I know wrestling is silly, and a lot of people look down on it, especially now a days, and I do have to say I don't agree with a lot of things WWE puts out, but look at it from my eyes:

Wrestling (done right) is modern day opera. Each match is the physicalization of the struggle between good and evil. In the beginning the evil character is a bit stronger, but not as fast, and not as clever. The good guy is constantly fighting up from the bottom, landing lucky blows here and there, but continually being cut off by the bad guy. Eventually his own ineptitude will push the bad guy to start cheating. In a long story arc, he may win several times by cheating, giving him reason for hubris, and bravado, until eventually he is vanquished by the good guy and sent sulking to the back. Good reigns triumphant.

Entrance music gives a capsulated introduction to each character and which side they're on.

In America, the expression of wrestling focuses on body motion and facial expressions. We see the grimaces of pain the good guy makes as he is brutalized, and we know what of himself he is sacrificing for what he believes is right. We want him to triumph in his struggle. The more difficult it is, the more satisfying his win because he has fought against so much for his achievement.

Mexican wrestling, on the other hand features characters more akin to superheroes. Since luchadors are usually masked (it is a sign of dishonor for a wrestler to fight unmasked) facial expressions don't come into play. Instead the underdog bears his punishment stoically, knowing that one day his chance will come to avenge the wrongs perpetrated on him by his opponent. Again and again we see him beaten to the ground, and again and again he gathers himself up to stand once more against the onslaught, until finally he turns the tide and vanquishes his enemy. We want him to succeed because of his stoic persistence against all odds.

Because wrestling focuses on story telling through movement rather than actual combat (as well as the fact that you live work and train with a rather small group of people year round) wrestlers tend to form very tight knit communities, but there is reminder of mortality in injuries, and its hard to maintain close ties when you're not actively involved in traveling to shows, working out in the ring or in the gym, and tirelessly self promoting.

When I was 19 I left my home state for the first time in my life, moved 1200 miles away from friends and family to a city I was completely unfamiliar with, and staked everything on a crazy dream. My BF at the time came with me, and we planned to build a life together. He was unprepared for the reality of our situation, and we officially separated at Christmas, and he moved back to our home state leaving me alone, nearly broke, and largely friendless. I threw everything I had into study and training.

It payed off as well as it could in a town crippled by the folding of WCW, and when my training center finally folded due to financial concerns I struck out for Los Angeles, where I was lucky enough to get work with several promotions, including one where I got to play the good guy for the first time.

My last show was at the Grand Olympic here, where I was afforded an entrance to the cheers of an estimated 5,000 people. Young girls came up after the show asking for autographs, telling me they were so excited to see a woman who could hold their own with the guys. That they were so delighted to finally realize it was ok to be a strong woman.

And less than two months later it was all over. I was in the ER strapped to a backboard with IV tubes in my feet because there wasn't enough of my arm left in one piece to reasonably find a vein. Twenty four stitches and some 12 hours later they let me out, but warned that there was a good chance my skin was too damaged and I might need grafts.

Luckily the skin healed, but I lost all the tissue underneath before the muscle, and I was a deformed and mangled mess.

In short order I was dumped by many of my promotional clients, and all the companies I had been modeling for.

Once stitches came out and I finished my three months of intensive physical therapy, I tried to get back into the ring, but soon found that repeated impact seemed to exacerbate the entrapped nerve I inherited from the debacle, and I was terrified of completely losing control of my hand and arm.

So I waited. I consulted with doctors, and I explored surgical options, hoping against all reason that 70% would somehow change to 100% and I'd be pain free as I was before the accident, instead of the functional cripple I am today.

It didn't.

It won't.

And I don't think I can take any more surgeries at this point.

So its over. Its something I dedicated a large portion of my life to, and an even larger portion of my heart to, and it was taken from me by one single careless driver who wanted to get home so badly that he didn't even stop after hitting me with the trailer of his semi-truck. Its a hard thing to come to terms with.