Tomorrow I leave work directly to begin the journey to the New Warrior Training Weekend.
There, I typed it. The very name embarrasses me; I detest the word “new”, so overly used in marketing. And warrior; even worse. Brings to mind elementary school teams, loincloths, spears, and worst of all, fighting.
So why am I going? Well, thanks to the many men here I now know this event exists, why it may be good for me. And most importantly, in your email challenges over the week, you have made me gel in my mind what I want to get out of it.
I’ll try to forget the name.
Lots of emotions surfacing this week; from anger at the fact I’m so screwed up I feel the need to try this, to fears that this may be some sort of brainwashing, pod-exchange, or organ harvest. Has anyone counted the kidneys on the guys coming back from these things?
I feel irritable, getting annoyed at every little glitch in the registration process, and it hit me. I have told no one in real life except my wife I am going. So I have to go around bottling up my anxieties like nothing is going to happen this weekend, then show up at work on Monday like after any other weekend.
Shame is at the root of that; I am ashamed I need to go, ashamed I crave contact with other men. I project others will look at it negatively as well. There’s me, trying to not make any waves, stay in the background, avoid any controversy.
I see myself as a hobbit, who dislikes adventures and prefers his familiar hearth and garden, about to go on one. He’s afraid of what his relatives and friends will think, so he keeps it quiet. Mad Carl, going off on an adventure, how absurd!
Well, I am going. I go to seek and do battle with a monster, the one within me. He is old, strong and terrible to behold.
Wish me luck.