If you had to ask me what are the two things that have gotten me the furthest in my life it would have to be the fact that I am a total sucker for punishment and thankfully, am really bad at dying.
I’ve come close on at least two different occassions where, had circumstances been slightly different, I wouldn’t be writing this post and eating Cheerios for breakfast, I’d be lying in a hole, probably already bones by now. Although to be honest, I’d much prefer if my body was turned into tiny bite-sized cocktail hors d’ouevres and served as a tasty snack at my funeral.
People would be like, ‘My these tiny bite-sized cocktail hors d’ouevres are delicious, what are they?’ and the people in the know, who wouldn’t be going anywhere near them would say, ‘Slick Tiger. That’s how he wanted to go. This way a little piece of him will live inside us all.’
At which point the funeral would probably turn into a vomitorium, but I digress.
I think I’m a sucker for punishment becuse of what I experienced when I woke up from the first operation. In that moment, as my mind waded slowly and painfully through the depths of the general anaesthetic they’d given me, I had no idea where I was, how I got there, why I was there, and most importantly, who the fuck I was.
There was just pain. Bone splintering pain, the kind that aches right down to your core and washes over you in colossal and sickening waves. In that moment I was pain. My identity was completely erased, I remember trying to reach back for something, some kind of clue as to why I had woken up in that hell, but there was nothing there.
I remember swearing. I remember the tiled ceiling. One of the nurses wheeling my bed said, ‘Ok, he’s definitely awake now’ and not long after that they put me under again. In total it couldn’t have been longer than three minutes. Amazing how three minutes can change your entire life.
And now I sit here, nearly eight years later, stronger in every imaginable way. I train as often as I can, I sweat blood and I eat weights and when I wake up the next day, my muscles sore and stiff, I feel satisfied and I feel closer to that person who woke up so many years ago, pure as a screaming newborn.
You gotta wake up at least two or three days a week feeling like you’ve been in a fight, cause life is a fight. The moment you lie down and accept your fate is the moment you stop living and start dying.
People spend their lives running away from pain and toward comfort and security, well I say fuck that, I say run toward pain, because the most incredible thing about our species is we think we know our limits, but every wall we’ve ever encountered we’ve found a way to bulldoze, and those people, the ones doing the bulldozing, they don’t give a fuck about pain or suffering or defeat or humiliation or fear.
They’re suckers for punishment, because when you’ve got nothing left to lose, you’ve got everything to gain.