I can now drink about 36oz. of fluids per day with no reflux. With better nutrition my body has been more stable. As much as I wish I didn't have EDS, I wish my friends who had EDS were as lucky as I am to be getting incrementally better,  albeit incredibly slowly and with painstaking effort. Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome is really a terrible thing. It can be disheartening when your physiotherapist and occupational therapist throw their hands up and say,  "I don't know what to do, so what do you want to try?" I am thinking about these things during karate because I wonder if they understand what I am really going through--or if I even understand it myself. It is so overwhelming that sometimes I just have to stop worrying about it, lest it snap me in half.

I've been trying a new thing: doing kata while seated, as though I were in my wheelchair. This gives me a great opportunity to practice without fear of falling over. In truth I have only ever fallen over once in karate, an enormous accomplishment, but no reliever of the vigilance it takes to catch myself the million other times I lose my balance or simply don't have the executive control of my legs that I need to have.

When I practice kata seated I still keep timing as though my legs were doing what they should be doing. Usually I am also activating those muscles as I am able, at least by tensing them. A common misconception about wheelchair users is that we are all paraplegic. Society doesn't easily accept that just because some people can walk does not mean that they should, or that it is even safe to do so. I am thinking about this during my kata and trying to wash it from my head with a flood of hyper-focus on what I'm doing at the present moment. Instead of getting into a power struggle between my  frustration and my goals, I choose to be satisfied with the fact that I've shown up,  given it my all, and haven't given in just because my legs have given out. I know that as soon as I can safely use my legs again, I will. Until then, I will learn kata sitting down, because I need to know how to do this stuff from my chair, too.

I want to focus more on keeping my movements fluid, consistent and accurate. Having to worry about only two limbs at a time is helpful, but can also be a hindrance when putting it all together.

The Potluck
After karate my dojo threw a potluck party!  These are always fun, and I always learn something new. The last one I went to there was a kendo demonstration. This time it was haka, a Maori dance from New Zealand!  I am a big fan of New Zealand culture, particularly the Maori. The dancer and his family are from Hawaii, and they taught me a lot of interesting things!  It was great to make new friends, and my jaw hurts from smiling. When an EDSer's jaw hurts from smiling you know you've done something right! The dancer's wife lay over my neck a beautiful Kukui lei, which I had never seen before!  She explained that all people wear a lei in Hawaii, and give them to people they meet. I was very touched, and I thought of the Japanese Tea Ceremony that is so special to me. Maybe I can make matcha for my new friends sometime.

Another family from Puerto Rico brought a traditional dish of banana and chicken,  wrapped and baked in a banana leaf. They also brought a sweet coconut drink, of which I could have drunk a gallon. I got to meet their children, and we chatted casually. I have known them for a while and enjoyed practicing with them, so it was something special to share a meal with them.

So many other great things happened at the potluck, but if you really want to know all the secret wonders of karate you'll have to join a dojo and see for yourself. Who knows?  You might bring something magical of your own to the pot.

Be well.

Mister Misser

All night I had violent muscle spasms, an amplified form of the day's evil pains. These spams hit so hard and fast that if I could replicate them I might get a new kata. My body wrenches so hard that I flail, so heaven help you if I happen to be nearby with hot tea in an uncovered tumbler. I got a dislocation that it took me hours to reduce, a bruise from flailing into the wall, a nasty headache and soreness all over.

I missed karate this morning.

Today I had a lot of plans. I won't be able to do them independently. I might not be able at all, we'll see. So far I've had breakfast and brushed my teeth. This is an enormous accomplishment every single day and I give thanks for that.

There is nothing in my dojokun about perseverance, and I prefer it that way. Sensei often speaks about Higaonna-Sensei's unforgiving and relentless hours of repetitive drills. He says of 2007 punches while crouched in shiko dachi, "but you know what? I got through it by only thinking about the one I'm doing: now this punch... now this punch...now this punch...."

My point is that it makes sense that mindfulness has a cumulative impact on overall success. That is, just focus on the next task. It's very hard to do that with EDS because I will wear myself out for several days by doing certain things for five minutes, and this is not hyperbole.

I hate missing karate. That place is the only thing I strive to do, the only thing I always enjoy. It's where I get to be with myself and my body in a positive way. When I can't make it I feel so sorry, so very sad. I miss my Sensei, I miss working in groups, I miss just being somewhere and knowing that I don't have to plan out the next hour. I can just hang out and have fun, and know that I will be able to handle anything that happens there. 

Being in the dojo reduces the anxiety I have about EDS. We never do a drill for very long, and if we do I just take a rest when I need to. Sensei has instructed me to bow out and rest when I need to, so that means being a tough guy is not acceptable. I have to follow the rules and be honest about what I can and cannot do. In that sense I interact with my body's limits, and it doesn't seem unmanageable like it does outside of the dojo.

My second instruction is to get back in there as soon as I can. I live for that feeling I get when I open the door and bow back in.

Keeping On

Onegaishimasu. Please teach me.

Life continues just as it has never promised to wait or slow down. But I look for the beauty and I saw it at the dojo this evening.

I had to sit down so I didn't overdo it. That left an odd number of karateka, with one of the younger karateka left out of a paired up exercise. Sensei slipped on his gloves and paired up with her.

Sensei has a big job to do. He is the head teacher, the owner, the leader. He is also a father, a friend, a counselor, a spiritual leader, a moral compass, a cheerleader, and a genuine human being. What a tall order for one guy! No wonder he looks tired by 9:30pm when it's time to close up shop.  The whole day through he is watching like Peter Cottontail. Are the children safe? Are the adults being good role models? Are the exercises challenging enough? Are the exercises too challenging? Did the business meet the bottom line this month? Is the paperwork done? Is the restroom stocked? Does the timer have batteries? Is the floor sanitized? Is my attitude on straight?

It's truly no wonder he isn't sure how to answer the simple question, "How are you?"  Every day he works with students to help them face their fears and challenges. Nobody has a hill that he won't climb. It's amazing to see.

But this young lady who was the odd one out today happens to be a bit skittish. But I saw Sensei in a rare moment. He was simply playing, enjoying a spar with her, building her confidence. He was a lion playing with his cub.

How it makes me happy to have seen this. It reminded me that I need to have fun in life.  I enjoy karate but until I felt at least a little safe with my skills I took it far too seriously. Constant hypervigilance is part and parcel of life with EDS. But if he can take on all that he does and still play, then maybe I can, too.

Sensei ni arigatou gozaimashita. Thank you for the lesson, Sensei.

Reaching Out, Reaching In

The belts in this picture are my former ones, and my finest achievements. They show that I have not given up on my body, and they wrap around me as does the love of so many people.

It has been seven months since my wife left me. My dojo has continued to be the anchor that keeps me from sailing over the edge of the earth. A hundred or more people with and without EDS cheer me on while my medical professionals help me keep at it. I feel like a jerk because, despite all of this, I still ache for her. This is a major error of thought as it invalidates everyone who has helped me pick up the pieces.  Karate has been a way to cope, something to focus on.

The picture in this blog entry is of my first four belts, stacked and bundled with a modest thread. They rest on my bookshelf where my wedding photo once stood. I need them there right now because they remind me to continue fighting like H. E. Double Hockey Sticks to stay positive. It hurts to be without my wife, to know that she has let go and moved on, but I have not. 

My friend and Sensei Mike, up in Buffalo, challenged me to keep a leader's attitude. I am aware of the fact that I say much online, and everything I say can be construed rather deeply by a lot of people. Such is true of anything we say or do. It has taken much grace by people who continue to reach out to me, to remind me that even getting support online can be asked for and gotten in a positive way. Positivity does not just happen. It is a choice--a way of being--actively pursued. 

Asking for support at all is a positive move. Just like asking for help to perform a move or technique in karate, asking for help to navigate a cloudy day is another way to connect with people who care. Self-Defense is about self-preservation. If we go the extra mile physically,  then it makes sense to also go the extra mile emotionally, and both in good company.

I do not wait for a crisis before I reach out. It is the "humility" part of my dojokun, a beautiful meditation authored by my Sensei on which I rely several times a day. We all have to make choices. If we are creative and patient we can perhaps always find at least one positive choice. If we cannot, that is the signal to reach out.

Reaching out looks like this:
1. Identify people I trust with my thoughts before crisis starts, tag them in my phone contacts as teammates.  Also tag 1-800-SUICIDE, 1-800-VET-2-VET, and any other crisis line.  It helps to have a confidential and nonjudgmental person at the ready.

2. Don't overthink it, just call. Say, "Do you have some time to talk? I am having a tough time and could use some support."

3. Be honest with yourself and the person or people helping you. Tell the truth.

4. Do your best. It will be messy because crisis is a highly emotional time. Karate and other self-defense practitioners may feel that they should be tough enough to handle it alone, but the strength to be vulnerable is essential in self-care. 

5. Give your awesome self a round of applause. You go, you tough cookie. Make a plan for tomorrow so you have something to look forward to, practice a kata, drink some water, and get some rest.

Good work! Nobody said it was easy. But if you practice karate you are no stranger to being tough. Inner strength is much of overall strength. Seize the opportunities to get a little stronger by practicing with others. That is, reach out when you need to. 

Now on my 7-kyu belt, I am right at the early intermediate level. I think that I am conceptually in the right place. Physically I am working very hard to get stronger. Stronger, in my world means more stable, movements more deliberate, complex exercises practiced more conservatively in favour of longevity. I really want to strike a balance on that last one before I progress any further. I reach out to my doctors, physiotherapists, friends, and of course, my Sensei. 

Be well.