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*breathes* Right. I have been ... approaching the idea of taking up some form of martial arts recently, on the advice of someone close to me. But I have, for a variety of personal and possibly triggery reasons, some problems with the idea. Um. I'm going to explain below, and if any of you have any experience in the matter, may you could give me some advice?
On Martial Arts, Anger, and Control
My mother and I have been having a number of conversations recently, wherein she has been attempting to persuade me to take up martial arts, for a number of reasons including expanded social contact, physical activity, and a degree of personal control that she strongly associates with her own experiences of judo, among other things. All of which reasons I agree with, and consider valid. However, I have ... a number of issues and associations tied to martial arts that make such a prospect ... problematic for me.
First. My understanding of martial arts is that they are focused on a trine: mind, body, and spirit/emotions. The aim of most martial arts, as I understand them, is to create a unity between those three that will, in times of need, enable action.
That, I approve of, and desire, most desperately. But I fear ... oh, so many things. That may ... make me incapable. Or inadvisable. I'm not sure. Let me explain.
Mind, body, spirit. The first two are elemental. The third ... anathema.
I have complete faith in my body. I always have. It does what I ask of it within its physical limitations, as soon as I ask it. That has always been the case. I have never been unable to learn or perform a physical movement once I understand the concept and purpose of it (or the physics of it), and have practiced enough to allow my body time to learn it (excepting in issues of balance, but I'm not quite sure what's happening there, so we'll leave that for a moment). I have always enjoyed a degree of control over my body that has allowed me to do such things as climb, run, ski and swim with reasonable ease and confidence. I was always, as a child, considered physically fearless, doing such things as climbing trees, cliffs and roofs without much qualm, or swimming in say an Atlantic storm, and later continued that trend with things like skiing (which has a very particular satisfaction). It's not that my movements are flawless, or that I do not fall, or that I do not make mistakes. It's that I am aware, always, of what my body might reasonably be expected to accomplish, and the circumstances that would allow it to do so. So long as I am confident I am within those parameters, there is no reason to allow fear to prevent me from acting.
I was also always the least injured of all my cousins/siblings, despite being as physically active and daring as them. Again, I put that down to the sense of physical control I have always had within my body. I trust my body to react as it needs to react.
I am afraid of pain, of course, of being hurt, sometimes to terrorising degrees, but the point of control in physical endeavours is to minimise the potential for damaging circumstances. With care, that is possible in a startling range of activities. Once due precautions are taken, and due awareness is paid, there has never been much reason for me to fear attempting something physical. Make sure to avoid or be cautious in situations beyond your body's limits, and make sure to maintain a line to physical safety at all times, and you should be fine.
I also have always had a degree of instantaneous and instinctive connection between mind and body. I learned to turn on the ski-slope, on my second day of trying, by understanding the relationship of weight and motion as the creation of a lever (downhill leg the fulcrum, uphill leg the arm of the lever moving you into turn). Once a thing makes mental sense to me, and is within my body's physical capabilities, it is doable. My body is a direct extension of my will, and may be trusted to act as such. Provided, of course, that my mind and will are on the ball and not, for example, frozen in blind terror -_-;
The problem, then, is with the third leg of the trine. The problem is with my emotions, and the degree to which I outright distrust and even fear them.
I am ... afraid to couple that physical extension of will with an emotional response to danger. I trust my body to do whatever I need it to do. I do not trust myself to know, particularly in violent situations, what I need it to do.
I ... fear anger. Even, perhaps especially, my own. I fear it to the degree of physical nausea in response (you can see why I'm no good at arguing, then). I also, for a variety of reasons, have the concepts of anger and violence intrinsically linked in my head, such that one will automatically evoke the specter of the other.
The both concepts are then also linked to another, equally terrifying one. The loss of control. Once anger is part of the equation, I have an instant sensation of the situation spiralling out of control, of possibilities multiplying exponentially, and all of them negative. There is a sensation of irreversable damage, to any target of anger, myself or others. There is a blind terror of causing it. There is a fundamental blind aversion to the concept of violence, to the thought of doing something irreversible to someone else.
Understand. It is not that I do not believe myself capable of violence. I know I would be, at least physically, if I learned enough of the motions. I know I am capable of violence. I am afraid, that to couple physical mastery to an emotional response would ... do things I cannot take back.
Now. Now. I know, I fully understand, that that is not the aim of martial arts. It is, in fact, the complete opposite of the aim of martial arts. The aim of a martial art is to gain enough control of yourself to be able to act appropriately in whatever situation emerges. I want that. I really, really do.
But I am afraid of the degree of linkage between the concepts of violence and anger in my head. Though the intent of martial arts is the opposite, the form is a violent one. I am afraid of the reactions that might be evoked by that. Especially in situations of genuine danger and violence. In other words, in an emotional situation.
I ... have been physically threatened before. I have been the break for someone else's anger. I have ... I have ... I have had it pointed out to me, with deliberation, that my physical abilities are no match for someone and, as such, nothing I could do would stop him if he decided to do something (Jesus fuck, I keep being surprised by how afraid I still am of him). I ... learned very quickly that ineffective anger on my part only invited more capable people to enact their own. Once I get angry, I cannot think. I lose control. I become ineffective. I become vulnerable. Therefore I learned to ... swallow anger. Let it be fear, let it be terror, let it be disgust, let it be shame. Let it be anything except a provocation. Let it be anything, so long as it does not show. So long as it is not enacted.
I am afraid that, in light of how long that lesson has been learned to me, how little I understand my own anger, how much I fear it, that to learn to create effective anger would be ... dangerous. That I would enact something I cannot control, except this time the damage would be to someone else. I am afraid, given the degree to which my body is an extension of my will, that to learn a physical form that allows the expression of anger would ... Not cause. Allow me, while my capacity for thought is compromised, to use it.
When I am angry, I freeze. It looks much the same as when I'm afraid. Largely because the two often come together. Fear causes anger, anger causes terror and revulsion. I freeze, to prevent loss of control. Let them do what they like. Physical damage (though that has, in fact, been rare enough) is a more acceptable consequence than an action I am responsible for, and cannot undo. I have ... lashed out, particularly verbally, in anger. For all my control, there are times when I slip regardless. And the instant response, in me, when I have done that, is nausea, revulsion and fear. There is no ... There is no triumph attached, even if the blow is successful. In an intellectual discussion, I delight in being the victor. I am a prideful thing, make no mistake. I enjoy winning something. I do not enjoy ... cannot enjoy ...
And yes, I know that martial arts, if embraced correctly, would not cause that. Would not allow that. That they are not aimed at violence, or the forcible enaction of will over another, but rather the prevention of another's will being enacted over you. But there is a link in my head, between violent forms, violence itself, and anger, that causes me instinctive fear. And if there is going to be unity between the three, mind, body and spirit, if I were ever to attempt them, then that instinctive fear and association would have to be dealt with.
*frowns, rubs face* If I could describe an ideal result, for me, from learning something like martial arts, it would be ... the creation of a place of stillness, from which to turn aside any outward violence directed at me. To that end, and in light of the other benefits my mother outlined (activity, social connection), I ... was maybe thinking of looking into the more purely defensive forms? Aikido, maybe, though I'd need to do more research.
I would also, I think, if I did decide to take lessons, and found some available, probably need to approach my teacher with these fears? Physically, I am confident I can learn anything. Not to the level of excellence (rare are the things at which I excell), but to the level of adequacy and self-trust, at least. But emotionally ... And, I think, that should be something I tell someone, warn someone of, before they hand me abilities that cannot be revoked.
My mother thinks it would probably be better for me if I did learn something that would enable outward expression of anger. At least, I think that's what she meant. Or, perhaps, that I should learn something that would allow me to control myself in anger, and enable me to not fear it. Learn to control an outward, potentially violent response. I ... Potentially, she has a point. But ...
I play black in chess, if given the slightest choice. I would rather ... the same, in a physical discipline. I prefer to respond, to guard and defend, than to act first, to be the aggressor. Even if perhaps, sometimes, aggression is warranted. *sighs* I would prefer ... A defensive position, a place of internal control. I do not care if my will is enacted on others. I only care that theirs is not enacted on me. Autonomy, not mastery.
I don't know if that's cowardice speaking, though. *sighs, rubs face*
*laughs faintly* Which is ... an awfully heavy and involved discussion, in the face of the proposal to learn ... But it wouldn't be a sport, so I don't know. It wouldn't be a pure social or physical pasttime, not for me, not if there is the least implication/association of violence attached. If it were just a sport, I could decide much more easily to go or not to go. It would not involve this much consideration.
I want the control promised. I agree with the other benefits suggested. I just ... want to be in a position to trust myself to it, I suppose. Trust myself with it. Physical activity, the satisfaction of physical activity, I can get anywhere. I do three miles of walking a day. I'm swimming more, too. This isn't ... this isn't about exercise, or physical extertion, or my ability to trust/use my body.
It's about fear and anger and control, and so is much heavier. *smiles ruefully*
Oy. I don't know what to do. *sighs heavily* Any ideas?
My mother and I have been having a number of conversations recently, wherein she has been attempting to persuade me to take up martial arts, for a number of reasons including expanded social contact, physical activity, and a degree of personal control that she strongly associates with her own experiences of judo, among other things. All of which reasons I agree with, and consider valid. However, I have ... a number of issues and associations tied to martial arts that make such a prospect ... problematic for me.
First. My understanding of martial arts is that they are focused on a trine: mind, body, and spirit/emotions. The aim of most martial arts, as I understand them, is to create a unity between those three that will, in times of need, enable action.
That, I approve of, and desire, most desperately. But I fear ... oh, so many things. That may ... make me incapable. Or inadvisable. I'm not sure. Let me explain.
Mind, body, spirit. The first two are elemental. The third ... anathema.
I have complete faith in my body. I always have. It does what I ask of it within its physical limitations, as soon as I ask it. That has always been the case. I have never been unable to learn or perform a physical movement once I understand the concept and purpose of it (or the physics of it), and have practiced enough to allow my body time to learn it (excepting in issues of balance, but I'm not quite sure what's happening there, so we'll leave that for a moment). I have always enjoyed a degree of control over my body that has allowed me to do such things as climb, run, ski and swim with reasonable ease and confidence. I was always, as a child, considered physically fearless, doing such things as climbing trees, cliffs and roofs without much qualm, or swimming in say an Atlantic storm, and later continued that trend with things like skiing (which has a very particular satisfaction). It's not that my movements are flawless, or that I do not fall, or that I do not make mistakes. It's that I am aware, always, of what my body might reasonably be expected to accomplish, and the circumstances that would allow it to do so. So long as I am confident I am within those parameters, there is no reason to allow fear to prevent me from acting.
I was also always the least injured of all my cousins/siblings, despite being as physically active and daring as them. Again, I put that down to the sense of physical control I have always had within my body. I trust my body to react as it needs to react.
I am afraid of pain, of course, of being hurt, sometimes to terrorising degrees, but the point of control in physical endeavours is to minimise the potential for damaging circumstances. With care, that is possible in a startling range of activities. Once due precautions are taken, and due awareness is paid, there has never been much reason for me to fear attempting something physical. Make sure to avoid or be cautious in situations beyond your body's limits, and make sure to maintain a line to physical safety at all times, and you should be fine.
I also have always had a degree of instantaneous and instinctive connection between mind and body. I learned to turn on the ski-slope, on my second day of trying, by understanding the relationship of weight and motion as the creation of a lever (downhill leg the fulcrum, uphill leg the arm of the lever moving you into turn). Once a thing makes mental sense to me, and is within my body's physical capabilities, it is doable. My body is a direct extension of my will, and may be trusted to act as such. Provided, of course, that my mind and will are on the ball and not, for example, frozen in blind terror -_-;
The problem, then, is with the third leg of the trine. The problem is with my emotions, and the degree to which I outright distrust and even fear them.
I am ... afraid to couple that physical extension of will with an emotional response to danger. I trust my body to do whatever I need it to do. I do not trust myself to know, particularly in violent situations, what I need it to do.
I ... fear anger. Even, perhaps especially, my own. I fear it to the degree of physical nausea in response (you can see why I'm no good at arguing, then). I also, for a variety of reasons, have the concepts of anger and violence intrinsically linked in my head, such that one will automatically evoke the specter of the other.
The both concepts are then also linked to another, equally terrifying one. The loss of control. Once anger is part of the equation, I have an instant sensation of the situation spiralling out of control, of possibilities multiplying exponentially, and all of them negative. There is a sensation of irreversable damage, to any target of anger, myself or others. There is a blind terror of causing it. There is a fundamental blind aversion to the concept of violence, to the thought of doing something irreversible to someone else.
Understand. It is not that I do not believe myself capable of violence. I know I would be, at least physically, if I learned enough of the motions. I know I am capable of violence. I am afraid, that to couple physical mastery to an emotional response would ... do things I cannot take back.
Now. Now. I know, I fully understand, that that is not the aim of martial arts. It is, in fact, the complete opposite of the aim of martial arts. The aim of a martial art is to gain enough control of yourself to be able to act appropriately in whatever situation emerges. I want that. I really, really do.
But I am afraid of the degree of linkage between the concepts of violence and anger in my head. Though the intent of martial arts is the opposite, the form is a violent one. I am afraid of the reactions that might be evoked by that. Especially in situations of genuine danger and violence. In other words, in an emotional situation.
I ... have been physically threatened before. I have been the break for someone else's anger. I have ... I have ... I have had it pointed out to me, with deliberation, that my physical abilities are no match for someone and, as such, nothing I could do would stop him if he decided to do something (Jesus fuck, I keep being surprised by how afraid I still am of him). I ... learned very quickly that ineffective anger on my part only invited more capable people to enact their own. Once I get angry, I cannot think. I lose control. I become ineffective. I become vulnerable. Therefore I learned to ... swallow anger. Let it be fear, let it be terror, let it be disgust, let it be shame. Let it be anything except a provocation. Let it be anything, so long as it does not show. So long as it is not enacted.
I am afraid that, in light of how long that lesson has been learned to me, how little I understand my own anger, how much I fear it, that to learn to create effective anger would be ... dangerous. That I would enact something I cannot control, except this time the damage would be to someone else. I am afraid, given the degree to which my body is an extension of my will, that to learn a physical form that allows the expression of anger would ... Not cause. Allow me, while my capacity for thought is compromised, to use it.
When I am angry, I freeze. It looks much the same as when I'm afraid. Largely because the two often come together. Fear causes anger, anger causes terror and revulsion. I freeze, to prevent loss of control. Let them do what they like. Physical damage (though that has, in fact, been rare enough) is a more acceptable consequence than an action I am responsible for, and cannot undo. I have ... lashed out, particularly verbally, in anger. For all my control, there are times when I slip regardless. And the instant response, in me, when I have done that, is nausea, revulsion and fear. There is no ... There is no triumph attached, even if the blow is successful. In an intellectual discussion, I delight in being the victor. I am a prideful thing, make no mistake. I enjoy winning something. I do not enjoy ... cannot enjoy ...
And yes, I know that martial arts, if embraced correctly, would not cause that. Would not allow that. That they are not aimed at violence, or the forcible enaction of will over another, but rather the prevention of another's will being enacted over you. But there is a link in my head, between violent forms, violence itself, and anger, that causes me instinctive fear. And if there is going to be unity between the three, mind, body and spirit, if I were ever to attempt them, then that instinctive fear and association would have to be dealt with.
*frowns, rubs face* If I could describe an ideal result, for me, from learning something like martial arts, it would be ... the creation of a place of stillness, from which to turn aside any outward violence directed at me. To that end, and in light of the other benefits my mother outlined (activity, social connection), I ... was maybe thinking of looking into the more purely defensive forms? Aikido, maybe, though I'd need to do more research.
I would also, I think, if I did decide to take lessons, and found some available, probably need to approach my teacher with these fears? Physically, I am confident I can learn anything. Not to the level of excellence (rare are the things at which I excell), but to the level of adequacy and self-trust, at least. But emotionally ... And, I think, that should be something I tell someone, warn someone of, before they hand me abilities that cannot be revoked.
My mother thinks it would probably be better for me if I did learn something that would enable outward expression of anger. At least, I think that's what she meant. Or, perhaps, that I should learn something that would allow me to control myself in anger, and enable me to not fear it. Learn to control an outward, potentially violent response. I ... Potentially, she has a point. But ...
I play black in chess, if given the slightest choice. I would rather ... the same, in a physical discipline. I prefer to respond, to guard and defend, than to act first, to be the aggressor. Even if perhaps, sometimes, aggression is warranted. *sighs* I would prefer ... A defensive position, a place of internal control. I do not care if my will is enacted on others. I only care that theirs is not enacted on me. Autonomy, not mastery.
I don't know if that's cowardice speaking, though. *sighs, rubs face*
*laughs faintly* Which is ... an awfully heavy and involved discussion, in the face of the proposal to learn ... But it wouldn't be a sport, so I don't know. It wouldn't be a pure social or physical pasttime, not for me, not if there is the least implication/association of violence attached. If it were just a sport, I could decide much more easily to go or not to go. It would not involve this much consideration.
I want the control promised. I agree with the other benefits suggested. I just ... want to be in a position to trust myself to it, I suppose. Trust myself with it. Physical activity, the satisfaction of physical activity, I can get anywhere. I do three miles of walking a day. I'm swimming more, too. This isn't ... this isn't about exercise, or physical extertion, or my ability to trust/use my body.
It's about fear and anger and control, and so is much heavier. *smiles ruefully*
Oy. I don't know what to do. *sighs heavily* Any ideas?
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