toepher

[toepher]

I wrote this as a kind of self reflection piece and also for the month of June to bring awareness to men’s mental health. Of course it’s July 1st and I’m sharing it now but I be a procrastinator sometimes. It’s deeply personal and embarrassing. I hope all my dude/bros can read through it and derive some strength and insight. Love ya’ll!

Combat Sports…and cheers to everyone’s collective midlife crisis on social media…including my own!

I have always had a deep love for combat sports and I’ve always been a protagonist. It started with wrestling back in seventh grade. I survived my first year and won a single match. I got completely destroyed and dominated that year. When I moved to 8th grade we were given the option of either staying on the junior high school team where I’d have a much better chance of getting a spot in the lineup or moving up to the high school team to basically be a rag doll for the elite D11 monsters that were consistently in states earning podiums.

I chose the shark tank and most of the time since making that decision I’ve always chosen the shark tank over the comfortable route. I got completely massacred in that room over and over again. John Henry, Mike Ferrera, the Mcgoldrick brothers, the Farley brothers, Erik Hansen, and George Kauffers consistently beat the ever living shit out of me. It was brutal but I found strength in it and they took the time to really teach me the sport. I got lazy sophomore year and into partying, drinking, and drugging. I quit the team and that moment was the beginning of a dark path that intermittently dominated my life for many years.

It all came to a head after my father died. I never faced it. I didn’t know at the time but the conversations he always had with me about his experiences and AA were likely the little bit of glue I needed to keep me from complete self destruction. It was also him trying to pull me up and out of it all. I ignored the shit out of him. When he died I did what men do I picked myself up, ignored the pain, numbed the pain, and went on autopilot completely unconscious to the damage I was causing. In 2021 I made the decision to get sober and start to really challenge myself again. I hated who I was and I hated how I looked. I had sacrificed my morals, integrity, and health during that time period in a big way and I’ve been coming back from it ever since. I found my strength again in combat sports under Professor Matt Perez at American Killer Bees as well as a metric fuckton of support from my colleagues at work.

The goal was simple. I will not die like my father in a chair at 60 years old obese and riddled with co-morbidities. Though I’ve felt him with me and even saw him once during the last couple of months the importance of having dad in your life as long as humanly possible can never be understated and I wish he were here with me now in the physical plain more than ever. We must accept that with which we cannot change and have no control over. But as I write my own history I know full well I have control over what I chose to do and when I started down this path to fight again and eventually become the kindest most vicious monster I could ever be the central goal remains the same.

Live as long as I can for my children. It is statistically proven that children from two parent households and children raised by single fathers lead better lives. The prisons are literally filled with fatherless men and women as I write this. My children will never be without me and my stepson is my son. I give not a single fuck about the adoption I was unable to secure or the blood we do not share. I will never leave him or be anything less than a father to him regardless of circumstance.

When I walked back onto the mat at American KIller Bees in 2021 I was 257lbs of swollen alcoholic still gradually drying out. I had no concern then for the vanity that comes with exorcise and I’d caution anyone who starts down the road of physical accountability to put the vanity of reclaiming your healthy body to the very back of your mind. Focus on bigger things that matter more and just start showing the fuck up.

In the beginning you will be nothing but discouraged as you constantly measure yourself against others or free weights or the treadmill or whatever your schtick is. It doesn’t matter. What matters is showing up as much as humanly possible, doing whatever you can with the body you’ve got, and showing up again and again. More importantly than anything else is showing up when you don’t want to.

I’ve been showing up. I’ve been sharpening the sword. I’ve been working and developing my own game and I’ve been testing and measuring my skills against bigger, stronger, faster, and better men and during the beautiful pain of the process I have certainly become a monster again myself. However the monster I am now is one of total control. The foundation I’ve built through MMA and therapy has proven itself unbreakable thus far.

To many of you I’m sure I appear skinny and unassuming. I like it that way. It seems some people who think they know me routinely see my kindness and loving nature and mistaken it for weakness. The truth of it is my truth. I talk shit because I have bled, broken, and brutalized myself on those mats. I talk shit about life and psychology because I’ve survived tremendous darkness and educated myself through it with a good therapist. I talk shit because I’ve earned the right to speak it. I talk shit because I know I’m the total package nowadays and anyone in my circle will continue to be pulled and inspired by my daily quest to be a good man in the face of everything hell bent on making me into what I am not.

If anyone reading this wants to find out you’re more than welcome to come down and sign a waiver at the gym or openly debate anything with me. I have earned the right to tell the majority that you will find yourself sorely lacking if you haven’t been training your mind and body as I have. The two are more intricately connected than myself or anyone truly understands. I have become a psychological and physical savage in the nicest way possible and I’m proud of it but there is still much work left to do.

I found my why, it was in myself and my children. Get off your ass and go find yours. Stop sharing dumb quotes to an oceanic background and start putting the work in you fuckin savages!

“Aspire rather to be a hero than merely appear one”

[toepher]

There is a river in my dreams

Your reflection in the water remains still

Against the current smiling back at me

While all the other faces disappear

You keep me afloat

[toepher]

I joined so I’d finally start writing again. What a simple task and also a daunting challenge. The task? Putting words and thought to paper or text. Simple enough in the description right? Although at 35 I admit I’ve forgotten much in terms of grammar. The daunting challenge I feel for me anyways has always been and will always be sorting through the never ending circus in my head. A wonderful place I spend a little too much time in. I’ve gotta tread carefully in here though as this refuge can quickly become a prison of my own construct. Ergo I am on guard in this space.

Time is one of our greatest teachers. As we sprint towards forty I feel like I’m on the edge of a precipice. In the vast expanse spread out before me I’ve cast an old defunct shell into the void. Another version that served its purpose. I’m happy with the new model. Same biomech carting around grey matter but everything else feels changed. Transformed. I suppose I write now to ease the growing pains. I don’t really know where to start. I have everything the tv that partially raised me told me to want and need. I’m still not satisfied. The more I reflect the more I think I won’t ever be. I guess I’m a romantic and no matter how good reality is I am never satisfied.

I think that’s why people like us take to drugs and alcohol like it’s second nature. The escape it provides, though fickle and fleeting is so…intoxicating. However, the clarity of sobriety cannot be overlooked. As I continue to experiment with the platform I’ll delve deeper into all of these things. I am enjoying my sobriety at this stage in the game and using outlets like this to learn and understand who I really am nowadays. I hope whomever reads this babble finds it relatable.

I’ve made an entire life and career helping people but in the last few months I’ve been unable to shake the feeling that this healer never has anyone to heal him no matter the efforts of the loving people whom surround me everyday. I’ve learned that the act of helping others is selfish in a strange way because I derive a great deal of satisfaction from it. In the frantic mess that is the world today I’ve found my only way to keep going is through my service to others. If I let my mind wander in search of any other purpose I come to a never ending circle of futility.

Does none of it matter or does everything matter?