My name is Lies and I am 38 years old. All my life, I have dreamed of martial arts. Finally, at the age of 18, I joined a Thai boxing club. I trained every day but since then, I have had psychological problems.

Through training, I could accept myself more. I didn't like myself. I started taking painkillers (morphine) for the high feeling it gave me, and it made me more confident. I did this sport for years and felt better and better.

Until my trainer began to realize that something was wrong with me. My trainer was like the father I never had. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother is disabled and couldn't take care of three children, so I lived with my grandparents for many years. I missed parental love and felt rejected by both of them.

I didn't know what was wrong with me because nobody liked me. My trainer treated me as his own daughter. At the age of 25, my trainer admitted me to psychiatry for the first time for my addiction and emotional damage.

I underwent treatment for a year, but self-love did not come. At that time, I also felt abandoned by my trainer; I couldn't see that he was doing this to help me. After my hospitalization, I continued training and participating in competitions, but because I didn't like myself and lacked confidence due to being bullied all my life, both at school and work, I couldn't win a match.

My trainer would get very angry in my corner during fights because he knew I had more potential than I was showing in the matches. At some point, my trainer gave up on me because I kept relying on morphine. I then regained control, pursued a coaching diploma, and taught children and beginners for several years until I injured my back while working as a caregiver for older people in a hospital.

I trained, taught, and worked in the hospital. My back gave in, and since I had access to all sorts of medication at the hospital, I started stealing drugs at work to manage my pain. After years of living like this, they noticed that I had wrecked my back through training and work. I was 35 years old then. After 15 years of training, I had to give up my sport. They fused my spine with screws and plates.

I couldn't train anymore. My world collapsed because training was my life and my anchor. Since then, I've been admitted to a psychiatric hospital for 3 years due to my addiction and mental state. Things are getting better; there are days when I don't think about suicide because I've had those thoughts since I was 12.

When I was 13, I stood by train tracks to jump but didn't have the courage. I attempted suicide several times but never had the courage to end it. I was exhausted and had no love from anyone. But now things are improving, step by step. I know that if I hadn't trained, I might not be here now because of my morphine abuse.

Today, I've been off pain medication for 3 years and feel much better. Talking also helps a lot, as does getting support from counselors or people in similar situations.

Don't give up, everything will be okay! Meanwhile, it's been established that I have severe ADHD, an eating disorder, and OCD. But I continue to fight, even if it's not in the ring.

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