“Don’t stop, pop that, don’t stop, pop that pop that pop that.”

Pop that was blasting through the gym. This song always gets me hype and ready to go.

I chugged some gatorade down, and Faye yells from across the room, “You heard him, DON’T STOP!”

I look at her, roll my eyes, and sigh. She laughs.

I’m hype, a good, positive hype. I was working (and sweating) my ass off. I was breathing heavy and my heartbeat was crazy. I was powering through combos. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, cross, hook. Roundhouse kick, knee 1, tornado kick. Every strike felt great. It was like getting any burdens off my shoulders through my kickboxing. My bag was my security blanket. Unlike my sparring partners, it worked with me. It never got tired or had to take a break. It worked on my schedule. I hate the punching bags that are on the ground and are weighed down by water. I like the ones that hang from the ceiling. They’re just … better.

I was in the zone.  I wasn’t tired at all. If anything, training was almost “recharging” me. I gave the bag a break and headed for my jumping rope. I was so in the zooone.

The feeling is unreal and can only be explained to an extent. Whatever your passion is, it’s like that for me. When you get lost doing what you love. When you’re so into it that time flies and you’re enjoying yourself like crazy. It’s bliss. It’s my escape. For a little while, I can forget about the world for a while and focus on one thing. Training.

Reed walks in the gym with flowers and pink cardboard box with a ribbon on it.

I stay in the zone. I have about 15 minutes on the clock and want to power through it. I feel great. I do inchworm pushups. Starting standing and walk my hands across the floor into pushup position where I do clap pushups. My arms burn. I feel my arms strain. They want to stop. I go against it. I go harder and make sure each pushup is perfect. After training I used to be really sore and get bad knots. Sometimes I could barely walk or move. I even have a bruise from icing my knee area in the shape of a wishbone.  Everyone asked me why I worked so hard and why I didn’t take it easy. I always said,”I rather be in physical pain then regret it.” That’s one of the things I really try to avoid in life; regret. I always thought go big or go home. I always made sure everything I did was supposed to be done like it was my last.

And sometimes I thought it would be my last. When I struggled heavily with being bipolar, I thought I was going mad to the point where I couldn’t keep myself together when I wasn’t speedy. I didn’t know what to do. I used to take advantage of my pleasures in life. Then I realized, what if I got bad? What if I lost everything I cared about? Some of the things I thought about weren’t realistic, but there’s always that what if.

I just was so distraught that I promised myself that I had to make sure I had no regrets.

I turn to Reed and catch him staring. I give him a big, cheesy smile. His face lights up and the corners of his lips turn into a smile and show the cute dimples in his face.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey babe.” I say smiling as I eye the flowers and box.

I peck him on  the lips and avoid skin contact because I’m soaking wet from my sweat.

I grab a towel and wipe off as much sweat as I can. The towel is damp when I’m done with it.

“So who are those for?” I ask, obviously knowing who they’re for as I chug some smartwater down.

“My girlfriend.”

“Oh, she must be pretty.”

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

I scrunch my nose.

He gives me the irises and I open the box to see cookies in the shape of pink, boxing gloves.

I want to eat one so much. I look at him with a pouty face.

“Layla will kill me.”

“Good thing, she helped me make them.”

This guy. I love him. He’s just a step ahead.

I take a bite and oh my gosh, can you say foodgasm? These taste so good. I put the cookie in front of Reed’s mouth. He takes a bite while checking something on his phone.

I mean, duude. I don’t even have a sweet thought but these cookies. Gosh.

Reed gets a call.

“Mhm.” “Yeah, no problem.” “Loved to see her.” “Bye Rave.”

I look at him questioningly.

“I have to go take pictures of my niece in her cap and gown.”

“Want me to go? or you want to go alone?”

“If you don’t have plans, yeah, come.”

“Let me just shower.”

I wash off the sweat and put on a mint green dress on and some black heels.

We get to the place. Reed seems really happy to be her uncle. Then, I started thinking about kids. He’d be a great dad. Woah, dad? We’re not even married. We haven’t even been quote on quote serious. Then, I started thinking about boxing, how I could never give that up. I couldn’t give that up, ever. I’ll be damned if I do. Then, I started thinking about why I loved boxing and how I am who I am because of that which led to the title fight... which led to training.

There were so many thoughts racing through my mind. It was like I was thinking about a whole lot of things I didn’t want to think about right at the moment.

“Carter...?”

“Huh?” I said, still lost in my thoughts.

“You must have blanked out. I was asking if you could help her with her girly things like you know her hair and makeup and what not?”

What did he say?  Thoughts were still racing and occupying my mind. I couldn’t think... at least not the way I wanted to. It was like I was physically there, thinking these things but at the same time it wasn’t me. I felt powerless, almost out of control... of myself.

“Babe?”

I couldn’t even talk. I was having such a struggle to pay attention.

I was walking, and had just realized it.

“I, I gotta go home. Okay? Just go, I’ll be fine.”

“What?” Reed is so confused but I’m already on the phone with Caleb, telling him to come get me. Caleb knows the routine, the situation. He doesn’t even ask me where I am. I waited there, being so thankful of the chip on my phone Caleb put in.

Reed keeps talking in my ear, or at least that’s how it felt. So I do what I hope will get him to leave. He keeps on talking and talking and I already had too many thoughts going on in my head. I was using every ounce in my body not to lash out at him, to shut up.

So I grab his face and shut him up with a kiss. I plead with him to please just go the hell wherever he needs to be and that I’ll be okay. For what feels like a millisecond, he stares into my eyes. It cuts through me like glass. All the thoughts, all the rage, all the emotion all just stop for a blink of an eye. What sweet relief... and then he kisses my forehead, almost knowing better. I thank God he leaves and let out a sigh of relief. I’m breathing extremely hard and my heart is racing.

Where the hell is Caleb?!

My heart is racing and almost feels like that in any second it’ll beat out my chest.My hands are clenching in and out of fists because I have no fucking idea what I could do next.

I felt so caged in, but the thing is... I wasn’t contained ~at least not physically. I felt so trapped inside... inside my own body. Inside myself. My body was my safe haven and my prison.

The next thing I know I’m inside car. No music is playing. All the windows are closed and Caleb, well, he stays quiet. Externally, I sit in silence. Internally, a million and one things are happening. My heart is racing. My breathing is hard. A thousand and one thoughts were racing through my mind with the speed of light.  My vision is present, yet absent. It’s like having an out of body experience.

I am running. I don’t remember getting out of the car. I don’t remember stepping on the ground, yet I am miles from the car and heading for the gym.

I turn the lights on, blast on “Remember the Name”, and get to work on my punching bag.

I focus all my energy on the bag, trying to focus on one thought, on one idea - the title fight. I’m gonna win. I’m gonna win, I keep telling myself. I better win. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I lost.

Then thoughts start snowballing through my mind, and before you know it, I’m on the ground breaking down. I am so angry and frustrated and pissed off. Why? Why did I feel this way? What’s wrong with me?

Through the tears, I hear a voice... one not of my own.

I DON’T KNOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, CARTER?

I pull at my hair and finish my... my breakdown.

I try to relax myself and stop the tears. I wipe at my eyes and try to shake out of it.

But, it doesn’t get better.

My heart starts racing harder and faster, with it my breath.

I get lightheaded and start to almost sway. My vision blurs, and right there and then I black out.

~~~

I  wake up with a nasty headache and get blinded from the sunlight. I see Caleb and Faye sitting there like regular Joe’s.

I start to get feeling back in my body and realize something is hold my arm.

“Reed, she’ll be fine. Seriously, she’s okay.” Caleb says.

Then I see Reed holding on to my left hand, kissing it. He looks so happy to see me awake. He almost looks like he was tearing. I slide out of his grasp.

I check out what I’m wearing - a hospital gown. Good enough, I think. I get up and leave. Everyone grabs their things and follows.

“Hey, you can’t just leave!” someone yells.

Who do they think I am? Do they think I actually care? My sole purpose right now is to get the fuck out of here. I don’t even know why I’m in here. Caleb and Faye both know I hate hospitals and have strict orders never to put me in one.

I’m almost to the door when someone tugs at my left arm. I turn around and see it’s security. I just shove him off and goes flying. Caleb rushes to go talk to him. Somehow his authority and title in the medical world slips him out of things.

Faye follows me and turns the car on and everyone gets in the car.

“What the hell, Carter?!” Reed yells.

I ignore him. I’m not in the mood for anything.

Faye tries to nicely and as politely as she can to talk him out of leaving me alone.

“Faye, as good as your intentions are. No, I won’t just stop talking to her.”

“Carter.. Baby. Please, talk to me.”

Ignore.

“Please.” He’s pleading now. He sounds desperate, but right now I have no sympathy. No feelings, but rage. I can no longer hold it in.

“NO, REED LEAVE ME ALONE. I DON’T WANNA TALK TO YOU.”

That shut him up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sink in his seat and shed a tear.

I had no... no sympathy. I didn’t feel bad about yelling at him. I felt this way. I knew I did... but at the pit of my stomach I knew I didn’t want to feel the way I did.