I look...Happy?

Today at work when I was pouring my morning coffee, one of my groovy office gals said "I love it, you are happy again".  My first reaction was--the hell I am!
but then that didn't feel right either.  
holy cow---could  I be on the road to heart healthy?
stay tuned kiddos.....

basics

I have tried to get in the habit of writing a bit here and there, but nothing seems to come to mind when my fingers start tapping. Ah well here we go---the fingers must get in the habit of typing sometime.

Training's going nicely, except for last Friday, which I cancelled due to staying out too late on a school night, drinking way too much on a school night, and waking up realizing that I wasn't 25 anymore....the hangover was so intense my fingernails pulsed.  Plus, the horrors of the night before were far worse than any haunted house could ever pull off.
STORY:

My ex has a great friend, through the relationship he became a mutual friend.  The three of us would parade around causing mischief.  After the break-up, he didn't want to take sides. 

What a great guy right? I mean-------plus-------

After everything had been said and done, that ex, wasn't the ex that I'm missing in my heart these days. It had been a while where any feeling other than relief or anger was felt regarding that situation.  I thought that it would be fine and dandy to go out and have a few drinks.  

Oh baby was I wrong.

The anger--oh the bile--oh the I should never have thought this was a good idea ever in the history of mankind.  I've had some real shit for brains ideas, but I think this one, well, this one seems to take the cake.  My first drink went down like a glass of water on a 100 degree day after jogging 120 miles.

The 2nd, even faster.

Then the wise gal in me came out and whispered---move to beer darlin' this road seems like it could be getting a little bumpy.  

"Liar."

"excuse me"

shit, I thought that was my inner monologe, but no.

I'm not going to share the extent of embarrassment, angry slanders, you know, the great stuff that only comes to you when you wake up the next morning, take a shower, and hear these little voices that sound like you echoing words and phrases that you can only say---

no way, I wouldn't have said that out loud...

I did seal the night with the "hanging out with you is too hard"

he agreed.

Yay, glad I tried that little Science experiment out.

But now I'm safe in October's nook of witches, goblins, Oktoberfests, dressing up and pretending you aren't you--at least for a moment. I love to rewatch all my favorite horror films.  I don't dig the gore, not going to lie.  But if there's a good story in it, I will scare the bejeezus out of myself, no questions asked.  And since I'm a little bored talking about heart break, lost love, etc., etc. What better way to take ones mind off things than watching Ripley kick some alien asses?
Seems like a better option than hanging out with your ex"mutual friends".
just sayin'.....

Ready, set, ok now! I mean NOW!

I'm a 3 legged dog.

Well, my life has become the 3 legged dog.  

There used to be four legs. I felt balanced. Work was great, friends groovy, family's healthy, and I was in love with the man of my dreams. 

Then one day I got hit by a bus and lost one of my legs. 

Work was still great.

Friends still groovy.

Family's health and well being--still there.

But the man of my dreams, well, he went off into the dark midnight.

I have spent the last month remembering the how's, what's, & why's of the breakup.  Trying to make myself feel better by putting life into perspective, appreciating what I have, what I've been given, & what I've worked for. 

But that one ghost leg, well I felt that loss like someone cut my jugular. 

especially after a couple of martini's...

at night...

alone in bed. 

However, even cutting out the martini's...at night....alone in bed still fucking sucked.

You would think that with life's experience it would get easier, but its doesn't.  Visions of a natural disaster filled my head. Earthquake, Flood, Apocalypse.  No one's there to help fight off Zombie's, those Mad Max guys, or the WeHo bandits who want to loot my cupboards because I was a Mormon once and have a weakness for food storage.  

My team was disassembled. 

The time has crept on since that awful Sunday, it's been 4 weeks, but it feels like 4 billion years.  Some days are harder than others. No idea why I'm fine on Tuesday, but Thursday I've got tears in my ears and gargling with Draino sounds like the best idea since sliced bread.

It has been extremely difficult and I've let a lot of things slip.  I hold myself together at work, because even an emotional puddle like me knows that would be REALLY BAD!!  But as soon as 6pm hits, it's as if I exhale and the emotional tornado hits me head on.  I race home, slam the door, lock the locks, and hide in my PJ's on the couch. 

Eating hasn't been my favorite either--except cake. 

I really love to eat cake and popcorn.  

oh and beer.Not wine, its giving me bigger headaches than usual.  And I tried the liquor way & well I was in the bathroom from 4am to 10am the next morning regretting that vodka solution.  

I'm sure if I googled those 3 items, a diet proven to work would pop up.  But, I'm guessing the way my jeans aren't zipping up, it's not the best way to go.

Let just say I'm out of whack. Not only emotionally, but physically.

All week I was sick, little by little I got worse and worse, till I finally had to stay home from work. 

As I was laying on the couch in a Ny-quil induced trip, midway through Ugly Betty season 3, waiting for the Hot & Sour Soup to be delivered, I called out UNCLE! 

This was NOT the way I was going to meet my demise. "I'm a kickboxing bad ass writer that has a wonderful job, great friends, and a hot as hell wardrobe. I'm not going to take this laying down!"

Well, I had to take it laying down because I was really fucking sick. BUT like the 3 legged dog, I knew I had to teach myself to walk again.  I mean the dog knows his leg isn't there, but after a while it's like it was never there. Life as he knows it goes on.  Fire hydrants, garbage smells, fence posts, the world again is his oyster. He doesn't whine about it or drink vodka from his dog dish. I had to learn to get back to my life.

Today I woke up feeling like a new woman. First off I could breath, not being filled with toxins was kind of awesome, and my voice didn't sound like I smoked a pack of menthol's.

This weekend I'm heading back to Muay Thai, I'm working on a writing project tossed aside "back in the day", and you know, I'm even going to start training for that half marathon I signed up for when I was drunk.   

So take that universe! I'm back and working on being better than ever. 

After a long exhale, we begin again

Life has been pretty giving to me in the last few months.  A turn in my career path, a turn I never knew existed found me.  I am a firm believer in work your tail off and things show up, sometimes later than you really want them to, but show up just the same.  Things don't exactly happen easy for me, in fact, I seem to find the hardest way to learn life lessons.  However, let me tell you, when things do work out---every tear, stress ache, and glass of Jameson that you knocked back during those harder times seem to melt away into the unmemorable past.
Sure there are things that I'm not completely awesome with in my life, I mean, if I loved everything that was going on---wouldn't it be a little well--un-life like?  All in all, life is not only nice, but going better than ever. Muay Thai is awesome, 3 of our girls are fighting--2 of them--for the first time on June 11th.  I am so excited to go to a fight where I am personally involved with the players.  Where my cheering comes from a place deep within, and well, I could go on and on.  
Moral of the story: these girls seriously kick ass.
So here's where I admit to my anxiety with sparring. Hi, I'm Rachel Faith and I see stars and birds every time that damn mouth guard comes close to my lips, there...I said it.  However, One can't exactly achieve a certain ones goal without overcoming one's fear of the pink, yes it's pink, mouthguard.
However, through the last few weeks, we've been putting the mouthpiece in during our weekly sessions, not just the Saturday sparring.  Would you believe this small change has moved mountains in my hyperventalaking department?  Things are slowly coming together like little lego's building a city, or a land, or well, my life.
As has the FIND ONE THING TO WORK ON AND FOCUS ON THAT: My 1 thing this month is taking the heavy nervous breathing down, it allows me to focus more on what I'm going to do, rather than my heart & mind racing.   I'm also finding that if I take a moment after the bell chimes in to watch my opponent, little ideas pop into my head. One of the gals taped the session yesterday, and sure, I look like I was well, in a coma. But hey, I'm just starting...give me a break, plus I got some good hits in there:)
Regardless, back in the saddle again is a good feeling and the other thing that I was missing was my writing outlet.
So here I am, trying to compile a lego life that I love to live, not just dream of.

Back in the Saddle again

Today felt good, today felt really good.  After a couple of cancellations, I ended up being the only student in Little Lauren's class.
and boy did she kick my ass.
God, i just love it.
The amazing thing about fighting is that its a team effort.  You are in charge of showing up, being strong, and keeping focused...but that's not enough.
You have your coaches who invest time, effort, and energy--for your personal success.
You have your teammates that you train with, spar with, and laugh with.
It's a circle, our coaches have their coaches, so on--so forth.
It's the ultimate pay it forward.
I always knew it, but I guess I just put it together tonight.
So, if I put that together after being part of this family for over a year and a half.
Then with continued training, practice, and sparring, perhaps the second nature will cast it's wonderful spell on me.
Here's hoping.....

That backpack at the bottom of my closet...

A few years ago my friend George came into town and we went out, as old friend do.  It was on a layover that I was teasing him about, he was flying from Utah to LA, to some middle American State to China then to Australia.  It was on miles...so it was free.
George will do anything when it comes to free stuff, especially travel.
His brother, who was just going to start college, was joining him in Australia, though he was taking a straight through flight.   An adventure if you will, before he started out on his own, with his big brother.
George is one of those people you want in your life because he's just real and he's just awesome.
clean and simple.
He was very excited to have this adventure with his younger brother and he asked if I could keep his other backpack, filled with who knows what, in my closet until he comes back to pick it up.
That trip was a trip of a lifetime because a couple of months later, he lost his brother.
He died in a fraternity hazing of alcohol poisoning.
George and his family have been through years of pain, legal bullshit, and trying to move on with a steady head and heart.
Tonight I had dinner with George.  He has done tons of traveling, thinking, and growing through these past years.  He brought a couple of friends and we all chatted, ate sushi like mad dogs, and talked about lives we have shed, currently have, and hope to have.  It's why you go out to dinner in the first place.
Tonight he also picked up his backpack.
It's been at the back of my closet for sometime now, he doesn't remember what's in it. But I do know that when I took it out of the back corners of my closet, it felt heavy--and emotional.
That's the saddest backpack I've ever picked up in my life but when I handed it to him, it was happy--ready to go--and back at home.
Neither of us knew what was in that backpack, but both of us knew it represented the final adventure he had with his kid brother, and perhaps before now it was too early to feel it--now it was safe to feel him..
and remember him.
and love him.
Cheers George, take care.

Better than before, but more work to be done

I'm sitting here, excuse me lying here on the couch, not exactly basking in today's sparring session...but not completely defeated.
Today I merely focused on blocking, however my nervousness to counter was still there.  Both girls that I sparred last week went easier on me.  It was perfect for today, as I was so nervous that I nearly puked on the mat.  The butterflies were building to such a high degree, that I had to pause to take a moment to tell myself that no matter what it was fine.
I guess it worked to a point, I wasn't aggressive, and in my mind I was going to counter when hit on the left -hook, cross, hook and on the right--cross, hook, cross.  But that didn't work out so well.  My hooks are hitting in a weird place when they land, everything needs to be brought up (reasons why you just keep going back).  Also, I realized that even with the mental "keep your hands up", it wasn't applying to the actual punching, I was punching lower and leaving my face completely open to any sort of counter from my partner.
This sparring business is a bit like a puzzle.  Drills that we have learned the past year and a half, are making a little more sense--though right now it's only by Roxy's coaching.  I guess it's easier to say that it's not second nature yet.
Instead of dodging out of the gym, I was able to smile--fat lip and all (it wouldn't be a true session without some sort of wound now would it?).
Remembering why I do this in the first place.