Therapy Through Punching

Yesterday most of you (the followers, thank you) read I was in a dark place. Don’t let that past-tense fool you, I’m still there. What’s most important is that I’m still here. Living, breathing, trying to calm down.

Yet what helps me is my passion. My passion for boxing, which I wholeheartedly attribute my breakaway from addiction to. Now that I’m not fighting anymore, I coach, & I coach for free.

20 of the 24 hours of yesterday sucked ass. Yet, the four hours I spent volunteering my time to help build strength, stamina, & most importantly, self confidence, helped me more than it helped the boxers I was training.

I guess Anthony De Mello was right when he said every act, even a charitable one, is selfish. Look what I just said. It helped me. That’s not a bad thing necessarily if your perspective shines in a positive light. If the training didn’t help me, I wouldn’t be there to do it. Those individuals coming to learn wouldn’t have me as their coach. They wouldn’t get to see me perform in my now-natural environment. They wouldn’t be able to build their confidence like I did ten years back with boxing.

I’m here now outside of myself. I’m here for others. I haven’t given up on myself, but I’ve tried almost everything under the sun to break through my depressive disorder. It always comes back, sometimes (most of the time) more fierce than the last time. Yesterday I lashed out on my mother, lashed out on my father, & went to bed at 4 AM. I’m not OK, but I’m doing my damn best.

As my coach always said: Chin down, eyes up. (Keeps ya from getting knocked out.)

I wish you well. Try not to beat the shit out of yourself.