Wanting to write but not knowing exactly what to write is a haunting feeling. I want to talk about so much but I'm learning to keep things to my self at the same time. Not doing well with that. I want to tell you that the last 2 months of my life have been utterly depressing. Not the adjective, the disease. I want to tell you that I've been through so many things in just a matter of weeks that involve love, devastating loss, jealousy, failure, despair, fear and hope. But I can't tell you those things because they belong to me or something.

I believe things have come full circle. That I needed to go through these things in order for other opportunities to arise. Back in July I went to a tournament that boasted to have 7 other purple belts participating in a gi superfight. I signed on after much consideration after realizing that this whole fight everyone win or lose strategy would be a great way to test my skills against the purple belt division. Once I arrived, I realized it wasn't in a venue like the last competition they held, but in their warehouse gym with no A/C. I looked around and realized there were only three other girls. In actuality, I wasn't feeling too good and the heat was nauseating so I wasn't pissed about only having three fights. Finally when it came our time to go, I had my first match with a heavyweight. I managed to fend her off and get a sweep into mount earning me the win. Right after that, I went against a girl I had fought twice before. I pulled guard, swept, ended up in closed guard, got swept and she landed in mount where I defended an americana for the rest of the match. The third match was against a really strong tough girl. She passed my guard but instead of going into mount, which would have been less painful for me, she decided to go to knee on belly. Twenty times. I'd hip out and push her knee off, then she'd take the other one and slam it down into my solar plexus. This lasted for about 5 minutes. Glorious. The following week it hurt to walk I was so sore and I had a scab under my chin from the gnarly shoulder pressure I received. It was a horrifying day.

My training suffered thereafter despite my will to get better. With such a crippling experience in my first purple belt matches, I knew I had to get back into training hard. Too bad I was letting every little thing get in the way of that. I have little money because I haven't been able to get a job since I dropped out of life for Pan Ams and Worlds training. I've never had too much of an issue getting an admin position through craigslist but these days my resume seems to be diminishing into thin air. The drive to the academy takes up $50 bucks a week in gas if I'm driving every day. Knowing I had a small stipend to live off of for who knows how long prevented me from driving to the academy as much as I was before. If people flaked for conditioning I freaked and left thinking I'd be spending my time better elsewhere, like on my zine or my venture site into internet marketing. When I intended to drill but didn't make the plans beforehand or grew the balls to butt into someone else's session, I sat on the couch instead so I could be bitter about lacking the ability to drill. When I felt any ounce of anxiety at any point during training, I excused myself with no real reason and left. Sometimes I'd feel it before we even started drilling the first technique and other times I'd make it until it was time to roll. It always consisted of walking over to Cobrinha, telling him I had to go, being completely honest and leaving. "You have to go?," he says.  Since he knows I didn't have much on my agenda it's no wonder he questioned it. "Where are you going?," he'd ask. "I don't know" coupled with a blank stare would do the trick and he'd let me leave. Sometimes I think I wished he'd tell me that I needed to stay no matter what I was feeling. Even if it meant bursting out in tears on the mat because my eyes were attached to a time bomb and whether I made it to the bathroom in time didn't matter. I just wanted to cry.

Eventually I just stopped coming as often. I'd trade training for a day of sitting at home watching the olympics. Whatever I needed to do, I would do because it felt like some sort of healing process. If being excruciating lonely and pushing people away at all cost was any way of healing, I can't say. It might have worked and it might have buried myself deeper. Looking back on what I had when I was training for Worlds, when I placed second (although a devastating moment when I lost the finals), when I received my purple belt a week later and when I visited for an amazing trip in Maryland/DC/Virginia, that was the last of my routine life. Once I returned, I didn't have my conditioning at 9am 3 times a week. I didn't have my gi classes every night because we went back to nogi classes. I didn't have my teammates showing up early every day to train late with the shared focus and determination of accomplishing something great. I didn't have all the visitors to spend time with like Malfa, Tanner, Thomas Lisboa, Simone, Monique, Mario, Mayra, Gabi and others. Coming home after a great weekend left me not only lost but missing things. Missing what I thought I gained in DC and quickly realizing it wasn't long term. Missing what I had before I left in terms of training and a bond with my training partners. My plans of quickly getting a part time job to assist my plane ride back to DC a month after were slowly becoming less and less realistic. And my hopes in anything, really, were being crushed over and over again due to my crippling depression. There's a quote I found that reads: "That's how depression hits. One day you wake up and you're afraid you're gonna live."

Dealing with failures, with change, with loss. Those are all reasons to be sad. You know, the kind of sad where you cry a bit, eat some ice cream and continue on your way. Where you make some changes and get back on your feet. Due to my stupid brain, I couldn't get back up. I'd have days where I'd be progressive. I made some little pockets of money here and there. Built a couple websites. Ventured into internet marketing. Tried regaining a friendship. But they all were either shut down and/or merely refused to last.

I talk in past tense like this was a thing of the past. It's not. This is the first day that I'm going to bed feeling like I did a bunch of good stuff without trying. I just had a somewhat regular day with some good news sprinkled here and there, and I'm not hoping to go to sleep and never wake up.. I believe this is the turning point but I don't want to jinx it. I'm not making any major plans and I don't rush this transformation period. I can't leave it until I'm convinced I learned enough from it. That I'll improve my life and my mindset. But I want others to know that my intentions for revealing these issues are not for forgiveness or to be able to brush it off. These aren't excuses for my behavior but I can really only hope that the people I consider friends are lax about it. I am trying to get over this mega hump in my way and the only purpose of posting about it is to be sure I am documenting every part of my journey. I do intend to build my legacy no matter how many valleys and mountains I have to overcome. Or how many days I have to drag myself out of bed. It will all be worth it.