Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 2021-09-10 22:45:14 –
Polar Sophia Shonauer, LCSW, continues to make continuous memoirs. If you haven’t read the first half of this series yet, follow the links at the bottom of this page.
“Living meant giving my previous self to my present self.”
-Cameron Conaway, Cage: A memoir of a poet fighting Cage
Generation Kill author Evan Wright once said that combat was horrifying and thrilling, and could be an insidious combination of “best experiences.” He also said that combat can be “fun” because of deep excitement, exhilarating behavior, focus of purpose, and friendship.
The battle with Tommy was not like a war, but it was a battle. After bleeding his nose, he was urged to hurt Tommy as much as possible. I wanted to subdue him, defeat him meaninglessly, and hear him cry and plead for mercy. My anger and violence were fierce, my aggression was barbaric, and I was invited to an invincible delusion.
I was thrilled to chase Tommy around Michael Doughty’s backyard and see horror in his eyes. It was the most powerful and intense joy of my life, and I wanted more. He couldn’t put me down, even when Tommy threw punches at my torso and head one after another to land. I was relentless and bloodthirsty and wanted to see his nose explode with the impact of boxing gloves.
My world was condensed into a single purpose, and the clear pursuit of creating pain was a glory. The stimulus of the fight overwhelmed me, nullified my own pain, paralyzed my senses, and created a visual tunnel focused on Tommy’s head and upper body.
I could no longer hear the voices of the crowd, nor could I see them, diminished as they were becoming noise and blurring of movement around my consciousness. I didn’t notice the sky darkening, the streetlights on, or my dad calling me for the night. Beyond fatigue, I was in the battle zone riding a wave of adrenaline. I was having fun.
Dad must have been angry when he couldn’t go home after calling his name many times. He trampled on Mr. Padal’s driveway and stood on a band of grass that marked the border of Dorty’s backyard. When I saw my dad’s menacing glare just above Tommy’s head, I was throwing a punch at Tommy, who was away from me. I stopped there, froze in horror, and noticed the darkened sky for the first time. I wondered if I was in trouble.
Dad’s face became softer and his lips cracked with a smile. It was even more noticeable because my face was dirty and greased. The sweat on his face made white marks in the gray stains, resembling the photo-negative of a sad circus clown. I stopped fighting and lowered my guard just in time to feel Tommy’s punch shocking my right temple and falling out of balance. knock down.
Michael rushed into the middle of the makeshift ring, grabbed me and carried me out of harm. “The battle is over!” He exclaimed.
Michael raised my arm and declared me a winner. Tim raised Tommy’s arm and declared his brother the winner. The crowd muttered for a moment, and their voices rose with excitement. At that moment I realized that I had won a significant portion of the crowd. It’s the same as I came to see Tommy hit my ass. A lively debate broke out among them, some proclaiming that I was the winner, and others proclaiming that Tommy was the winner. No matter who said what, I felt like a winner. Michael regarded me as the winner and had a clear pride and a broad smile in his eyes. Dad … he stood there, looked at me, was amused and maybe confused. It was hard to understand.
For the first time, he noticed the blood in his shorts, and his boxing gloves left a mark on his entire chest, suddenly getting tired and losing his sense of urgency. I felt muscle pain, the onset of bruises, and swelling of my left eye. I almost started crying, not because of pain, but because of gratitude. That’s it.
“Did you hear me call? The streetlight is on.”
Dad was trying to sound angry, but his voice cracked with joyful emotions … maybe. I’ve seen mom shed happy tears and heard her voice crack like that, but dad was never there. He seemed impervious to the manifestations of such emotions.
“Paul fought hard,” Michael volunteered. “He is a real champion.”
Some of Tommy’s supporters complained, moaning in protest. Some of my supporters cheered. People actually supported me. That was great.
Daddy lifted me up on his shoulder after Michael removed the boxing gloves from my hand. This was the first time for a very long time. From that perch, I looked down at the crowd, looked into their eyes, scrutinized and stared at me, some praised, but everyone was respectful. think. I knew it at that moment, and I’ve known it ever since. This was a turning point in my life. Nothing is the same.
Dad took me home, paraded me across the street, and walked with purpose and pride as some of the crowd followed. Maybe I just gave him something as good as I got with Tommy, but even myself was doing better than anyone could have imagined.
Indeed, I won.
The previous segments are:
Last updated: September 10, 2021 9:45 pm Brett Dickerson – Editor
Manhood — from the inside out — part 27 — Savage aggression Source link Manhood — from the inside out — part 27 — Savage aggression