Cutting weight blows. I miss carbs. Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic with the results, but I would definitely rather have my pizza and donuts than my celery and water. Only someone who truly has a dream and a passion for fighting would put themselves through this. I’ve already planned my meals for afterwards and I am beyond excited for some mouthwatering delectable treats. And whiskey (go ahead and judge me fam.) Girls get hangry, that’s a fact. So please bare with me if it looks like I’m on the verge of tears at any moment. I am truly grateful for the opportunities I have been given and I will never take it easy in any aspect on the road to achieving my goals, but I am only human and I suffer bouts of sadness like the rest of us. I work a full time job, pretty much train full time, and use any “free time” to try and maintain some order in the house with food and dishes and laundry etc. If overwhelmed had a picture in the dictionary, my face would be plastered right along side it, all haggard in appearance and resembling a baggy eyed gremlin at best. Moment of silence for all the excellent concealer creams out there, you the real MVP.
When people follow me on social media, they see the successes and achievements and photos of my best angles and happy memories. They don’t see me dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 am and pushing myself to failure at training, driving an hour long commute in heavy traffic to work, slaving over my desk to reach quotas and crunch numbers, counting calories, burning excess fat, chugging gallons of water a day so I pee approximately 53 times, pushing myself again at training in the evening, getting things situated at the house, and finally crashing in bed where I usually end up tossing and turning throughout the night for a restless sleep for lack of a better word, only to lather, rinse, and repeat the following morning. On top of that, it doesn’t make it any easier when you slip up and receive backlash, verbal berates on your character or work ethic, or even dismissive reactions from those you care about. Punch me in the face all day until I swell up, turn purple, or bleed, but break my heart one time and it takes me much longer to dig myself out of that hole of sadness. I could give a flying fart what some stranger says cruelly on the internet because people will hate on you regardless and I don’t put any value in the trolling of some nameless stranger, but if I love you and care about you and you hurt my feelings, I feel like literal trash. Not even the gold, glittery garbage, but the forlorn and forgotten littering seepage no one bothers to clean up.
I try not to let things get to me. But when your carb deprived and low on sleep, the task becomes all that much more arduous. They see the smiling snapchats and bold-faced selfies. They don’t see the tears I release in the car during my commutes (aka my crying time) or the depression I feel weighing on my chest when I don’t surpass some of the ridiculous standards I bequeath for myself. I always tell myself if I don’t break down a few times during a fight camp, than I’m not working hard enough. But how healthy is that really? I can’t be the only one who never feels like they’re good enough. And that has nothing to do with fighting. Because I know when I step into that cage, I’ve prepared myself for war. I will never question whether the person in front of me could have possibly trained harder because I already know the answer. I will not be outworked. I will die before I concede (please check out this quick clip from Will Smith on this sentiment) and there is no greater devotion I can give than that. I just sometimes wonder if I’m good enough in life, and that is probably the hardest pill I can swallow. The messages I receive praising my accolades are awesome, but the ones I receive about people respecting my hustle or positive outlook mean more to me than I could ever describe and each of those messages helps me find the fuel to keep myself alight all that much longer.
If you have any friends or family members who fight, please cut us the occasional slack. We are hungry, we are beat up physically and mentally, we are sore, we are exhausted, but we are passionate and we are driven. I will do whatever I can to make my teammates, coaches, friends and family proud. But most of all, I will do whatever it takes to make myself proud. Sometimes we have rough days, but those are the days I will grit my teeth and keep going. I will triumph in public, I will cry in private, and I will fight tooth and nail for the top spot. The opposition may have more talent than me, more skills, more money, greater looks, a better physique etc., but they will never work harder than me. I may cry enough tears to overflow a river, but I will not concede. Fall down 9 times, stand up 10, and face whatever demons may be trying to pull me below the surface day in and day out. I will work harder at not letting depressive episodes affect me. The days I don’t want to get out of bed will be the days I cultivate myself into a champion by pushing through the downed moods and getting shit done. I may yell, scream, and cry, but I will not break.
I want to end this blog post on a positive note. I know I can’t be the only person out here who suffers with occasional negative thoughts that become exasperated tenfold during a weight cut and grueling fight camp. I want to hear anyone else’s experiences and how they cope. Most importantly, I want anyone who reads this to be considerate of those going through this ordeal or any other situation where they deal with a lot on their plate. I’ve learned to stop expecting things in return. I can only be the best version of myself and try to imprint on this Earth as a caring and loving human (who likes to obliterate limbs and faces), and hope I leave the world a better place simply because I was in it and I tried. Maybe one day people will see it, but I won’t let my happiness rely on the attitudes and reciprocations of others. My happiness is my sole responsibility and nothing makes me happier than going to battle inside a cage. We are all facing our own battles daily, and a true warrior is not the one who always wins, but the one who always fights. I’d rather die standing than to live kneeling. “Watch me. I will go to my own sun, and if I am burned by its fire, I will fly on scorched wings.” – Segovia Amil