Ballad of the Stubborn

I have never been the brightest child.

I have been the stubborn one.

For an early age I've always hated being told that I can't do something. I was the three year old on the slide and jungle gym. I was the 6 year old asking to borrow the big kid's 10 speed. The 10 year old kicking the crap out the kid who picked on me even though I went home with the bigger bruises, he went home crying. I was the 16 year old who started a family. The divorced 21 year old who worked 40 hours, went to school, looked after my children's needs and still dated on the sly. I was the 25 year old told that my training was wasted on me and that I was too old to fight again.

If I look at the all the things I've done, I'm the first person to tell you that I done most of it by trail and error. When I tell you to not do anything I haven't done twice it's not to be witty, but a confession on the errors I've committed. If I was smarter I would have figured things sooner and have saved myself a lot of time, effort, and scars. And yet my path have been laid with the doubt of others and the predictions of my failure of those close and removed from me.

Fuck those guys.

When I was diagnosed with TB at 120 lbs and told that I would never recover, I ran, lifted, detoxed until I gained healthy weight back in 5 years and grew an inch in height. When I realized that I was afraid of heights and have to fight back the urge to fling myself over the edge, I decided to go on trip that forced me to deal with my fear until I can face it and overcome it even though I'm still terrified. When I was told that I was too old to go back to school, I told everyone to fuck off and pull myself through. When I was told that math was always going to be my weakest subject I started to study to the point I tutored others and learned to deal with different learning abilities in people to the point that even the most fearful mathophobe can make math their bitch. When I tore my shoulder training for judo tourney I healed and focused on training others. When I applied trained to be a life guard I was a weak swimmer and not one liked how I swam, I learned to not only to improve my swimming but swam my test with crapped legs and the highest score. When the vein in my leg burst I was told to remain still and just heal. It took me three years to get my leg back and I'm running as well as I ran in high school. When I dislocated my shoulder I was told that no one can help me get it in, so I put it in myself since I was not going to ride the pain. When told that I was too old to fight at 25 since my body will not recover. Now I spar with 20 year old and realize that my martial arts training alone is older than them.

And now, I've dislocated my shoulder in January. And I've come to reflect that all those years of hard training that has not only increased my knuckle's size and hardness, but has allowed me to hit harder and to drop others with a minimum effort has been compromised due to this injury. Perhaps my shoulder will improve. Maybe with surgery I can recover some of my dexterity and strength. Maybe with enough rehab I can increase my present hitting power of 40% to 70 or maybe even 80% of what it once was. And yet, it only takes one person to tell me those words that I've come to associate with hard work and effort.

"You can't do that."

Fuck that.

Even if I can't get my right shoulder back and hit hard at my capacity, I'm going to get back what I can and then some. Even then I'm already training my left hand, relying on Wolfe's theory and using my collection of stones to break and remodel my fist. I'm working at muscle memory and breaking down every motion and position of my punch until I can duplicate it on my left. I will hit harder, faster, and greater than I have before. I will not only duplicate my power in my left hand, but I will multiply it in others, sharing my experience so that I'm not the only on able to drop people and break open anything.

Why?

I honestly do not know. I just know that if you tell me that I can't, even in principle, I will. That simple. I will change my reality or die trying. And if family history can tell  me anything, I'm not going to go easy.

I'm enjoying shutting people up.

That and I somehow I find solace in seeing me face my death swinging and screaming, "I die cool."