I went to a cage fight with Rahim and a few of his friends. I hadn't ever been to a cage fight before. I used to box and it had been a long time since I had been to a match of any sort....tennis included. I'll admit that I was bit apprehensive and hesitated as we made our way to the entrance to the building. Extreme violence has a direct connection with vexatious memories of getting my throat slit and boxing the fuck out of Eric's face mixed with seemingly paranormal hallucinations. I lumbered through the experience like on a tumbrel on the way to some PTSD soaked guillotine. At first it just seemed like an albatross hanging around my neck....when we took our seats near the cage/ring I felt like I was conquering something.
I enjoyed the fight without having to parallel any of it to my managed illness rearing its head in my life or thinking about how I was left at the alter per se because of something that one could not forsake. Meh....if I'm to have a man in my life he needs to be made of pretty strong stuff and mucho compassion to allow some imperfections. I don't think love is treated with a clinical and cold set of hands.
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