” How do you survive something like that? ”
That is the first question people ask me when I tell them of the tragedy that has befallen us.
I am humble and honest with my response ….
I write, I paint, I read, I travel, I teach, I dance, I love, I take pictures, I design, I shoot, I cook, I blast music, I pray, I star-gaze …. And I beat on a heavy bag with immeasurable rage, sometimes until I can’t lift my arms.
I’m getting nods of approval and looks of admiration and compassion, that is, up until the very last thing I said. The moment those words leave my lips, people look up at me puzzled; astonished. Then, with understanding.
” It hurts worse than anything you could ever imagine, it makes you want to die, makes you determined to live, and since I can’t get tattoos every day to relieve the pain, I have to unleash all the madness, the pressure, the weight of being trapped under extreme duress, somehow.
I slugggg on the heavy bag with all my sadness, all my emptiness, all my fears, all my hate, all my heart, all my love …. I just punch and punch and punch. It is a manic-type of therapy.
On this particular occasion, my cousin and I were in the garage, and we just started hitting the bag together.
He hit it twice to me, I hit it twice to him, and back and forth we went.
My fists were wrapped, and it was only about fifteen minutes that we were slamming the bag around, but I did end up with two new scars on my right hand as a result of it. This photo was taken immediately after I unwrapped my hand, and it got worse as the days went on. My knuckles bruised and it took weeks to heal.
Funny how it didn’t hurt at all, it actually felt exhilarating to get some of ” it ” out.
This is a rare insider’s point-of-view into how heartbreak manifests.
It breaks open, bleeds, and leaves a scar so that even when you want to forget it, you can’t ….
* Photo Credit : Antonio V. * ~ * Slugggfest Credit : Bryan S. *