Technical Knock-Out

It'll be no surprise to the avid and dilligent reader (that's you Beverly. You're the best!), that I've been attended a psychologist or, in laymen's terms: a shrink. Yeah. That's right. I'm a nutcase. In reality I'm not. Not in the sense of a guy who's totally off his rocker and wants to marry horses and blow up other planets. Horses are nice and all, but having one around the house would be more trouble than it's worth. And blowing up planets, while certainly good for a festive night sky display, would probably cost a lot, and it'd be over in a few minutes. Also, there's there chance of it affecting earth's cycle, somehow, effectively destroying life as we know it. So, that's not what I'm up to. No, I'm merely a guy who's battling a hardass case of social anxiety, or, in laymen's terms: being scared at the concept of socializing heavily with other people. It sums up nicely to the simple fear of being different or afraid, around other people. Scared to be scared. There's a mindtwister, huh? No? No not really. It's pretty common. Think of it as if you're really shy in a situation. Then multiply it with X and apply it to 95% of the situations you live through in your daily life.

Ye, it's pretty friggin rough goings. I basically have a load of little mechanisms that keep me out of harms way (harm from my own thoughts, wouldn't you know it), that are applied most of the time, so I can live a normal life without the marrying horse and blowing up planets deal. But it doesn't always work, and sometimes I'm in situations where I'm just not able to compensate. So I see a shrink in order to try and get around those roadblocks, and free my mind (yeah, matrix style). Free my mind from the bonds it has put on itself. My shrink wanted me to kill two or more birds with the infamous one stone. Not literally kill birds. Figuratively, you know. It's an old proverb. That doesn't matter. You can study semantics in your own time, I'm trying to tell a story here. She wanted me to deal with a few issues in one fell swoop of my mighty brainhammer. The issues were: would like excercise, would like to get out aggresions and finally, the most important, get out and about, where there are people. So, something I came up with myself, I'd like to start boxing. Something I've been meaning to give a shot for ages. Not like Mike Tyson box, but you know.. box for the fun of it. Just do something with my body, and hit sandbags as well. And if I happened to make a friend or two, well... that wouldn't hurt, I suppose. It's called exposure, folks. And it's meant to expose me to scary situations again and again, in an increasing degree, so I will eventually be so used to them, that I won't have to apply the aforementioned mechanisms.

So I found a boxing club near me, and she called and set things up (calling places is my number 1 pet peeve, and, as she said (my shrink), the phone issue isn't the one we're dealing with here, so she'd do that for me. She called, and ensured me that they were starting on Jan 5th, and that I could just show up and give it a shot. Fine. Christmas came and went, New Years came and went. The weeks from my last session before Christmas, til just after New Years were kind of rough going. I was off work, but there was a lot of shit going on, and it took it's toll on my mental toughness. When the 5th rolled around, I was basically scared shitless. And even though I had packed my gear and was ready to head off, I just couldn't get myself to get. I had work the previous night, and work again that same night, which meant I'd probably be totally busted for work after boxing. Besides that, I just... I couldn't make myself get out the door and go some place foreign with people I didn't know, by myself. Just couldn't. So I told myself, that I'd go the following Thursday (practice is every Tuesday and Thursday). I was working on the Wednesday, and totally bombed out, so I didn't wake up before it was too late to go.

Now, I know some will be thinking "sure, that's a fine excuse". And I would agree with you. It was perfect for me. Made my life a helluva lot easier. Only one small problem: I know what's good for me, and what's not good. Going boxing would be good, if for nothing else, then to tell myself I at least went and had a look. Not going would mean a bad conscience, when I knew I was supposed to. Not for my shrink (even though we all know that was one of the primary reasons I'd be going at all), but for myself. I felt bad about it, but not bad enough for me to go anyway. The following weeks I didn't even try going. Just sort of ignored it. Not cool, but... it's a habit of mine. Ignore the bothering things until they go away.

So, time for shrinks appointment. I knew I was in for an asswhooping. She asked straight away, and while I had considered just telling her what she wanted to hear (that I went and it was awesome), I opted for the truth. I didn't go. Just couldn't. I felt the tension rise, and I had the hardest time meeting her gaze. And boy, did she gaze. Felt her eyes on me at all times. I was nervous and tense, and wanted to get up and leave, and never come back. But I stayed. I know she probably wasn't, in the sense I'm thinking of, but I still say I kind of felt her disappointment. She had wanted me to go. You know. Because she wants me to get better. Annoying as hell. And there I was, not going. Not going at all. I got a small lecture about this and that and blah blah. I hate lectures. I hate being lectured on what I need to do and need not to do. How I should do this and that. It really gets to me. But I kept my mouth shut, and sat through it.

Eventually she asked me now what? Would I go? I should go. Needed to go. It was important. My appointment was on a tuesday, so, she suggested, I could go that very night. I did not like that proposition. First of all, I had just been working the night before. I was off at 7, and had an appointment with her at 9:30. So I was pretty fucking tired at that time. The thought of going home to sleep, only to wake up and have to go boxing did not sit well with my state of mind at all. But she pushed me, because she felt that if I knew I should go, why not just go. Get it over with. See what it feels like. I compromised, and promised I'd go Thursday (today). I know she didn't quite approve of thursday, but she also sensed I wasn't ready to go with her tuesday idea. So she digressed. I left her office in a hurry.

Thursday rolled around, and thankfully I was off work wednesday and thursday alike, so I didn't have that bothering me, when preparing mentally for the boxing session at night. It would be a lot harder going now, since the team had already been practicing for 5 sessions or something. I feared I'd be the new guy who knew nothing, when everybody else knew each other and I'd feel outside and excluded and by myself etc. All those weird thoughts that shouldn't matter at all. More than once during the day, I thought about not going. But facing my shrink again, telling her that I didn't go was more than I'd be able to take. So I went. I went, with a bad feeling inside. But I went.

Made it to the gym in ok time, got changed, and asked the clerk where the boxing training facility was. Of course, before I could get to her... or him, I couldn't tell, I had to wait for a drunk swedish/greenlandish janitor dude to shut the fuck up. He was talking to the clerk about lord knows what. I don't think he even knew, himself. The clerk clearly just humored the janitor to get him to move along. Finally, he did. I was informed of the location, and went on my way, finding it with no problems.

The fight team was just finishing up, and the excercise team was getting ready. I didn't have a clue what I should do at this time. I put my bag in a corner, and looked around. Everybody seemed to be busy doing something or other, if nothing else, then just walking around. And still it felt like they were sneaking peaks at me at every given chance (paranoia). I finally made eye contact with an old guy. One I assumed was the guy running the club. My assumption turned out to be right. I approached him, asking about membership and trial runs etc. Thankfully I didn't have to repeat myself. He was elderly, but not that old. Spoke with an accent of some sort, but I couldn't quite place it. I went ahead with him, and signed my name, and paid the cash for the first trial hour. He asked me my age, and, when told, suggested I start out on the proper boxing fight team straight away. "Can always use a guy like you. Just what we're looking for". I declined. He had no idea how little I'd want to do that.

Back in the gym, I was again sort of stranded. I made eye contact with another guy, who, apparently, was the coach. He indicated that I should just fall in with the rest of the gang, who were running laps. I complied. The gang consisted of about 12 others, of various sizes and shapes. Mostly they seemed pretty fit. Something, I was soon to realize, I was far from. Running laps, while doing all kinds of movements and leaps and skips was hard enough. Not only physical, but I felt awkward doing it. Felt like everybody was still staring at me. Not sweet. Finally, we were distributed around the room, and did all kinds of warm up moves. I felt thirsty as hell, and my mouth was so dry, my tongue stuck to the inside of my cheeks. I had forgotten a water bottle, of course. But I was only 10 minutes in, and already totally dried up. I had to go on.

We went out, two and two, for the next part. Always rough goings, the two and two switcharoo. I opted for my usual routine. Just stand firm and hope somebody offers to be your partner. It's a gamble, seeing as if nobody offers it, you're left out as the last turkey in the shop. And that's the gym social faux pas over them all. Being the last guy without a partner. Thankfully a dude asked if we should team up. I agreed. What were we going to do? Sit ups and pushups and all kinds of ups. At this point, I was starting to really feel the need to NOT be doing these things. I was feeling queasy from the physical aspect, and my stomach was churning from the mental aspect. Not a good combination.

Now keep in mind, it's been quite a while since I've last used my body actively. Too long, in fact. And this boxing thing was probably starting out, shooting too high. I needed to get away from it. Couldn't bear a moment more. We were done with the pairing thing, luckily. People got up, and grabbed their own skipping ropes. Their own. That they had brought from home. I did not have a jump rope. Nor, had I had one, would I have had the energy to use it. This was the last drop. I went to the dressing room, and got into the lavatory, locked the door, and just vomited violently (into the toilet, mind you). I sat down on the floor, and did my best to fight off the massive head ache that was urging it's way forward. My arms and legs were shaking hard, and it felt as if I couldn't support my own head. I wasn't about to pass out as such, but I just felt exceptionally tired, and my eyes sort of forced moments of apparent sleep on me. Like when you're nodding off, while sitting. I thanked whatever benevolent deity watches over toilets, that it was really clean and nice. No smell or anything.

I was on the floor, trying to compose myself. I didn't feel able to get up on my feet, so I stayed on the floor. My head was spinning slightly, and I kept my eyes closed to ward off the flurescent light. I did not have on my watch, so I had no idea how much time was passing. I sensed people coming and going through the dressing room outside the door I was behind, but it meant nothing to me. As I started getting my body under control again, I began freaking out over the situation I was in. I had been gone for a good chunk of time. How the hell was I supposed to return to group and just join in now. What wouldn't they all think? Guy comes in, does some stuff, leaves, is gone for 30 minutes, then come back, and just fall back in? Welcome to Weird Town, Population: You. No, that wouldn't do. I would not be able to face that situation. Not by a longshot. But alas, my things were in there. In that room. And I didn't see any other way out but through that room. What the hell was I to do? What could I do? There was only one thing to do...

I stayed. Stayed in the little 1x2 meter room, with a sink and a toilet. Not even a mirror. I stayed there. Stood around, and let my mind wander. As I said, I did not have my watch on, and as such, I had no idea how much time was passing by. I kept hearing people in and out of the changing room, talking about this and that. Only once did somebody grab the handle to the toilet, only to find it locked. On the outside I remained calm, but on the inside, my mind was racing little a formula 1 car. Cursing myself, cursing the situation, cursing everybody and his/her uncle. And most of all, furiously looking for a solution to the problem, that wouldn't cause me serious mental harm. I stayed. Until I hadn't heard anything in the longest time. Then I went outside, slowly. Acted calm, while my senses were alert. I found that the changing room had two doors. One leading into the gym room, and one leading... where? I didn't know. But I dared not try the other door, so I snuck the second one open, and found it led out to the hallway.

Quickly I sped out. Somewhat free, at last. But not quite. I still had on sweatpants and a tshirt. And it was soaked with sweat. Starting to cool down, and become more unpleasant. I walked around the hallways, trying to look casual. Got into the main hall of the gym, where people were playing badmington, basketball, tennis and indoor football. Also, the big hall had a clock. I studied it. A brief calculation showed me, that I had remained in the confines of that small bathroom for 2 full hours, Even I was surprised at that. Two hours of just standing around doing nothing but avoid something. I amaze myself sometimes.

I also found the door leading into the boxing room, and it was closed. I seemed to remember it being open when I arrived, and during the 30 minutes of boxing warm up I actually did manage to overcome. I dared not grab the handle to see if it was locked, so I walked back into the changing room, and went to the second door. It was 20 minutes after the training session should've ended, but I didn't know if everybody had left, or somebody was hanging back. I finally gathered enough courage to open the door slightly, ready to bail at the sign of movement. It was pitch black in there. I sighed. At least I could get my stuff without having to get androgynous clerk for assistance with keys and whatnot. I changed quickly, and get the fuck outta dodge. Scared I'd run into somebody who'd recognize me from my 30 minutes of boxing glory, I exited the building as fast as Elvis would enter a McDonald's, had he still been alive.

My body was aching, and the cool air did me really good. I rushed home, in the safety of my own apartment, and felt relaxed again. At least I can say I went. I might not have had the best time. Or a good time. Or even a passable time. I had a pretty shitty time, but I went. I went and had a look. And I will be able to tell my shrink that, along with selected passages from the above text. I'm sure she'll try and convince me to go again. I don't know if I will be able to. Feel pretty scared from today (mentally). I really just don't want to have to go through anything like it again. So I've devised another plan, with which I might throw her off. I've decided to join a homeless shelter as a volunteer. It's something I've toyed with for years (one of the many projects I have, that just never gets done), and I've a friend who's doing it already. It'd take care of the social aspect, which is the most important, according to my treatment. Also, I'd get out of the house. I've got other plans, when it comes to excercise, which I hope I might be able to carry out. First and foremost, I guess I'll have to acquire a bicycle. So I can ride that to and from work and other places. It's an idea anyway. Oh well, that's another bedtime story.

If you've made it this far through my tale, I just want to take a moment to tell you, that this sentence, along with the following sentence, has been brought to you by Quakers - A breakfast serial even your doctor can't deny! Good luck, and god bless!