I wouldn't say I'm a training addict.
I train a lot yes, every day, since I was weeks old. And I pass my time studying the language and more because...well, because that's all I can do.
That's the key point here.
I'm not a training addict.
I train a lot because I felt like this was my only path toward healing.
And I study a lot because I feel like this was the only path forward, for me to study more, to learn about my possible disability and the world I'm in, to get information.
Everything I do is motivated by clear goals.
I don't feel like I ever trained more than necessary, or just because I wanted to.
I'm not a training maniac.
Even if I exhaust my body every day, it's just to get some pain killers. It's not because I love training.
Well, I do. But I love training because it takes care of my pain, not because it's training.
That's why, even if I work more than any two years old ever did work. I do believe that I'm not a training maniac.
This belief of mine is slowly dying.
Those last few days, I've been doing a lot of things that are in the territory of a training addict.
Which is...overall, training, a lot.
This all started after I figured out the magic inside my body, after this happened, I slept, and the first thing I did when waking up was normal.
Everything was normal for now.
Evvvvverrrrrything was normal for now, everything was normal. Everything was in my plan
I got up. Felt my pain. It wasn't at 90% nor at 100%
Around 96% so I kept that in mind and decided to make me puke water again when...I felt ready for it.
It was...a bad experience last time I did it. Doubt I could do it with a snap of my finger, yeah, I doubt I can do that.
That's why, I decided on doing something else.
I kept on working on my question.
Why does movement helps?
So I started moving. I started moving, a lot.
I got up. And I stepped forward, and I moved. Left, right, up, down, jumped, squatted, lunged, rolled, crawled.
I moved.
In all the ways I could think of. I moved.
At first, I just moved randomly.
But after a while, I decided to do the same thing I did yesterday.
I closed my eyes. Started a meditation, and starting moving... Slowly.
It's hard to keep up the meditation while moving but...I did it, slowly.
At first I moved slow. Extremely slowly, I couldn't even open my eyes without breaking off my concentration.
The problem was feeling the relationship between the pain and my unconscious movements.
It's hard to feel my movements. And it's easy to feel my pain.
So there's some sort of annoying effect when I try to reach this meditative moving state.
It's as if I was trying to listen to someone talking to me in the middle of a rock convert.
I CAN'T HEAR SHIT!
But I need to. I need to focus, and when I manage to hear the music -the pain- all while hearing the guy voice -the movements-
I reach this stage.
It's like messing with an old radio knob to remove the static.
I can do it but it's hard.
When I manage to find the PEEEERFECT spot, where I can feel the pain and the movements in harmony?
That's when I reach the Nirvana state.
It's when I feel my entire body be...normal, more than normal. Good. It's when I stop moving weirdly, it's when I am a normal human that can run, jump, dance, do anything I wish without pain.
And let's just say that...
Uh
Finding a potential way to fully remove my pain kind of became.... Addictive?
He he he...
Okay it's not my fault alright? It feels REALLY good to be normal again
I don't think you realize how good you have it, having a body that you can manipulate without constant pain.
I don't think you do, but it doesn't matter. Because I do, I fucking do.
And it feels good. It feels lovely, it feels...addicting.
Really fucking addictive.
And that's when I started doing...training addict stuff.
It all started in my room. Alone. Where I closed my eyes and felt the wave, where I felt the pain and did my best to follow my uncontrollable movements.
It all started there. At first, like I said earlier, I couldn't even move with my eyes open. I needed to move in slow motion. Like I was some kind of old tai chi master.
I moved, slowly, waved my arm in the air, bent my knees when needed, extended when needed, constantly flowing like...well water.
Which made me remind of the whole puking stuff I needed to do...but like.
Uh...I don't wanna do it. Later. Maybe. That's...not enjoyable.
THIS though? Moving in my room, floating through the air, one with my body, one with the air surrounding me and sometimes even reaching a stage where I can feel normal again!?
This is REALLY good.
So good in fact that I progressed at it. I progressed...fast.
Like real fast.
Real fucking fast, well to be honest, I don't know if I progressed fast. Or if I just progressed normally, I don't know to be honest.
Passing fifteen hours everyday doing nothing but practicing one thing again and again and again and again and again and again and again is bound to give you good results after all.
What? That's a lot of practice?
Noooo, that's a reasonable amount of practice.
Everything for the sweeeeet feeling, the sweet sweet feeling of being normal for one second, for just one second.
I feel like that's a reasonable amount of training.
I progressed so much that I became able to open my eyes while moving.
It's...weird...it was weird at first.
But I managed to follow my movements, I tried to keep going.
But I also tried my best to look down at myself, to see what kind of weird movements my body was doing.
I did my best, I really did my best.
But I couldn't do anything, I couldn't see anything.
Why?
I needed to folllllloooow the flow, the flow, and the flow don't care about looking down at my body. So whenever I looked down, with JUST MY EYES, it broke. Everything broke.
Everything must be aligned. Eyes included.
Now that I can see, I managed to figure out what my eyes were doing when my eyelids were closed.
They were moving, everything must be aligned.
My breathing must be with the flow. My eyes must be with the flow, my feet must be with the flow, and if I'm so exhausted that I can't maintain the flow?
Well, that's too bad.
The flow breaks.
Everything must be flowy. I must flow like a wave.
I never meditated in my past life.
I don't know what the fuck is happening to me, I was joking about the monk stuff.
But I'm not joking about the amount of progress I'm doing.
Most of my practice went into moving, into moving with the flow.
And I practiced.
I practiced. As much as I could. As much as possible.
Whenever I stopped my practice to eat, to go to the toilet, to sleep, everytime. I felt like shit.
Just like that, two weeks passed.
I didn't see them pass.
210 hours of flow training.
But I started to worry...hey man..I still need to practice the weird puking stuff. BUT IT FEELS HORRIBLE!
And the flow feels perfect, everything is normal with the flow.
If I keep training, if I just train well enough I get the chance THE CHANCE, for just one blissful second I get the chance for everything to be normal.
And that's great, I know. That's great...but...but I still have other things to do.
Like...I need to study the language.
So I studied the language. I studied the language, I studied...with the flow.
Don't ask me how. But apparently I can't escape my practice, it all started pretty normally.
I was sitting on the floor, opening the image book and writing on my papers, trying to figure out the story and the words.
I did my best, but damn...I did wanted to practice the flow.
That's when I found myself moving around while sitting.
I didn't realize it until the night came, until I was ready to sleep, until I was ready to stop and found my legs in a different position than when I started.
Only when I finished my work did I realized what happened.
I moved around.
While studying.
The next day was a great day to figure out what was happening.
I sat down, in front of the book. And tried to study, while putting more attention on my body, I couldn't see it, no, looking down was too hard, it breaks the spell. The flow.
But when I focus hard enough.
I feel it.
I go from sitting, to kneeling, to spread legged, to half kneeling, moving in and out of thousands of different sitting position, all while my hand works on deciphering this language.
I didn't noticed it yesterday.
But I was training, without even noticing.
You may think that it's at this moment that I started considering myself a training addict.
But no.
That would be a lie.
So much worse happened first.