You know the scene. We all know the scene.
The thing is, though, in my immediate family, this isn't just a scene. This is a gift from our God. The principle of the Divine Ouiser is a firmly held belief. In times of great grief or uncertainty or anxiety, God gives us something to "hit" even if it isn't really a physical hit. Jerks come out of nowhere and give us something to focus our anger toward.
We first became aware of Divine Ouiser after my sister, while 7 months pregnant, lost her 3 year old son suddenly. Crazy with grief and despair and awash in hormones, she and my brother in law were in their own hell. At the time, Mazda Miatas (the little convertible cars) were new and hot, and my sister was driving to our parents' house with the top down. A man in another car thought she was cute (he couldn't see the very pregnant belly) and began harassing her on the road (because that is how one wins affection?). What he didn't know was that my brother in law was following my sister in a separate car. Eventually, my sister pulled over, and so did the man that was harassing her. And so did my brother in law. The guy said something smart to my brother in law, and my brother in law broke his coffee mug. On the harasser's face.
My brother in law needed to hit something. God provided. My sister needed a distraction from her grief and the odd combination of new love, hope and dread that she would deliver in two months. God provided.
I have often wondered if this harasser even existed before or after that event. I like to believe that he didn't, that this time the angel's job was just to take it on the chin from a grieving father who, with his wife was two months away from being forced to present his heart again for the breaking.
When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, our Ouiser was the hospitalist that diagnosed her in the most unprofessional way. He was the object of a great deal of negative emotion. He was our metaphoric punching bag. He gave us something to "hit".
This time, with dad's passing, I have a new Ouiser. This Ouiser is almost physically begging me to hate her. And I do, but it isn't enough. It isn't enough this time to focus anger. The hurt is too deep. I am almost incapable of addressing the emotions that I am barely containing on a daily basis for fear of not being able to get it under control again. I'm afraid of saying things I don't really mean. I'm afraid of saying things I really do mean.
I am working very hard to not take out on innocent bystanders, but this time, focused anger hasn't been the key. This time, I have needed to physically hit something.
Enter Krav Maga.
According to the expert on everything (Wikipedia), Krav Maga is is a self-defence system developed for the military in Israel that consists of a wide combination of techniques sourced from boxing, savate, Muay Thai, Wing Chun, Judo, Jujutsu, wrestling, and grappling, along with realistic fight training. Krav Maga is known for its focus on real-world situations and extremely efficient and brutal counter-attacks.
What it means to me, is I get to HIT SOMETHING! I get to HIT IT HARD!
After the first punch (connecting with a pad held by a stranger), I felt a bit foolish. By the third punch, I had the hang of it, and by the end of the first series of hammer hits, my sparring partner's face said it all. She didn't say it out loud, but her wide, slightly frightened eyes communicated clearly... "Girl, you've got issues". I just looked at her and smiled and said, "I've got some stress". And that was it. And that was all that needed to be said. Her own shy, sad eyes spoke to me of a trampled soul, and I'm not in a place of tolerating trampled souls at present. When it was her turn to punch and mine to hold the pad for her to connect, you'd better believe I was talking to her - "You can do better than that - HIT IT! I can TAKE IT! HIT HARDER! TAKE IT OUT ON ME! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HURT ME - HIT IT!" And she did. And maybe I imagined it, but I'm pretty sure that we both got what we needed, and what we needed was to HIT SOMETHING. HARD.
At the end of class, with the philosophy that anyone can throw a good punch when they're fresh, but endurance is the key - throwing a good punch when you're exhausted is what will win the battle - the class is instructed to grab a pad, and get on the floor with it. When the instructor gives the signal, we are to just rain punches down on this bag - punches of our choice, as hard and fast and correctly as we can for an unknown to us period of time. It isn't a LONG period of time - maybe 3 minutes or so in reality, but it is enough to bring exhaustion. Long enough to HIT SOMETHING. HARD. Until my arms scream in protest.
I can't imagine that any therapy session could be more effective. All that was missing, as I sat there, exhausted, arms like Jell-O, fully drained and laughing at myself and the amount of emotion that had just flowed through me, was the stereotypical collapsing into sobs (which I really, really, really wanted to do).
Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.
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