A Story on Change: How Showing Up for Yourself Can Make a Difference

Yesterday was a good day in the grand scheme of things. I got up early for a run to start my day. I didn't spill my coffee. I watched Rachel and Dave Hollis' live on Instagram (albeit a little later than actually watching live). I worked on two products for TPT. I ordered a birthday present for a dear friend. I ran some errands. I got my glasses fixed. I was productive.

Then I went to boxing. Now y'all, boxing is my saving grace most days. It has been such an incredible space that allows me to tackle mental health struggles through my physical health. Boxing is almost euphoric for me.

But I'm currently at this weird place of change in my life. And for those who don't know me personally, I handle change about as well as a cat handles being placed in a bathtub full of water... which basically means I'm not graceful and I try to avoid change whenever possible. But sometimes we find ourselves in a place of change by chance and we gotta get through it.

I've been doing quite well. I've been taking care of my physical health by running and boxing and drinking ALL the water. And those endorphins y'all, they help tremendously with emotional/mental health.

So here I am driving on my way to boxing, getting frustrated at the radio because they are playing nothing that helps get you in the mood for boxing -- mind you, I keep a Linkin Park CD in my car stereo at all times for this exact reason. But here I am flipping through all the stations when I land on an early 2000s song that feels like a punch in the gut. I didn't even hear a full line of words before the tears started and there was nothing I could do about it. And since I'm a glutton for punishment, I let the song play out.

And instead of allowing that song that take me to a place of frustration at the correct thing -- the cause of all the pain and the immediate tears -- instead of doing that, the normal thing... I got angry at the world. "I was having such a good day. I was on my way to one of my favorite places in the world. I was supposed to be getting pumped up, but instead here I am crying. How in the world am I supposed to go to boxing now?" Oh that inner monologue went on for some time -- it lasted the rest of the car ride to boxing. As fate would have it, I was a tad bit early. So I told myself that I needed to change my thoughts and get it together before boxing. I turned on the Linkin Park CD and let 3 pretty angry songs play before I decided I could go inside.

Boxing is a solstice for me. I don't count the rounds because I usually too busy throwing punches that count. I don't know how much time is left because I'm tired but refuse to convince myself it's okay to stop early. I don't quit during the warm-ups, the rounds, the active rest, or the core work after, because I have told myself that they are all important and that I am worth showing up for.

But last night, I felt every single second of those first three rounds. I watched the clock more times last night than in all the other times I've been to boxing total. I felt sick to myself and was trying to come up with an excuse to quit. I was tired and wanted to be done. But then that little fighter, who lives inside my head said, "you have 5 more rounds. Are you gonna quit? Or are you gonna get it together and go for a win? It's all up to you. But think about how good you'll feel knowing you finished this, even when it was hard."

So I took an extra drink of water between the third and fourth rounds. I pulled off my gloves and tightened my ponytail. I took a deep breath and said let's do this. And I did.
The next thing I knew, it was the end of the seventh round and there was only one more to go. I felt 6000 times better than I had during the first 3 rounds and my only regret was that I hadn't fought harder during those.

I'm not sitting here writing this hoping that you'll all magically want to take up boxing. Although that would be pretty cool! I'm writing it so that people who have decided that my life is easy, will understand that every day is a constant battle.

I'm writing it in hopes that people without any mental illness will better understand that anxiety, and depression, look different for every one AND that they look different during different seasons of life. Change is hard. But that doesn't mean it is impossible. Focus on something consistent, like I do with boxing, because even if that "something consistent" is difficult, it's familiar.

You are worth your happiness. You are worth your best self. You are worth showing up for.

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