This will not be the first hormone fueled BJJ rant on this blog, and for that I am sorry, but alas... I am who I am, therefor I blog about it.
Every so often my hormones and I have a a major disagreement. My hormones want me to act out irrationally, cry, and generally be a party pooper, and I want to continue fooling people into believing that I am a sane rational adult.... It is a very fine line to walk, and sadly, I walk it like a sloppy drunk every once in a while.
On top of that, the general time in which my hormones rally in numbers and threaten collapse in on me like a dying star, my anemia gets worse. I get more tired, and crabby than normal... and you know hormones.. anemia.. dying star... not a great combination.
Most of the time Jiu-jitsu helps me to work out my frustrations, thus I am able to continue life without making the 11:00 news.
Sometimes however, the stars align just right... anemia, epic hormones, and jiu-jitsu frustrations happen all at the same time.
This is one of those unfortunate times.
There is a competition coming up soon, and when we have competitions nearing, Fabio has us work takedowns more than normal. I've said it before, and I will say it again, I suck at a takedowns. Monday night he had us work one I just could not do. The more I tried the less it worked, and I tried until I got to the point where tears were becoming a possibility. So, I stopped. I've cried twice in class, and I there is pretty much nothing I hate more than crying in my gi in a room full of men.
Tuesday, I was not as lucky.
One of my teammates is a 238 pound professional MMA fighter. I grappled him for the first time Tuesday. No gi. He was also in class post-massage, so he was literally oiled up and completely slippery. I could not have held on to his elbow if my life depended on it... and thanks to my hormones, and frustration I was grappling like an epic spaz who's life did actually depend on the outcome of that grapple.
I managed to defend myself the duration of the grapple, but generally felt completely disgusted with my lack of ability to do anything other than lay on the mat in the fetal position praying for death.
Logically, my brain tells me that I am not expected to be able to fight off and subdue a 238 pound professional fighter covered in baby oil, but my hormones tell me I should slump myself in to a ball of self hatred in the corner and weep whilst trying to hide my entire body inside my gi top.
My hormones won.
Which of course resulted in more self loathing for crying at the gym, and... you see where I am going with this.. Vicious cycle my grappling hating ovaries forces me to go through whenever they rally together and find the strength to over power the logical side of my brain.
(Which less face it, isn't that hard to do.)
I did not have class today though, so I was able to give my mind, hormones and body the rest they very much needed.
Before next class I am going to give my brain an epic end of the world movie speech. Perhaps I will watch Lord of The Rings for some epic speech ideas. Though, if I am honest with myself I'll probably just cry into my bag of Doritos at the opening hobbit scene in this sad state of emotional distress.
Maybe I will just kick myself in the face, and yell "This is Sparta!"
This. Exactly this.