How the Simple Discipline of Karate Saved My Life

The importance of doing things that test you.

My school years were so miserable they pushed me to the brink. Some of the worst abuse came during PE (physical education) lessons. The changing rooms turned into a torture chamber. I had to stay on the side nearest the door for a quick getaway if the beatings got too bad. No salvation was waiting for me— none of the teachers cared.

Using the showers would have been reckless, but nowhere was safe. Despite my intimate knowledge of where to change, I was still assaulted regularly.

I remember being attacked after a tennis lesson. While one guy held me, the other beat my forearms with the metal edge of a racket. Each blow felt like my arm was on fire, and I yelped in pain. I was too scared to fight back, yet I didn’t want to scream too loud because that would have reduced my social standing even further.

The pain in my arm would ease in a few days. The mental effects would last a lifetime. Every time that racket hit the bone of my arm, my self-belief was crushed that bit further. My abuser was stripping me of my worth and emasculating me in front of everyone.

I’ve never felt so worthless.

I’d done nothing to deserve or provoke this beat down. I hadn’t even spoken to my tormentor. By that stage, my abuse was expected. Everyone had some insult or punch to throw at me.

I ran to tell the PE instructor what had happened. He told me to shut up and go away. The worst part wasn’t that no one was going to help me but that my abuser knew it in advance. He wasn’t scared and smirked at me as I reentered the changing room, resigned to my fate.

The turning point.

We all have our limits. When it comes to bullying and persistent abuse, most people do one of two things. They either turn their anger outward and hurt others or inward and hurt themselves.

I turned my anger inward. Every night, I’d go home and rage at my perceived weakness. Why couldn’t I fight back? Why couldn’t I have the most basic level of respect?

My parents took a stand at first — they went to my school and complained several times. But it never did any good, and their resistance fizzled out. My dad would rage at me for not defending myself. He worsened the situation, and I couldn’t confide in my mum because she’d tell him.

My great hope was college (a precursor to university here in the UK)—a chance to reinvent myself.

It quickly became more of the same. Sure, I wasn’t being battered with tennis rackets, but I was so lonely and socially inept that I used to eat my lunch in the toilets and wander the corridors between lessons to look busy and kill time.

At that point, I felt all hope had gone. I went home one night, took a knife into the bathroom, and collapsed on the floor. As I lay there wishing I was dead, I had a revelation. I had nothing to lose. I’d give life one last shot.

I vowed never to be bullied again, as it was now a matter of life and death. I knew what I was asking of myself. I wasn’t just stepping out of my comfort zone; I was tearing it to pieces.

I needed a plan. Changing the outside was easier than changing the inside, so I started there. I needed to be able to defend myself and become healthier — which would lead to more self-respect.

I decided to take up Karate.

The Karate years.

The first time I walked into a Karate Dojo taught me the most important lesson of my life. Here I was, deathly afraid of getting hurt, putting myself in a situation where I was likely to get hurt pretty often, but for an ample reward.

I’d started to learn the valuable lesson that the only way to deal with fear is to plow right through the middle of it. Here I was, looking one of my worst fears in the face and beckoning it on.

I felt the initial seeds of self-respect growing inside.

I quickly learned the basics. I started sparring with people better than me. My school abusers would be no match for these guys, and yet here I was, going toe to toe with them.

I was exchanging punches and kicks with them, and I realized that getting hit was no big deal. I trained at a tough club and fell in love with it. I was starting to become the person I’d always wanted to be.

Change in the real world didn’t come fast, but something miraculous happened. As I became better at Karate, I started walking taller. I began to look the world in the eye. I slimmed down and felt good about myself and my new fitness levels.

As my transformation took place, people started treating me better. People who knew of me from school said everything they had heard about me was wrong. Women started noticing me and stopped calling me ugly.

My inner transformation was being mirrored in my external world. Throughout my time at college and university, I was acknowledged by my peers as a tough guy. This may not seem like much, but to me, it was everything.

Others had accepted me, and I’d started to accept myself.

It was just after university ended that I obtained my black belt. I had friends, I’d fallen in love, I had a degree, and I had self-worth. And it all started with Karate.

What now?

I always thought I’d want to take revenge on my abusers. Back in those dark days, I fantasized about being a tough guy who would one day stand up for himself and beat his tormentors within an inch of their lives.

Yet now I was legitimately physically capable, this urge had left me. I’d stopped dwelling on them. If I allowed my tormentors to take up space in my mind, they’d still be winning.

If I went on a crusade for revenge, I wouldn’t be living up to my expectations, and I wouldn’t be acting in the spirit of Karate. It’d be the ultimate insult.

Instead, I’d use those experiences as fuel. They were the impetus to change my life.

The biggest lesson Karate taught me was the power and freedom that comes from pushing the comfort zone. Trying to stay inside my comfort zone had almost been the death of me, and now I was freer than I had ever thought possible because I’d stared fear in the eye and tackled it.

This lesson applies to all areas of our lives. Freedom lies on the other side of fear. The more you shy from what scares you and hide in a shrinking comfort zone, the more you wither and die inside.

Living a bold life is the only way to find happiness.

I discovered there are two types of pain. The pain that comes from trying to change your life for the better or the pain of regret.

At some point, we all have to choose.