Your legs fail. The muscles hurt so much, and the tension has been so much, that all of a sudden you take a step and the knee buckles, and when you try to flex the muscles on the other leg to take the load, it starts to buckle too; you feel yourself quite literally on your knees, and only your last, gasping effort can restore control of that screaming heap of fibers your normally dependable limbs have become.
You try to regain balance, and you fail; the slightly dazed feeling, like after a really hard beating or a very tense session with the dentist, with much drilling, much swearing on her part and too little anesthesia, does not go away.
You realize your arms hurt too, and your joints; your stomach, like after too many situps or a soccer ball shot really hard into you. Your head, even your face. Your back is killing you for the first time in years. It is really like you took a beating, but the nearest place where police do these kinds of things is thousands of miles away, and you haven't been to a dojo in years.
Add to that the continuous mental pain driving you to tears, and the headache that's starting to gain its true dimensions.
No, my dear friends, that's not the disease; it is the mildest from of its treatment, a little guided tour that allows you to get it under control step by step. The disease in itself is far worse; it is this, every day, all day, plus the absolute certainty that you are the last heap of unworthy shit on the planet, and the continuous pain, everywhere, always the pain...
There will be another session next week; and then, hopefully, control. In the meantime, one must find a somewhat private place, and weep.
Welcome to hell, ppl. We know the place well.
Your legs fail. The muscles hurt so much, and the tension has been so much, that all of a sudden you take a step and the knee buckles, and when you try to flex the muscles on the other leg to take the load, it starts to buckle too; you feel yourself quite literally on your knees, and only your last, gasping effort can restore control of that screaming heap of fibers your normally dependable limbs have become.
You try to regain balance, and you fail; the slightly dazed feeling, like after a really hard beating or a very tense session with the dentist, with much drilling, much swearing on her part and too little anesthesia, does not go away.
You realize your arms hurt too, and your joints; your stomach, like after too many situps or a soccer ball shot really hard into you. Your head, even your face. Your back is killing you for the first time in years. It is really like you took a beating, but the nearest place where police do these kinds of things is thousands of miles away, and you haven't been to a dojo in years.
Add to that the continuous mental pain driving you to tears, and the headache that's starting to gain its true dimensions.
No, my dear friends, that's not the disease; it is the mildest from of its treatment, a little guided tour that allows you to get it under control step by step. The disease in itself is far worse; it is this, every day, all day, plus the absolute certainty that you are the last heap of unworthy shit on the planet, and the continuous pain, everywhere, always the pain...
There will be another session next week; and then, hopefully, control. In the meantime, one must find a somewhat private place, and weep.
Welcome to hell, ppl. We know the place well.
You try to regain balance, and you fail; the slightly dazed feeling, like after a really hard beating or a very tense session with the dentist, with much drilling, much swearing on her part and too little anesthesia, does not go away.
You realize your arms hurt too, and your joints; your stomach, like after too many situps or a soccer ball shot really hard into you. Your head, even your face. Your back is killing you for the first time in years. It is really like you took a beating, but the nearest place where police do these kinds of things is thousands of miles away, and you haven't been to a dojo in years.
Add to that the continuous mental pain driving you to tears, and the headache that's starting to gain its true dimensions.
No, my dear friends, that's not the disease; it is the mildest from of its treatment, a little guided tour that allows you to get it under control step by step. The disease in itself is far worse; it is this, every day, all day, plus the absolute certainty that you are the last heap of unworthy shit on the planet, and the continuous pain, everywhere, always the pain...
There will be another session next week; and then, hopefully, control. In the meantime, one must find a somewhat private place, and weep.
Welcome to hell, ppl. We know the place well.