Just Tap

“[To train jiujitsu] you just have to be able to be tapped out. Just tap! Just tap and go right back in and figure out what you did wrong and learn and it is a vehicle for developing your whole life.” — Joe Rogan

(from jeffzhao.com/blog)

It is a warm summer day in Austin, Texas. I’ve made the brief walk from my raucous, grimy apartment complex to my jiujitsu club. I’m late again because I couldn’t get out of bed because I was up late finishing my client work because intensive outpatient therapy was exhausting because I didn’t sleep the night before because I thought about every single mistake I’ve ever made. You know — the usual.

I’ve been training jiujitsu since 2012, since my eager legs, sinewy and taut after being tested on a bike all the way to Alaska, demanded a new challenge, and since learning about spreadsheets in business school didn’t exactly get my heart racing, I turned to jiujitsu.

I wanted to feel more like a man and I didn’t like the idea of punching people in the face or getting punched in the face so I turned to grappling. I started training jiujitsu and judo and aikido all at the same time. Judo made me feel weak and aikido was a total waste of time but jiujitsu — man, I was hooked from day one. You know that feeling you get when you know something will be a big part of your life? When you’re awful at it and still totally addicted? Yeah.

So, back to the jiujitsu club. I’ve got just a few minutes left of open mat before the instructor starts us drilling technique. A white belt I know well seeks me out. this makes sense, because despite my years of on-and-off training, I, too, am a white belt. Today is a gi day, which means that instead of wearing slick compression tops and shorts, I’m wearing a dense and slightly baggy cotton kimono which, paired with my white belt, announces to the world that I am insecure about my masculinity but doing something about it (or at least pretending to be).

It should have been reasonably easy for me. He’s been rolling for nearly an hour and I’ve just gotten there. A few months ago he was easy pickings for me because I was full of rage that had nowhere to go and a sick desire to burn all the sadness out of my body by training until my body shut down. These days he’s in great shape and learning fast. Meanwhile, I feel every single bagel bite and diet soda and unproductive day I’ve spent in bed ruminating about every single thing I did wrong, all the things I shouldn’t have said, all the things I shouldn’t have done, I should have lied to her and played it cool, I should have just focused on work, where did all this time go, where did all my money go, what am I even doing—

I’m in the gym. I’m not in my head. I’m in the gym.

We roll. He wins. He’s choking me. I should tap. I know it in my head. I feel it in my neck. I don’t tap.

I hate heroes on the mat, you know? Just tap. Nobody thinks you’re weak because you tap. Everybody taps. Every black belt has been tapped thousands of times. Not tapping doesn’t make you a tough guy, it just shows how insecure you are.

But that’s not why I’m not tapping. I want to see if he can do it. I want to see if he can choke me unconscious. I want to see if he can bring me one step closer to peace. This can’t be worse for my body than all the other horrible things I’ve been doing to it. You’re a strong guy. Choke me out.

He hesitates. He’s a nice guy. He’s a reliable training partner. I’ve trained with him many times. He doesn’t want to hurt me. Maybe he wonders why I’ve stopped trying to escape. Normally I fight until the end. This time I’ve given up. Fighters can tell when that happens.

I don’t get what I want. We train technique. I walk home.

It has been such a rough year. I cannot believe I’m still alive. There have been too many black days. Too many long nights. Too many.

Life doesn’t roll light. Life doesn’t let you go when you tap. It keeps choking you until you are dead.

Mars is dead and I know we will never have our adventures together. tap.
She says we want different things. I tuck my present back in my pocket. tap.
He explains my severance to me and says it’s just business. tap.
I pay a former best friend for him to never speak to me again. tap.
I kiss her and hold her in my arms and I know it is for the last time. tap.
I look in the mirror and realise how much bigger my gut is. tap.
I look in my bank account and realise how much smaller my savings are. tap.
I am alone and awake for days. I don’t know how many. I want to die. tap.

There are two parts to tapping. The first is accepting you have been beaten with humility. The second part is facing your foe again and challenging them with undiminished vigour.