December 13, 2012 by cieramilo
So, this post has little if anything to do with boxing. Just so ya know.
I moved into my own place last night. In a cold drizzle and soggy sweats (because I just left the gym no so much the rain), I toted (which is a southern way of saying “I carried it y’all”) all my clothes, some towels, a futon mattress, and some lamps – essentially all I could fit in my car and live on for a few days – up three flights of stairs into a tiny, one bedroom, fake-granite countertop apartment. I love my little place. Even though I am living on frozen dinners eaten with chopsticks I lifted from the Japanese Express, I don’t have a shower curtain yet(showers are hard without a curtain….seriously), and there is a serious Palmetto bug problem….the place is mine.
I have been living in people’s guest bedrooms for the past 7 months (since May 28th). The experience of being in flux for so long, with so many questions, has taken its toll on me, I have to be honest. There was an internship, then there wasn’t, there was another internship then there wasn’t. Repeat the process for a job. And an apartment. Ugh. Rejection has been the name of the game for 2012 and I am so ready for some YES!!! and something that was MINE!!!
Which probably has a lot to do with why boxing has gotten so under my skin. There is a lot of rejection in combat sports. You get hit….a lot. You lose a fight. You can’t find a fight. Your state tells you you can’t fight. Etc etc etc. Then the hardship of training is its own humbling process. [Like yesterday, Hugo handed my ass back to me when we sparred. I seriously almost cried. More so from the frustration of IT ALL than because he hurt me…though he did get me one good time. (and aside from the aside: sparring with someone much much better than you but who has a heart to teach you is a really great experience. you do the metaphorical math.)] And training as a girl in a gym predominantly filled with guys is its own unique challenge. Putting your everything in every day and not always getting “a win” is hard and takes some serious commitment, but ……… it’s mine. This whole experience is mine.
Don’t get all gooey-eyed thinking this is some coming-of-age shit. There is no “of-age”. You don’t arrive after the climax of the movie and the great life lesson and say, “Yep, I’m done.” There are a million of those moments. But something about this apartment. It’s stupid, really. But I am so enamored with the idea of having my own place, my sweet spot, where I make the rules and it’s my kitchen aid mixer there on the counter (oh and it’s such a beautiful piece of kitchen appliance!).
It’s also kind of funny (and I’m sure I’ll try to find the symbolism in it) that the folks helping me tote the rest of my stuff up three flights of stairs on Saturday, are the ones usually punching me in the face 3+ days out of the week. They’re sweet guys. Haha!