My body is deteriorating at a rapid rate. I’ve crunched bones, torn ligaments, fractured disks, sprained joints, concussed myself, swelled up my skin, dislocated body parts, and spilled my own blood more times than I can count. But I don’t quit. I don’t stop. Either I am exceptionally stupid, or I’m woefully stubborn. Either way, I’m on a perilous journey that will either make me or break me. The physical pain is noticeable; the mental anguish is much more debilitating. We feel betrayed by our bodies for not keeping up with our rigorous training and sulk into obscurity when something hurts too much to continue. Only someone who has a true passion for this sport will continue to push past their limits every day and ignore the little voice in their head begging them to relinquish their dreams. This life is not for the weak minded. As toiling as it is, I have ingrained in myself a dream, and it is a dream that I will pursue despite the setbacks thrown to impede path. There are days when I am so sore, bruised, and broken that I want nothing more than a 15 hour coma to recuperate with sleep and reinvigorate myself or to cry until my chest heaves with the sobs of a damaged individual. If I’m truly injured, then yes, I will rest. But 95% of the time, it is a mental hindrance rather than a physical limitation. Those who actively compete in this sport will always be plagued by constantly nagging aches and pains and never feel quite 100%, but we learn to shut that little negative voice up and persevere regardless.
In November 2016, I got out of a toxic relationship that ended in a violent and dangerous manner, lost my job, and had nowhere to live all within weeks of each other. Just when I thought things could not possibly get any worse, a few weeks later in January I suffered a freak accident in training. I had complete tears on my ACL, my MCL, and my meniscus as well as fracturing my patella and dislocating my knee cap. The pain was excruciating, but the depression I sunk into was so much worse. I felt my world crashing down around me and my dreams slipping through the cracks, like watching a handful of sand you grab fall through the fingers of your clutched fist. The tighter I held on, the faster it cascaded through the gaps. The road to recovery seemed so daunting and ominous that I thought my fight career was over before it even really truly began. This would make my 5th knee surgery and it was the most reconstructive one I would need. My saving grace during this pivotal low point was the generosity from my friends (who organized a meal service while I healed), my family’s support, and the new relationship I had began with someone who was more perfect for me than anyone could hope to have. I still stand by the fact that John gives the best sponge baths to this day in case any one out there knows of any nursing homes hiring for bedside service.
Months of rehabilitation and watching from the sidelines took place. Months where I felt so limited in my progress and exasperated at the slow recovery process. I became quick to anger I cried a lot. It wasn’t fair but it was life. Sorry to those of you who put up with my crankiness and irritability during this time. I was so frustrated at not being able to do what I love that I took it out on those around me which isn’t right. My peachy attitude would have made anyone who didn’t truly love me prefer to be tossed into Dante’s Inferno for eternal damnation than to have to put up with me for one more second. Then finally, I began to heal and fine tune my skills, even earning my purple belt in BJJ. Against my doctor’s wishes, I took a fight before he cleared me because I was entirely too eager to step back into the cage; the only place where I felt like I truly belonged. I was in so much pain the entire fight and I suffered the only MMA loss in my career after going the distance. I limped around another few weeks after feeling like I let everyone down again. Once again, I was a failure, but this time I would take my time and act out of preparedness instead of rashness. Back to rehab and much more focused and patient this time around, I was working harder than ever before. My knees felt great. Almost a year to the date of my injury, I took another fight on 12 days notice against a much bigger opponent who was undoubtedly the toughest fighter I had yet to face. And I won unanimously in a dominant slug fest. No knee pain and no excuses. I am back, better than ever before and hungry for my title shot.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find anyone willing to step up and challenge me for the belt this time around. At 116 lbs, I was looking to compete at 105 lbs for day before weigh-ins and only 115 for day of weigh ins. Turns out, many people prefer the advantage of being the much larger person in a weight class and I had multiple people back out of this opportunity. But I have faith, and I do believe I will find a willing opponent and I will emerge victorious. Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to situations and circumstances. Our attitude determines whether we let an incident define us or whether we learn to adapt and grow. My knees may be more screwed than a Russian porn star, but they will no longer hold me back. I worked too hard and have rehabilitated too well to ever become weak again.
Cheers to those of you out there facing setbacks in life, whether personal or physical. We are not our failures and we are more than our successes. I may fall down 9 times, but I will stand up 10. I choose perseverance. I choose resiliency. I choose to conquer. Although my body may hurt from time to time, it will never compare to the pain I would endure if I chose to quit this journey. My effervescence may permanently be intertwined with the cinnamon pungency of Tiger Balm, but it beats out the lingering scent of defeat any day of the week. History remembers the go-getters, the risk takers, and the warriors who refuse to back down. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. I believe in myself and my willpower won’t ever waver again. Despite the crooked fingers, bent toes, scarred skin, caluiflowered ears, metal screws, calcified joints and other gnarled features, I will fight until there is nothing left. “Strength does not come from incapacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” – Gandhi.
