Is this really what people spend their entire lives working for. Ive had to move into a one bedroom flat for a while. An overpriced, lonely, empty box. A prison box for me.
I have spent 12 years of my life confined to a box while I was on an oxygen hose. Only ever leaving to walk the dog on a mobility scooter or for doctors appointments. They only supply so many bottles of oxygen a month.
Too many hospitalizations this year,my oxygen level keeps dropping to 82% with excertion.They are now putting me back on an oxygen concentrator for using the bike to try and pick back up. Ive had to place my gym membership on hold for three months and Im at the gym everyday.
I cant have a garden or a dog at this new address.I will be truely amazed if I dont cut my wrists in the first two weeks of being there. I just keep thinking all I have to do is stay here for six months,get back on my feet.
I keep watching bushwackerman and dreaming of living in a tipi.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggZe7nC6yGo
I wrote the following letter to my head instructor
https://seratbushcraft.com/aussies-arent-so-tough/
I had two weeks to prepare my self to start training and then promptly ended up in hospital again. I crashed out in the afternoon and woke up with 80% oxygen level .I dropped the van off at a mates place. A mate I had met through AMOK. Luckily he was home ,I was going to call an ambulance when arriving. He rushed me to the hospital and stood in line for me for 15 minutes waiting for the nurses at the front counter to do anything as the line slowly increased. I was almost alseep on the chair, I couldnt wake up.All my energy spent on leaving the van some where safe. He was meant to be getting ready for a date that night.
I only have a hand full of friends,all like this and I constantly try to think of ways to pay them back for the friendship and being in my life. All I can do is buy lotto tickets every week hoping to win enough to pay off their morgages.
Yet I still go to training every fortnight I just have to sit and watch and occasionaly give hints to the beginners. This is so frustrating,I still learn. I see the patterns and come up with ways around the techniques, stratagies to overcome my limitations.
I now focus on the reply letter Tom sent me,Ill post below. The last few weeks Ive been feeling tired, not tired in my body but tired in my soul.Too many dumbarses to deal with in government departments I guess. That letter reminds me to keep fighting.It came at just the right time. The level of depression that swept over me at having to take the prison box was overwleming.
I have a new thoery about crayons. Im buying crayons and putting stickers on them saying ” Chew slowly,choking hazard.” Everytime I come across a crayon eating window licker that amazes me every time that they are capable of wiping their own backside or tying their own shoelaces. I hand them a crayon. That seems to apease them and they wander off. The crayon gives them something to chew on as they lick windows.Im assuming.
It seems more appropriate then saying walk away from me before I dislocate your neck you fuking dumbarse.
I constantly try to think of ways to control my temper.Im not good at making friends,not good at peopling. Ive always been better with animals.My dog always made friends for me. I wasnt able to raise my voice for 12 years while I had her. She had been abused so much.
Shes been gone almost three years now. I still miss her. I cant open a garbage bag loudly even now. The sound would make her run under the table and hide and shake until I crawled under there with her and hugged her till she calmed down.
I pushed my self through several levels of hell just to make sure my animals were taken care of.All that mattered was out lasting them. I still dont know what Im doing here now, that theyve gone.That wasnt the deal I made.
Back to my prsion box and my thoughts, too much time, not alone more isolated. I can barely see the computer screen from the glare as I wait for eye surgery. I have to enlarge the font to write.
Ill be writing more. The hospital will be regretting ever asking to put down my thoughts about organ transplantation.
Tom Sotis Reply Letter.Its amazing how afew words can turn your day around.
Brother Zac,
I read every word of your message — and I had to sit with it for a moment. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I wanted to say it right.
What you’ve lived through… what you’ve fought through — it’s staggering. I don’t say this lightly: I have the deepest respect for your spirit. Your grit. Your refusal to let hardship define you. The world is full of healthy people who find excuses. But you, Zac — you found a way.
You’ve trained through pain, through surgery, through oxygen lines, walking frames, and setbacks most people wouldn’t survive, let alone fight through. You didn’t just survive it — you chose to show up. You chose to be forged by it.
That kind of courage humbles me.
I admire the way you’ve carried yourself, not with ego, but with sincerity and respect for the art and those around you. The way you speak about your training partners, your instructors, your dog, and your fight back to life — it’s a reminder of what this path is truly about. Brotherhood. Purpose. Inner fire.
You’ve earned your place in this tribe ten times over — and I’d be honored to share your words with others if it can light a fire in them like it did in me.
I know this: anyone who trains beside you trains with a warrior. You might move slower on the stairs, but there’s nothing slow about your heart.
Much respect, brother — and when you step back on the mat next week, know that I’m standing with you, even from across the world.
Your friend and brother,
AMOK!
Tom
