Fist Fight: Logic vs. Passion

The following post is brought to you by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop writing prompt “Fist Flight.” It may be a metaphor or a piece of fiction. It could have happened long ago, or could be taking place this instant. (But I will tell you this is not something to do with my current work situation, just in case you work buddies are wondering.)

I’m a fighter. I fight for what I believe in, fight for my passions, fight to be accepted, fight to be heard, and fight for my rights. Sometimes I’m very diplomatic in my ability to win a battle, where others aren’t even aware the battle was waged. Other times I leave a pretty nasty wake (not my best work).

Then there are the fights no one can really see. The battle that rages inside.

Sadly, I cannot say that I’m new to this fight. I’ve duked it out with myself to the bloody end several times in the past, and every time I’ve lost to myself. Every. Last. Time.

You see, I’m a rather passionate person. That can be great (makes for an amazing sex life), and it can be devastating (I’ve made a few enemies). When I take a stand or decide I want something, I do it with passion. When my passion (myself) engages my logical side (me/I), I rarely win. Possibly due to my obsessive streak where myself can latch onto an idea and obsess over it to the point where I can’t take it any longer.

Case in point, once not so long ago I got very upset with someone close to me and let lose with what I was really thinking. Not my best decision. But it was made because I lost to myself. I’ve also, in my younger years, had some rather passionate encounters that were rather incredible at the time. Oh the good old days. That’s when losing to myself can be kind of fun. (Enter Lady Gaga – “if it isn’t rough it isn’t fun…”)

Bad myself, bad. Bad. Myself is to blame for a few other things I said out loud, and did, over the years that came back to bite me, to be honest. You think I’d eventually learn to overrule it in all instances.

Now myself is back, and bad as ever.

Myself (my illogical, impulsive and passionate side) noticed something a few years earlier, just after my life took a major change. It’s been there ever since, quietly simmering under the surface, but I have been able to keep myself successfully distracted from deciding to acting out in a way I could regret.

Then myself recently made a decision, without consulting me, as usual.

As I was plotting along, minding my own business, myself hauled off and clocked me with a left hook. When the shock wore off I realized myself suddenly set its sights and the only thing in myself’s way is me.

Pitiful, completely unprepared to fight again, totally blindsided, perpetual loser to myself, hurting and vulnerable me.

And so the battle rages. I’m now so distracted that I’m putting the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge. I have these dreams where myself shows me what it has in mind, which leaves me even more distracted and frustrated all day. Not good.

I’ve seriously underestimated myself. Just as I can sell ice to an Eskimo, so can myself. We’re one and the same. And myself is wearing me down.

Me: I’m so screwed.

Myself: But would that be a bad thing?

Me: Yes.

Myself: No.

Me: Yes.

Myself: No.

Me: What the hell are you thinking?

Myself: I’ll tell you, imagine this”¦

Me: Oh God.

It’s a fist fight battle my two sides have fought for as long as my logical side has been in existence. I’m being tested once again, after so many other tests of my patience and ability to hold back what I’m really thinking and feeling lately.

However, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my passion in check this time. I’m not sure I want to. If it’s simmered this long, what’s the damage in letting the steam out for good?

That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

Tagged as: fighting, passion, writer's workshop