Stepping past the line.

I remember in high school, during wrestling practice, we would routinely battle dehydration, and suffer 3 hour workouts in temperatures that sometimes exceeded 100 degrees.  For those of us who sucked weight, it was almost a death sentence more than once.  This is no exaggeration, as several young men did die the year after, and several more in the following years by doing the exact same idiotic things we did.

 During these practices, we would occasionally fall down, collapsed from heat exhaustion.  Our coach(es), would stand over us and usually yell something like, “you give one hundred percent while you are in this room, or you get the hell out of it!”  At that point we would drag our dangerously dehydrated bodies off the mat, and continue doing suicides, or whatever torture was on tap for that day.  One could argue that perhaps this approach was unreasonable, and excessive.  Perhaps it was.

But that was what was expected of us, and we gave it.  Most of us anyway.  Those of us with enough pride in ourselves to fight through, and “eat bitter”, and want to win.  This is what has been missing from my life as of late. 

I have forgotten how to suffer.  And by doing so, I have allowed people who do not deserve a place in my life, to have one, and furthermore, affect me enough to disrupt it. 

So, just like that room, my life requires one hundred percent.  You say you love me?  Ok, that requires one hundred percent.  If you are not willing, or able to give one hundred percent then the solution is very simple, get out of the room.  Wanting, or needing to be single, or divorced, is not one hundred percent.  Just like those coaches, and that team, deserved athletes who were only going to give their all, I deserve someones all too.  I will give my all, and that is what I should get in return.  This is not about petty anger, this is about self-respect.  I know I am good enough to get that, so to continue entertaining false proclamations is uncalled for.

I got so depressed yesterday, and considered throwing in the towel.  And then after a short conversation with Antonio at the babysitter I knew I could not.  He cried on the phone to me, and actually said, “I miss you so much daddy.”  He had never said anything like that to me before, for the first time, I felt like he really needed me.  I listened to him cry, and cried at my desk, telling him over and over that I would have a great weekend with him, and we would have lots of fun.  And he said over and over how much he missed me, and loved me.

That was suffering like I had never felt.  There is nothing that will ever hurt as much as knowing they need me, and not being able to be there for them.  Nothing, or no one.

This hurts more than I can accurately describe using words, all of it.  But like the song says, “one day I’ll wake up and it won’t hurt anymore.”  Or maybe I won’t wake up at all, either way, this has to end sometime.

Sites like myspace and facebook have become potential stroke risks, so in order to avoid brain hemmorage, I have decided to avoid them altogether.

Anyone who does actually read this will laugh and say, no, you can’t just not go on.  Or, you can’t just not talk to certain people,

I urge those concerned parties to remember, I have gone weeks without eating, and days without water.  While surrounded by food and drink, and even worse, people consuming food and drink.  I have ignored my own sense of self-preservation for the sake of sport.  I think I can safely stay off troublesome internet sites for a long while without suffering too much harm.

I have become soft, and yielding, and weak.  I despise myself for it.  Those who wish to hurt me, or toy with my emotions have another thing coming. 

I’m getting off the mat.

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