Thanks to conversations with my boss and a counselor about my severe burnout, several days off here and there for rest and rejuvenation, hormones starting to regulate so my suspected peri-menopausal symptoms aren’t as bad, and more days of actual honest to God decent sleep…I’m feeling better than I was when I wrote my last post.
Two of the five tenets of taekwondo are self-control and integrity. Humility is also a characteristic that is valued across several martial arts.
Take a shy kid at heart, combine her with martial artist humility and a smidge of imposter syndrome, and you get someone who isn’t very comfortable bragging on herself.
Like most children first learning how to ride a bike, I used training wheels. The more confident I became, the more I enjoyed riding my bike, within the parameters of the training wheels of course.
One day my dad was helping me ride my bike without training wheels. At first I was afraid I might fall. But in a seamless moment, my dad let go. The moment of joyously soaring down the driveway is etched into my memory. I felt like I could do anything. After that, I loved riding for miles with my brother and friends (it was the 1980s in rural West Texas, so riding bikes all over town was no big deal).
Sometimes all it takes for someone to soar is for their leader to let go.
Over the course of my career, people ranging from my dad to multiple bosses have asked, encouraged, and even pressured me to pursue leadership positions. Many seemed surprised or baffled at my aversion to it. Twenty years into my tenure at my company and nearly thirty years of being employed in some fashion, I can still say with confidence: NOPE.
Last Thursday was one of those taekwondo classes that makes you feel better inside and out. We had that perfect mix of students who take their sport seriously and are there to work hard, even the youngest ones. One younger student, a girl of about ten or eleven, was trying out our dojang for the first time. She had trained in kung fu, and for whatever reason, was looking for a new place to train. She kept up with us perfectly during movement drills and kicking practice. But the real magic happened when she did her form.
I’ve been doing some work with executives in my company, which requires me to get into a particular floor to access a particular conference room. Every time I go to a meeting, I have to wait in the hallway and hope someone sees me to let me in on time.
One day, my executive leader saw me from the interior window and let me in. She had a puzzled expression on her face.
“You can’t get in?” she said. “No,” I answered. In my head, I added, “I didn’t even try because I assumed I wouldn’t have access because I don’t belong here.”
My blog is TEN years old! Can you believe it? I began this project as a quiet way to document the life-changing insights I was having about a year into my taekwondo journey. I didn’t tell anyone about it for a few months. Since then it has grown to be a documentation of my journey to black belt and beyond, the inspiration for my 2021 book Kicking and Screaming: a Memoir of Madness and Martial Arts, and home to many guest articles from the larger martial arts world. The blog and the book have pushed me into talking openly about mental illness in the public space, which I’ve done on podcasts, in articles, and even in my workplace.
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my thoughts and to the other writers and martial artists who have contributed richness and diversity to the blog.
Guest writer Ashely Mann and her husband Josiah demonstrate a Jiu Jitsu technique.
I have been in the business of adult learning for nearly 15 years. I’m always interested to see how our experiences, whether they are related to martial arts, our professional life, or our relationships, help us learn. In this guest post Ashley Mann shares five things practicing Jiu Jitsu has taught her about the nature of learning. My personal favorite from her list: “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
If you would like to contribute a post to Little Black Belt, please review the guest writer guidelines here.
“I don’t have anything to prove anymore,” I thought randomly as I watched my reflection jog in time to the music in a recent Body Combat class. My feet stayed low to the ground, and my right knee was encased in a stretchy light brace since stomping on a hard gym floor doesn’t feel great for my mostly recovered leg.