Dealing with adversity

So here’s a fun little thing I recently discovered about myself: When things get tough, my default is to quit.

Case in point: Playing pool with Hubby. There have been times where he is simply “on” and I am “off.” In other words, he’s smoking me. I get so discouraged that I only play worse, until I hang up my cue and walk away without finishing the game.

I know it isn’t pretty, but there we are.

This has been Jiu-Jitsu for me lately. I WAS at the top of my class, or so I thought. But it seems being the only one with four stripes on my belt doesn’t make me the best. There are a few three-stripers who are out stripping me.

Instructor posted this on Instagram. I think that means it’s fair game since it’s public. Can you spot me?

Take Gym Rat, his own characterization for himself. His shirt sleeves barely hold up against his muscly arms. He, ironically, calls me Killer, which I find funny. He also likes to offer me advice.

I know what you’re thinking, but I find it more kind than annoying. (But still a little annoying.)

Then there’s Tall Guy, who recently reported taking a private lesson because his work schedule prevents him from coming to most regular classes. At the lesson, Instructor said, “Let’s just take the test.”

And he passed. Just like that, without even intending to test yet. And did I mention he only has three stripes?

Meanwhile, Instructor said I should continue attending Reflex Development (RD) classes until I’m ready to test. I’ve been doing RD for a couple weeks, but am not finding it particularly helpful, since my partner is generally on the same level as I am. But Instructor suggested one more go through of all the techniques, which would take a month.

By that time, more will have tested on ahead of me. Though I don’t believe taking action out of pride is a good thing, I wasn’t keen on being further humbled.

Tired of spinning my wheels and getting nowhere, I considered giving up. The joy is being sucked out of Jiu-Jitsu. If I could move on and start learning new techniques, it would probably be fun again.

If nothing else, shouldn’t I at least complete this program? Or should I not bother?

My friend who does Muay Thai, a boxing style often taught at Jiu-Jitsu gyms, posted this. I can so relate.

Knowing that I would miss it if I quit, I instead asked Instructor if I could do a one-hour private lesson to short-cut this process.

If I could make progress… If I could get a WIN, maybe a rare and coveted “I’m proud of you,” I wouldn’t feel quite so discouraged.

The actual test is five drills. Each must be completed in less than five minutes. The fourth drill was covered most recently in RD class, so we started there. It’s also, to me, the easiest.

Nevertheless, this one five-minute drill took up the entire hour. There are numerous tiny details to remember. Keep your arms up, land on your shoulder not your elbow, your stance needs to be wider, pounce off the front foot, bend this knee not that one…

We went through it over and over again, checking the video afterward each time to watch for mistakes.

Darn it, elbow! Darn it, bent knee! Even though I knew what to do, in the heat of it, I kept screwing up.

“Want to try again?” Instructor asked for about the fifth time.

“Are you sure you’re still up for this?” I asked, amazed he wasn’t bored by the repetitive process.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Meanwhile, I’m tired and panting; he’s acting like he merely strolled across the room.

On the next round, all was going well. When the timer on his phone went off, indicating our hour was up, we continued through to the end.

“I think that was the one,” he said, meaning the one he’d turn in to be graded at HQ.

“Yeah, that felt perfect to me,” I said, relieved.

He checked his phone. “But when the timer went off, it stopped filming.”

Aaarrggghhh!

Cue discouraged, wanting to pack it in, tired, sweaty, “the last one we got was close enough” panting me.

“Want to do it again?” he asked.

By now I’ve exhausted my allotted time, as well as myself. Nearly.

“You sure?” I asked him again.

“Yeah. You’ve got this. Each time gets better and better.”

Back in my glory days when I still felt great. This standing armlock, by the way, was in this drill, and was not one I struggled with. So, when in doubt, at least I know how to break men’s arms. 🙂

So we did it yet again, not surprisingly, in record time given all that practice.

We eagerly sat down to watch the replay, him breathing normal, me panting into my gi top to hopefully cut the sound of my who-knew-I-was-so-out-of-shape? heavy breathing.

He slowed down the crucial spots.

If I could’ve been more breathless, I would’ve been.

“I didn’t see the elbow,” he said.

“Me neither,” I exhaled.

He slowly continued the video.

“Yes! Straight leg!” I pumped a fist in triumph.

He kept scrolling, sometimes pausing and zooming in to check proper hand placement and grip (thumbfull vs thumbless).

Finally, we made it to the end. “You’ve got it,” he said. “I don’t see any mistakes.”

Requisite fist bump!!!

Finally, as I grabbed my water bottle and bag and dragged myself to the door, he said, “I’m really proud of you.”

Note that this wasn’t an “I’m proud of you for rocking Jiu-Jitsu,” of course, because clearly I kind of suck.

It was an “I’m proud of you for sticking it out, for not giving up, for continuing to strive for perfection even though it was hard, and you were tired and panting like a dying dog in my ear.” (Though hopefully not that last part.)

And you know what, I’m proud of me too. (Let’s just ignore for now that that was the easiest drill, shall we?)

When I got home, I considered this vase of leaves on my desk. They were put there by my daughter weeks ago when they still had flowers. The purple blooms have long since gone, but the leaves have not only stayed alive, they’ve even grown.

Unstoppable leaves.

Then I noticed what looked like string in the vase. Pulling out the plants to investigate, I discovered this:

One of them has even managed to sprout a root in its tiny watery home.

I can learn from this plant.

But first I need to go kick Hubby’s butt in pool.