Monthly Archives: February 2017

Part Five of My Non Fiction

At this point of my story, I need to beg my reader’s forgiveness. You see, at this point of my life I met two men, two men whose presence in it was the catalyst that changed me from a terrified, abused woman who truly, deeply believed no one needed her, that her life was completely worthless into the person I am today. I can’t tell this story without them being a part of it because they aren’t supporting roles. They’re main characters I owe my life to.

So what’s the problem you ask?

The problem is that years ago I promised I would never put them in a book. They knew who they were dealing with. They covered their tracks well.

So bear with me as I try to keep my promise to them.

Kickboxing practice at Hard Drive was my therapy. I loved every second I was there and I loved my ever growing band of teammates. However, I only talked to them during class. When class was over I packed my bag and went home. 

New people and crowds frightened me to the point of anxiety attacks. I never knew who knew my ex. I never knew when he would show up. I spent years thinking my feelings were lost love. It took two decades to realize it was pure terror. He had control on me still and I couldn’t shake it. I was in prison and I figured death was the only way to freedom.

Keoni suggested several times to our class to take advantage of the open gyms Hard Drive offered. It took awhile for me to catch on but finally I started going. It was alone time for me to gather my thoughts. The gym was my peaceful sanctuary. When I was there I kept to myself reviewing drills I had learned that week.

One Friday night I wasn’t alone. There were two guys with me doing jiu jitsu together. I struck the bag for several moments then took a step back to catch my breath. 

Suddenly one man busted out laughing and shouted, “she heard you!”

I frowned, looked at them and asked “heard what?”

Supposedly one had told the other to “mount him”, a perfectly innocent request for jiu jitsu but something that could be wildly misunderstood outside gym doors.

I laughed.

They laughed.

And a friendship was born.