Today, I am a soon to be 42 year old woman. I have been in martial arts of some description one or another since I was 8 and it has always held a place in my soul that is indescribable. It started with karate as a child, something my mum put me into to gain confidence for being ‘shy’ (later identified to be Selective Mutism). It did this, I loved training, loved being able to be my own best self. However, growing up in a strict culture with specific gender roles, made it tough too. I was the only girl for a long time, and saw many girls start and stop. I was thrown out of my comfort zone when we moved from Namibia to South Africa, finding it also difficult to find anywhere to train. Finding dojos even more so one sided, or specific about gender. Opportunities were few and far between. I found the move hard, it was my first time in English school, I was the odd kid out and my training had become so difficult, being I could not find an accessible dojo. Throwing myself instead in multiple art forms, before landing in a local karate club again. Then came the dreaded immigration to New Zealand, where within a week, I was back in training, but in a new country and new school. I was a quiet teenager, with a massive identity crisis, and accent which meant I became a target. I realized that beating everyone into a mess of blubbering tears would serve me in the long run. I started being able to realize my own mind, my lows, my isolation- and a planned attempt that was only stopped because my parents came home early. Yet it was not talked about, no talking about depression, suicide or what it means to survive. It was difficult in training too, between dojos (being an open minded trainee, I trained different art forms) and not being the typical athletic body. It meant certain opportunities just sort of never happened. High school finished being far less with a bang than I had anticipated, and as it turns out for all my grand plans. Life was hard. My depression was heavy, my social anxiety not improving, and with this came the route of self-medication. Pretty soon I was down the road of addiction. It was here for the first time, I stepped away from my training. It was a wild and crazy time, my 20’s flew by in a haze. In the throws of being in violent situations, addictions and loss so heavy no human should live through it. Then came the getting clean, therapy and huge heavy loads of mental health that I had run from for as long as I had. It was during this time that I attempted suicide twice more, not succeeding and realising how difficult surviving is. How little the world talks about it. Yet through it all, I found myself back in a dojo, in the gym getting back to what I was and as it turns out always will be. I had been humbled by life, grief and pain, and yet it was Martial arts that saved me. It was growing and developing my club that saved me, even though it had also brought challenges. My fight story always remained the same. I am still fighting, still training and still teaching, in all aspects of life.
Photo by Christopher Campbell on Unsplash