It’s hard not to feel like trash constantly in a sport that challenges every facet of your being. Let alone feeling like fucking garbage in your day to day life when inevitably, something doesn’t go according to plan or your mental health is taking a hit due to personal reasons. A lot of times, especially after some mediocre competition performance or with a total ass-kicking in the gym, I’ll feel like a surmounting pile of raw sewage heaped upon a dumpster pile inside of an ever-growing landfill, and then set ablaze. Sometimes it feels like I am fighting with every fiber of my being to keep those negative thoughts detrimental to my mental health at bay, but when you’re already so consumed with stress and pressure, the littlest thing is bound to set you over the edge. So what do you do when you feel like absolute fucking garbage?
Hi friend, I know it may not mean much to you reading the ranting ramblings of a total stranger on the internet, but even if no one else out there isn’t he works understands what you are going through, I’m here to say that I totally get it. I mean, I really do. I don’t know how many of you out there may be like me, and are often looked towards as the level-headed leader, the one who remains upbeat, and in control, and like things don’t bother them because they’re so good at handling any sort of blip on their radar. Well, I don’t know if I’m actually good at those things, or if it is simply expected of me due to my position and standing at the gym, but Lawd let me tell you, ya girl is trying. I struggle just as much as everyone else with these stupid fucking thoughts telling me I’m not good enough, no one cares, I suck, and that I’m a burden to others. But you know what? I absolutely can’t dwell on the negative because it will do me zero good. I just have to remind myself that I’m a bad bitch through and through, and to keep working hard until I prevail. One day, it will be my time.
Look at Oscar the Grouch. The muppet literally lived in the fucking trash and had a great life with plenty of friends, no matter how often he denied this through his grumpy snarls. This grouch absolutely adores his trash can. After all, like the title of this piece says, it’s called garbage can, not garbage cannot. So why not embrace all the smelly, stinky sufferings you must endure to reign top of that heaping pile of trash? There are days when you will be that moldy, rotten banana peel and there are days when you will illicit the prize of a noteworthy dumpster dive. Remember, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. My last boyfriend thought I was a steaming pile of maggot covered feces as he cheated on me and almost killed me. My husband worships me from the moment my eyes flutter open to when I take my self to sleep. See? Treasure.
Ignore the self-doubt creeping in, or the bad thought encroaching your mind when you have a shitty day at competition. Every dog has its day, and sometimes you’re just off your game. Train enough, and you will have countless days where you leave the gym shaking your head, pondering what the hell your professor was thinking when they promoted you. I’ve been doing this almost daily for 9 years and I swear I still be having those days where I can’t wait to strip off my gi and watch my tears flow down the shower drain as I sob intermittently while shampooing my scalp. It can be hard not to let those thoughts consume you and penetrate your psyche, but it’s important to recognize the temporary feelings and keep pushing onward. Your coaches mean it when they stand by their promotion, so try not to disrespect their knowledge by feeling unworthy.
So just remember, what may be an absolute stink-pile of trash one day, may be smelling like Febreeze-infused roses the next. Mama ain’t raise no quitter, so never relent no matter how trailer trashy your Jiu Jitsu be feeling. I can get Molly-whopped one tournament, and absolutely annihilate the very next, and most of it has to do with my mindset on that particular day. The ‘you’ of today could absolutely demolish the ‘you’ when you first began this journey, and that’s all that really matters. Sure, flies hang around trash, but they also hang around poo too, and baby, I’m the shit. So take a big whiff and watch the fireworks start to pop off. I can. I will. I must.
