It’s All About Love

As you weirdos may remember, I do martial arts. I started doing it last summer. I’m currently working on my purple belt (I think. I have trouble remembering what colors go where in the system). I started off with one coach (Mark #2). Now I have a new coach (Mark #1).

My new coach recently told me that the marital arts are all about love. He heard that from someone, and he admitted that at first it was difficult for him to understand. It’s fighting. How is fighting about love?

What he failed to realize at the time is that martial arts is about self-defense. As a person learning martial arts, essentially learning how to fight, you learn that you don’t get into fights. You don’t WANT to get into fights. They teach you that if you’ve gotten yourself in a fight, you’ve already lost (as a women, I see flaws in this line of thinking, but I understand the point).

Here’s the idea: you want to do all that you can do to not fight someone. You walk away. You de-escalate a situation by talking. You avoid certain situations to begin with (dark alleys and the like).

But if you end up in a fight, it’s all about love.

I understood this concept when Mark #2 presented it to me like this: Do you think you could defend yourself?

Umm…

::gurglie noise::

Did it just get REALLY hot in here?

::shrug::

Mark #2: Imagine someone was attacking your nieces. Do you think you could defend them?

Fuck. Yes.

There’s the love.

That’s how the martial arts are all about love. You will do anything to defend the people you love. You will fight like hell to protect your family. I don’t have kids (#childfreebychoice), but I have people in my life that I would do anything for. If someone tried to hurt one of my nieces, one of my nephews, my sister, ANYONE in my life, I wouldn’t hesitate.

But why did I hesitate when asked if I could defend myself? I do love myself, but it’s something that is really tough. Thankfully, I’ve always had very supportive people around me. My parents loved me. They told me they were proud of me. They’ve always encouraged me to do the things I’m passionate about. They never told me that I was stupid or not good enough.

But I’ve told myself that I’m not good enough. I’ve told myself things like that my whole life. I used to stare at my thighs and pinch the fat and think I was gross. I’ve spent countless hours staring at and obsessing over my pores. It times, I was convinced that I was fat. Ugly. Gross. Unsexy. No one could ever like me. UGH!

Soon, that transitioned into not being smart enough. Not deserving to be in college or graduate school. I had the feeling that I was an imposter. No way I could have actually earned a degree (or three) based on MY ability. Someone must’ve not been paying attention. I slipped through the cracks. Really, you guys, I’m not supposed to be here!

My evielovely project, my writing, my therapy, and even part of my martial arts are all things that I’m doing to get over that. That negative talk. That imposter feeling. That self-hate. I’m working on building up my self-esteem and grow my love for myself.

My next post, I’m going to write about my depression. I wanted it to be this post, but I took me a while to figure out HOW I wanted to write about depression. What does that word mean? What does it feel like? What does it look like? What does it do to me? Someone recently asked me about it, and I struggled to explain it, in part because it’s personal (jeez, dude! It’s kinda none of your biz-nessss).

But then I got to thinking that I may be really helpful, and therefore REALLY important, to explain what that word means. Because it means a LOT of different things.

I couldn’t just jump into a post about depression, my struggle with it, what I’m going to work through it, and so on. So this is my start.

It’s all about love.

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