“Let me go,
I don’t wanna be your hero,
I don’t wanna be a big man,
Just wanna fight like everyone else.”
“Hero” – Family of the Year.
—
I’m back in hospital. Incarcerated. Again.
It’s about three years since I was here last. Things haven’t changed much. The ward is the same, the nurses are the same, unfortunately, some of the patients are the same. It’s a grim reminder that the entrance has a revolving door. I never escape for too long before I return. I invariably violate my parole.
It’s hard to accept these new conditions. The lack of freedom, the admission of defeat, the sense of failure. I have been fighting a long time now and I am out of energy. I’m scheduled for a twelve round fight and it’s only the top of the tenth. My legs are like jelly and my vision is blurred. I can’t wait for the sound of the bell.
Acceptance is the key. I haven’t reached it yet, but it life is much easier once you grasp it. I know this from previous admissions. Coming to hospital is a necessary evil. It’s recognition that I am in trouble, that the fight is going on too long, that energy is low. It is submission but not surrender. It’s giving permission to allow support and help to come from the corner. It’s giving your body, mind and soul a break.
Recharging the soul takes time. It isn’t easy. There needs be tears and pain along the way. But it’s worthwhile. To finish the last two rounds might require a steroid injection but you get the chance to win the fight. There will always be another one, there are plenty of powerful contenders for the title. But, if you fight clever, dodge the blows and defend when needed, you just might keep the belt.
