My Journey with ‘Fight Love’
You know, people throw around words like ‘passion’ and ‘dreams’ all the time. But for me, this whole ‘fight love’ thing became real, like, super real, a few years back. It wasn’t about romantic love, not the hearts-and-flowers kind, anyway. It was about loving something so much you’d fight tooth and nail for it, even when it felt like fighting yourself, or everyone around you.
So, what was this big ‘love’ I had to fight for? Well, I got completely hooked on restoring old radios. Not just listening to them, but taking these dusty, broken boxes from flea markets and bringing them back to life. It started as a small curiosity, then bam, it consumed me. I’d spend hours upon hours in my garage, which quickly started looking less like a place to park a car and more like an electronics workshop from the 1940s. Tubes, wires, soldering iron smells – that was my world.
The Early Days – Pure Joy, Then the Grind
At first, it was all pure excitement. That amazing feeling of figuring something out, of hearing static turn into music from a machine older than my grandpa. Simple joys, right? I’d get a beat-up Philco, work on it for weeks, and when it finally crackled to life, I’d feel like a wizard. But then, as I wanted to tackle more complex restorations, things got tougher.
That’s when the ‘fight’ part really kicked in. My friends, my family, they mostly meant well, I think. But I’d hear things like:
- “Still messing with those old things? When are you going to get a normal hobby?”
- “You spend so much time on that, it’s not like it’s making you any money.”
- “You’re always in that garage, we never see you anymore.”
And yeah, maybe they had a point. My social life definitely took a hit. My day job, the one that actually paid the mortgage, started feeling like just a chore, something I had to endure until I could get back to my soldering iron and schematics – my real passion, my love.
The Internal Battle Was the Worst
But honestly, the comments from others were a walk in the park compared to the battle raging in my own head. Doubt. Man, that thing is a beast. I’d stare at a complicated circuit, totally stumped, and think, “This is just junk. What am I even doing? Who am I kidding, trying to fix this?” I’d see other restorers online, guys who made it look so easy, and just feel like a complete amateur. I almost quit, seriously, probably a dozen times. I’d shove a half-finished radio into a corner, swearing I was done with it, done with all of them.
I clearly remember this one Saturday. I was working on this beautiful old Zenith tabletop, and I just couldn’t trace this awful hum. I swapped tubes, replaced capacitors, checked every connection, hours and hours. Nothing. I got so frustrated I actually slammed my fist on the workbench. Just sat there, surrounded by parts, feeling completely defeated. My wife walked in then, saw the look on my face, saw the mess, and just quietly asked if I was okay. That was a real low point. It felt like this ‘love’ for old radios was making me miserable and pushing away the people I actually loved.
Finding a Way to Keep Fighting (and Loving)
So, what pulled me out of that nosedive? How did I keep going? It wasn’t some magic moment or a flash of genius. It was a series of small things, small shifts. I started lurking on some online forums for vintage radio nuts. Just reading, at first. Then I asked a question. And people answered! Helpful people, who’d been through the same frustrations. Realizing I wasn’t the only one who wanted to throw a radio across the room sometimes, that was a game-changer. Seeing their dedication, their own fights with stubborn electronics, it kind of lit my fire again.
I also had to change how I thought about ‘success’. It wasn’t about perfectly restoring every single radio, or becoming some famous expert. It became about the process itself, the challenge, the learning. The love for the craft, for the history in those wooden cabinets. I started to see the ‘fight’ not as this big, awful enemy, but as part of what it means to care about something deeply. You fight for it, you wrestle with it, because it matters that much to you.
I also had to get smarter about managing it all. I couldn’t just disappear into the garage for entire weekends anymore. I started setting actual times for it. “Okay, Saturday afternoon is radio time.” And I made sure to spend quality time with my family, with my wife. It’s still a balancing act, always a bit of a fight to keep things in check, but it’s a fight I can manage now.
Where I Am Now
So, did I ‘win’ this fight love thing? I don’t think it’s about winning or losing. I’m still tinkering with old radios. My garage is still a glorious mess, but a more organized one. I’m definitely better at it than I was. I’ve brought quite a few old beauties back from the brink, and some of them sit in my living room, playing old tunes. They’re not perfect, but they’re mine, and they work because I fought for them.
The ‘love’ for it? Still burning bright. And the ‘fight’? Well, it’s still there, every time I hit a snag or a new challenge. But it feels different now. It’s not an enemy anymore. It’s more like a tough old friend, the kind that pushes you to be better. And you know what? All that struggle, all those frustrating moments, they’ve made the satisfaction even sweeter. It’s not some easy, breezy love. It’s a love that’s been through the wringer, got some solder burns and a few shocks along the way. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. It taught me a ton about patience, about not giving up. So yeah, ‘fight love’. It’s not just a cool phrase; it’s been a big part of my story.
