The other evening, I posted a somewhat cryptic Facebook status about not owning a Jiu Jitsu gym if you’re an empath, because your heart will break every time that someone leaves. I was just in my feelings temporarily, not really thinking about one specific instance, and decided to vent online (I don’t know why, is Mercury in retrograde or something?) Surprisingly enough, I was then inundated with countless comments from other gym owners about how much they could relate to this “sucky” aspect of it all. I really do love my job, and my business, but there is a huge down side when it comes to emotions. We put so much of ourselves into the gym and into our students, that if one day, they stop showing up, it kills. Sometimes, people move away, which is understandable but there still ends up being a longing in your heart for them as you grieve their presence. Sometimes, people deceptively leave for a different gym, and depending on the circumstances, can be a betrayal that cuts you deep to your core. And then other times, people are excelling, and showing so much potential, and then one day they just discontinue all their training. No matter how many times any of those instances occur (and luckily, leaving for other gyms is pretty rare), it pains me every single time. I don’t think it ever gets easier to see someone leave.
Jiu Jitsu is hard y’all, and primarily why I say it has the potential to be for everyone, but it is simply not for everyone. Some people are not into it, and that’s okay. But the worst thing for me to see is when someone who has shown so much growth and potential, seems to really enjoy all aspects of it, and quits when the going gets tough. It’s usually either the white belt that is training like crazy nonstop, and excelling like mad, and then they hit a few bumps in the road and slowly start dwindling down until one day you just never see them again. Or it’s the blue belt that lives up to every stereotype of the blue belt blues, and quits shortly after their promotion. (I am assisting in promoting some of my friends to blue belt on Friday, and I swear if they leave, my heart will never mend itself). Trust me, I remember when I got my blue belt, and thinking that I finally knew Jiu Jitsu, only to realize I was pretty much a 5th degree white belt, still a small female, many people had been going easier on me previously, and I would still get smashed. Hell, even now as a black belt, I am still getting smushed in certain rolls. My knowledge and possession of skills is there, though my strength and size is not. There is only so big of a deficit you can combat with those outliers. But I know that every time I show up, I get better whether it feels like that or not (because many times, you do feel like you’re getting worse, though it’s just your mind playing tricks on you), and I am also becoming a better person, forced to grow through adversity as well; per aspera ad astra.
We all have ego, every single one of us. No matter how many reiterations there are of leaving your ego off the mats, all of us have a smattering of pride that is difficult to quell. Unfortunately, if you let these things eat away at you, it can become overwhelming, especially if you expect yourself to “win” against certain people on the mats nonstop. Then, you realize you’re human, and younger, stronger, more fit and athletic people with lesser ranks seem to be relentlessly besting you and it demoralizes you. Soon, you’re justifying not going to class, and then it becomes easier to not go the more and more that you miss. Finally, it gets to the point where you want to go back, but you fear embarrassment from all the time you have spent away and now harbor shame of feeling unworthy of your rank. And not to trivialize the aches and pains that come with the sport, but I have found there are always work-arounds to things we want to protect, and that often times we facilitated going “too hard” in the first place. I guess what I’m saying is, if you really wanted to, you would find ways to continue. People at the gym train through a multitude of things, including injuries, pregnancy, life struggles, etc. It’s just our ego that inhibits us and starts dimming the light on the enjoyment we get from the sport. I have been there many times, and even now I still have these ebbs and flows, but I am so happy to be the person that keeps showing up.
Maybe this entire blog is irrevocably selfish of me. Why should I care what people decide to do with their lives, regardless of how much time and effort I have invested in them? I guess because the vast majority of school owners and BJJ instructors do this for the love of the sport and the commitment to really want to help and impact the lives of others. Few of us, if any, are getting rich or gaining notoriety for what we do. In fact, many times we are losing money and definitely sacrificing time with our families by being at the gym at all hours of they day and traveling to competitions. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing the growth of our students in the gym, and knowing how much hard work and effort they have put in, and watching them succeed in competition and in life. I inevitably build bonds with anyone who has been there for any significant amount of time. Now, all of a sudden you’re not going to come anymore? Or heck, even leaving to go somewhere else when I have watched my own husband travel all over the country, with money from his own pocket, just to be there to support and coach someone. Hell, to this day, anyone when anyone who has left the gym and then accomplishes something in life that they post about online, you know where 95% of the congratulatory comments come from? Schell Shock members. I have never met more supportive, and welcoming people my whole life. Literally living up to our motto ‘Not All Family Is Blood.’
It’s hard to care so much, especially when many times it is a thankless position. There is no ‘gym instructors of a BJJ dojo week.’ We don’t do it for the pats on the back, but because it means so much to us instead. I know so many upper belts who refuse to learn the names of the newer students now, not because they think they are beneath them, but because it hurts them so much when they discontinue their training and stop showing up. It’s not just the owners and instructors who are hurt by this, but many of the long-time students too. Your presence is always felt and your absence is sorely missed. I know I can’t force people to stay in the sport just because I value their presence and will be hurt if they leave, but I can try my best to ensure they feel included and appreciated. Since running this gym both behind the scenes and on the mats is my full-time job, I understand that my stakes in Jiu Jitsu is different than the vast majority, so I probably am putting too much stock in people’s absences, and getting my feelings unnecessarily hurt watching potential dissipate from being in the gym. I care, I really do, and I want the best for everyone who walks through our doors. Even when things become difficult, I hope you still keep showing up. If life gets in the way, I always hope you come back and know that we are there for you. I want to do my best to ensure I am facilitating an environment of kind, strong, and helpful individuals who know that this sport is so much more than just a name or an accolade, but a camaraderie and a team. Most importantly, I hope you know that we truly are like family, and would go to the ends of the earth to support you, train you, coach you, and be there for you. Always.
