OKnot2bOK

Work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work.

That’s all I have time for lately since diving head-first back into this profession that has already consumed my entire life. Live events at the CoolWear Center have been roaring right along, and we are really making an impact on the business. It’s such a cool experience to share the spotlight with my friends and family. My brothers have really come into their own as a tag team… and my big brother is… well… he’s a beast. Just this last week, I witnessed him gorilla press slam a man twice his size.

Don’t expect me to display the same feat of strength at Tuesday Night Sin when I take on Better Brandon. I’m still not sure what his last name… because I haven’t done any team-building exercises with my brandmates. All in due time, I suppose. I do know that Better Brandon is a textbook narcissist whose longevity in this business will be threatened weekly. Every loss will chip away at his soul until he quits… like he has quit everything in his life so far. Against me… he’s completely out of his league.

Better Brandon is in MY zone now… and I have my eyes set on the top prize on Sin. Two weeks ago, I stepped up to Khaos and never gave up. He lost control of his emotions and got the match thrown out. It must eat at him that he couldn’t really get the job done that night… but if Fate allows… he will have another opportunity to stop my ascension at Christmas Chaos. He made the bold claim that I am a fluke… and that will be proven false in time. Khaos walks the path of a coward… and that path will ultimately lead him nowhere. That is where we will meet again… when the time is right.

For now… my tunnel vision is on Better Brandon. He’s big… he’s bad… he’s bold… but does he have the intestinal fortitude to do what absolutely needs to be done when the cards are on the table? My well-educated guess is that he’s out of his league… and only pretending to belong in this business. Pretenders are a pet peeve of mine. I have given my soul to this craft… only to share a locker room with meatheads who are only interested in the spotlight. All the prayers in the world can’t protect him from the cold hand of Fate.

Something he must learn is that respect is earned in this line of work. From my limited knowledge of this man… due to his limited involvement in this business… I just don’t see a reason to blindly throw praise at this man. He tears others down while also wallowing that nobody likes him. He needs a calm, caring, guiding hand… and that job is perfect for yours truly. Is he truly deserving of my attention? That remains to be seen. What I do know… without a morsel of a doubt… is that I will not back down to any challenge.

Yes, I admit that Better Brandon IS a challenge. I am not blind to the unknown. This man is barely tested and could present any number of unknown dangers to the longevity of my career. Like everyone else… I am on borrowed time. Every match has the potential to be my last match. Every opponent could be the one to end it all for me. But I have overcome insurmountable odds in the past… and will continue to do so until I can no longer do so. Better Brandon could be the one to get the job done… and I don’t doubt he will try his best… but I feel in my bones that his best is just… not… enough.

I know all-too-well what it’s like to be just not enough. Growing up with a single mom, I worried about not being enough to keep her around… as I wasn’t enough to keep my dad around. When my mom married my step-dad, I worried about not being as good of a daughter as his own. When they had twin sons, I worried about not being the baby anymore. A few years later, my mother passed away… and I worried about not living up to the potential she saw in me. All through my teen years, I suffered serious panic attacks. I didn’t want to burden my family with my problems… and now I feel alone in my head.

For years, I have suffered from dreams so vivid that I felt they could only come from Fate itself. One such dream last spring foretold the burial of my husband. I didn’t speak a word of it, because I didn’t want to look weak. Then… four months later… he was buried alive in a wrestling match on pay-per-view. Had I told spoken up about my dream… mayhaps it wouldn’t have become a reality. We could have had more backup to keep him safe from those soulless thugs. Now… as much as I trust Fate to guide my life… we had a falling out that day. I couldn’t believe that it would be so cruel to me… with all of myself invested in it. And yet… fifteen months later… I remain alone.

Sure… I have my family. My dad… brothers… sister… and my dear, sweet daughter. She is what tethers me to this mortal plane. She is what grounds my sanity and gives me hope for a better tomorrow. When I look in her eyes… I see her father staring back at me. It’s hauntingly beautiful. One day… I hope she understands why I am the way that I am… and I hope her mental state is more like her father’s than my own. I’m not okay… and it’s high time I say it out loud. It’s okay not to be okay. When you’re down and you feel ashamed… it’s okay not to be okay.