I don’t mean physically, although after having two knee surgeries and gaining weight as I recovered from anorexia, that’s partially true (in a good way). I mean my determination, drive, and hunger seem muted.
I miss doggedly pursuing a goal. I miss the hunger of seeing something on the horizon and working until I reach it. I feel like my brain has been on pause for the last two years.
A few weeks ago I was telling a friend about my weekend, which included my partner and I walking from our urban condo down the road to a fun little pub (and adjacent taco truck).
“I wish I lived close enough to walk places,” she said wistfully. She lives in a nice-sized home with a pool in the suburbs.
Lately I’ve been wishing I lived in a big house with a pool in the suburbs. I dream of big houses almost every night and wake up feeling disappointed.
Several months ago a friend remarked on Facebook that her daughter desperately wished they lived near a Target and Home Goods. They live in our rural west Texas hometown. I live within a mile of Target and Home Goods and would love to move back to a small rural town. Every time I drive to the Texas Hill Country to visit my parents I threaten to leave the metropolitan area where I live and move to one of the little towns along the way. (Ideally to a big house with a pool.)
I know successful authors and content creators who speak longingly of health insurance and retirement, which I get with my corporate job. Meanwhile I dream of being a successful full-time writer.
You see where I’m going with this?
There’s nothing wrong with having aspirations, but you also have to make sure you don’t get into the trap of never being satisfied, of thinking the grass is always greener.
During my Great 2021 Depression, I hated everything about my life: my job, my home, my “writing career.” The only things that remained steady were my close relationships. Therapy helped, but so did getting back into taekwondo. It gets me out of my house and out of my head. I’ve also cut WAY down on my social media time.
I don’t have a long-term solution to that nagging feeling of FOMO or dissatisfaction, but a hobby certainly helps, and for me, I can count on taekwondo.
And tonight, my partner and I are going to enjoy the HOA-cared-for pool at my paid-off condo and walk to a restaurant. Sounds like a good time to me.
Two weeks ago I saw my orthopedic surgeon for a six-month check up. We wanted to see my progress after I’d returned to taekwondo training, took up strength training (not the first time in my life, but the first time since my injury), and continued deep tissue massage treatment from a chiropractor. The possibility of a third surgery to remove additional scar tissue still hung in the balance.
He was so happy with my progress he shook my hand and all but released me from care unless I just wanted to visit the office again.
The following week the counselor I’d been seeing shared she was leaving the practice and wondered if I needed to continue sessions with another counselor. We’d gotten down from sessions once a week to once a month, and I admitted to feeling much better overall about my personal and professional woes. I still have lingering depression sometimes, but I am much better at recognizing and addressing it.
We decided to end my therapy knowing I could always come back if I needed help again.
Today I saw my chiropractor for more torment–I mean treatment, and he reduced our visit cadence from every two weeks to once a month.
In that post I wondered if the “down for maintenance time” was necessary for rest and renewal. I spent so much money on healthcare last year that I was able to get a tax break. Was it worth it?
Nearly a year after I wrote that post I have to appreciate how far I’ve come: I DON’T need another scar tissue surgery and am finally seeing more movement with knee extension and flexion–scar tissue build up has been the bane of my existence since ACL reconstruction in July 2020. I don’t hate my job or my life any more, and when I do feel down I have better ways of coping. I’m NOT starving myself any more and pretty much kicked the habits of a thirty-year-old eating disorder.
Life is good. I’m doing well and am able to fully enjoy being back in taekwondo. Third dan test, here I come.
Last Wednesday I found out that I did not place in a book contest I’d entered my memoir in. This came on the heels of a disappointing (and expensive) marketing campaign and seeing a smarmy swath of authors from my publishing cohort bragging (rightfully so, to be fair) on social media about sales, interviews, awards, or other book-selling wins. Their books are good…but g-ddamnit, so is mine. It’s really good.
You guys…for the first time in eight years I forgot to do my anniversary post!
My blog turned eight on April 15, 2022. Since I began my blog I have made new martial arts friends, shared both my triumphs and struggles, and have been able to promote my first book and many media appearances!
I also started writing for the online magazine Martial Journal–you can find links to all my featured articles here.
Thank you all for your support.
As is tradition, here are my ten favorite posts from the past year:
Like everyone else in the world for the last two years, I’ve been reflecting a lot…like, a LOT, a lot. In my quest to break free from misery-inducing perfectionism and find my authentic voice, I’ve discovered who I am NOT just as much or even more so than who I AM.
I think I’m having an identity crisis that may be coinciding with a midlife crisis.
Some time in late November, my publisher advertised a webinar focused on preparing authors to give a TED Talk or TED Talk-like speech.
“I want to give a TED Talk!” I thought. Why not? My book is interesting; talking about mental health is very timely; and I have ten years of public speaking experience.
The problem was…I wasn’t really living my imaginary TED Talk. With my memoir and various articles and podcasts I’ve told a compelling beginning and middle of a story, but I find myself further from the end (or a picturesque “happy ending”) than I thought I’d be.
There can be too much of a good thing, and that includes martial arts. In this article I explore the feeling of being overly dependent on a martial art while my emotional health suffered elsewhere. I seek to answer the two-part question: can, indeed, you be addicted to your martial art, and what do you do about it?
Check out Martial Journal’s wide variety of quality reading on all things martial arts: commentary, training tips, media, and more.