I’m being a brat.
I feel it. I know it. But I can’t seem to stop it.
It all started when my husband asked a favor of me the other day.
“I would like for you to do something for me. Commit to trying ten jiu jitsu classes. Only ten. If you try it and hate it, I’ll never mention it again. I’ll make you don’t get hurt and that you’re taken care of. Ten classes is enough for you to get some basic self defense skills that you’ll retain. Also, I want you to see why jiu jitsu is something that I love so much.”
Although I remained calm on the outside, inside I was kicking and screaming, “I don’t want to!” My reaction was strong. Stronger than my rational brain said it needed to be. After all, we’re talking about a commitment of about twenty hours, done according to my schedule and even though I’ve never really participated in martial arts, I’m comfortable with physical endeavors.
So why am I reacting so strongly?
I’ve spent the last couple days teasing apart the layers.
One of my first mental excuses had to do with time. In order to take a BJJ class on a weekend (all that will realistically fit into my schedule), I’ll have to skip a yoga class, shuffle grading papers to another time or give up a date with a friend. I found myself resenting my husband’s schedule, which allows for training (or lunch with friends) during the week and the fact that I do the weekly shopping and laundry opens up his weekends more so than mine.
But that’s not really the issue. I mean, I can resent his freedoms all I want, but it’s me that has been choosing to spend much of my ever-precious summer sitting at my computer more than sitting by the pool. It’s my fault that I get a “A” in adulting while I’m barely scraping by with a “C” in fun-having. And it’s my responsibility to speak up and directly and clearly ask for help when I need it instead of drowning while insisting that I am okay.
All of my drive comes from fear. Fear of being broke again. Fear of not being able to get things done before a deadline (even a self-imposed one). Fear of being seen as lazy or a taker. Fear of being abandoned again.
Fear of not being enough.
And this jiu jitsu thing has triggered that fear.
Not because I’m scared of the mat. But because I’m scared that if I add one more thing, I’ll lose it. I’ve been so close to breaking down this past school year, I’m afraid to push too hard, fearing fracture.
But this overwhelm has been lying to me. It loves to tell me about the lack of time, the dearth of emotional energy. Yet there is more space than I give myself credit for.
And maybe, trying something new – and learning that I can make the space for it – is exactly what I need.