An Open Letter

I came back early from my Jiujitsu class since I was sparring with the professor – a 6’3” 240lbs man, and he crushed my windpipe with a choke at one point. After I had tapped out and got back in line to spar with others, I noticed I had blood on my shirt and pants, and turns out my finger + part of my neck was bleeding. Because we didn’t have any bandages I went home since I couldn’t stop the bleeding there, but I ended up getting some silly little pictures with blood on my throat. Realistically it wasn’t that bad, the bleeding on my neck was very little and stopped pretty quick and the pain’s manageable + my finger just needed some liquid bandage and it’ll be fine. I’m weirdly kinda happy about this experience, as it’s one of those things where I get to act all cool and nonchalant and be like “Oh yeah no biggie, just started bleeding out of the neck. I’m not even worried, that’s normal for me.” even though in reality it’s just a small scrape on the neck and regular finger stuff. I just like feeling like I’m not a weak little bitch who is powerless. Things like this kinda fall into that fantasy, similar to how people fantasize about scars.

I went to a powerlifting club event earlier this week, and the other two people there at first were freshmen who were benching 315. I ended up leaving after a little bit since I wasn’t vibing too well, but that along with the advent of social media had me feeling small and weak. But also when I do things like Jiujitsu, I’m considered freakishly strong, and even against people way better than me I’m able to just purely muscle my way out of a lot of things without even meaning to. Against the professor, I was able to hold my ground for a little bit due to my strength, since I was almost able to get him in an Ezekiel choke, but he was able to get out and get control of me. From that point on he was in a winning position, and instead of transitioning to a mount, he kept turning my arms over and putting his weight on my chest or stomach with his knees. He even said “it’s more fun this way” until he eventually flipped me over and pulled my shoulder back until I tapped.

A younger me would have wanted to cry and been upset about how unfair it was and how he was being cruel, but now I kinda feel proud that I was strong or worthy enough for someone so physically bigger than me and more experienced to go out like that. I’m proud of myself and how I’ve grown.