Nine Years On: Lessons the Ring Couldn’t Teach Me 👩‍🏫

Hey everyone, and welcome back to my blog!

I thought I’d take some time to write this week while I’m dog sitting — which basically means I’ve finally got a bit of quiet time (and a cup of tea that hasn’t gone cold for once).

It’s been nine years since I first stepped into the boxing ring and won the national title. Nearly a decade of hard work, sacrifice, sweat and discipline that completely changed who I was. Boxing taught me a lot, from strength, respect and resilience but life had a few lessons of its own. Lessons no amount of training could prepare me for.

This post isn’t about fights or titles. It’s about what happened when the gloves came off — the injuries, heartbreaks, breakdowns and the faith that slowly helped me piece everything back together. These are the lessons that came from struggle, not success.

So, if you’ve ever felt lost, broken or like you’re trying to rebuild from rock bottom — this one’s for you.

How It All Started

Boxing began as a way to tone up after losing six stone — just a bit of fitness to keep me busy. Little did I know it would take over my life completely.

Changing Clubs: Letting Go and Starting Fresh

Leaving a club is never easy. It’s like leaving family — people who know your strengths, your weaknesses and everything in between. But sometimes, what once lifted you up can start to drag you down. The environment turned toxic, I knew it was taking a toll on my mental health.

Moving on was hard, but deep down I knew it was time. I had to do what was right for me.

Injury and the Year Away

The injury that stopped me training and competing for a year hit harder than any punch I’ve ever taken. My body had no choice but to stop, even though my mind wouldn’t switch off. That forced break — lonely and frustrating as it was — made me realise who I was without boxing.

I couldn’t train or compete for a whole year, which messed with my head. And just when I was finally ready to come back — Covid hit. Like for everyone else, everything just stopped.

Getting the All Clear

When the doctors finally said I could train again, I thought I’d feel excited. Instead, I was scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared I wasn’t the same anymore.

By then, I’d gained weight through emotional eating and not being active. My body dysmorphia kicked in full force, I felt like I’d lost control of everything that used to make me me.

Depression, Anxiety & PTSD

Behind the gloves, I was falling apart. I couldn’t understand how someone who’d fought in a ring could feel so weak in everyday life. Depression, anxiety and PTSD became daily battles I couldn’t fight my way out of.

At one point, I didn’t want to be alive anymore. Boxing had given me purpose — and without it, I felt like I had nothing left. Of course, I had family and friends, but it didn’t fill the hole that boxing left.

Healing started when I finally stopped running from it. When I sat with the pain, stopped pretending and faced what I was feeling. My mental strength was tested more than ever, the hardest fight I’ve ever had.

The Toxic Job: Walking Away

There’s nothing worse than staying in a job that eats away at you. I told myself to “be grateful” and “just get on with it,” but every day it was breaking me down.

I used to feel sick every morning before work, wishing the bus would just break down so I didn’t have to go in. I stayed because I had bills to pay — I told myself “no one likes their job” just to get through.

Eventually, I knew something had to give. After a few rejections, I finally landed a new job that made me so much happier.

If you’re in a toxic workplace — get out. Life’s too short to be miserable every day. No job is worth your mental health.

The Toxic Relationship: Losing and Finding Myself

I stayed in a relationship that broke me down bit by bit. When it ended, I felt like I’d lost everything — but really, I was just finding myself again.

For years, I let people treat me badly because that’s all I thought I deserved. But heartbreak taught me that you’ve got to love yourself first. I used to think I needed someone else to make me happy — but it turns out, I was capable of doing that all along.

Being single taught me independence, strength and that sometimes being on your own is exactly what you need.

Rock Bottom and the Turning Point

There came a point where I truly didn’t want to be here anymore. I’d lost the sport I loved, the relationship I relied on and the version of myself I thought I was.

Then came the PCOS and diabetes diagnoses during Covid — another huge blow. It felt like my whole world was falling apart. But that was the moment I realised something had to change.

I started small — creating my blog to help others going through similar situations, cutting out sugar, going to the gym three times a week and just trying to make better choices. Slowly, I started to feel like me again. It wasn’t about bouncing back overnight; it was about rebuilding, one day at a time.

Only I Could Save Myself

No one was coming to fix my life — I had to do it myself. That was scary, but also empowering. Every small choice added up.

I started exploring spirituality, meditation and crystals. It helped me find peace and understand myself better. I learned that healing isn’t about going back — it’s about moving forward.

Speaking My Truth

Telling the truth and standing up for myself was scary, but it set me free. I stopped letting people manipulate me or make me feel small.

I’d always put others before myself, and it left me burnt out and broken. I had to learn to speak up — for me and for others. That’s why I became a coach: to be the person I never had.

It wasn’t easy, but I refused to stay silent any longer.

Finding Faith

When I hit my lowest point, I found faith — or maybe faith found me. It wasn’t about religion; it was about learning to let go and trust something bigger than myself.

Praying helped lift the weight off my shoulders. When I felt completely alone, I realised I wasn’t — God was listening.

I found comfort in spirituality, crystals and learning to enjoy my own company. I stopped being afraid of being alone and started putting myself first — something I’d never really done before.

Coming Back Through Kickboxing

When I got back into combat sports through kickboxing, it wasn’t to prove anything — it was to reconnect with who I am. This time, it wasn’t about titles or winning. It was about healing, finding my balance again and meeting new people.

Boxing will always have my heart, but it also carries some painful memories. Kickboxing gave me a fresh start. The techniques were new and strange at first, but I adapted quickly.

I’ve got a long way to go, but I know one thing for sure — I’m not giving up. I never want to look back and regret not trying again. No matter how many times I am knocked down, I will always get back up.

Living with Body Dysmorphia

Body dysmorphia is something I still deal with every day. Some days I see strength; other days I don’t like what I see at all. But I’m learning to appreciate my body for everything it’s been through.

Self-care helps — whether it’s doing my hair, going for a walk, or treating myself to something small. I’m not at my best yet, but I’m getting there. Every day is part of the journey.

Balancing Work, Life, and Training

Life doesn’t slow down — not for healing, not for training, not for anything. Trying to balance work, responsibilities and training isn’t easy, but I do my best.

I like having a routine. Monday to Saturday, I train — a mix of kickboxing, running, weights and walks. Sunday is rest day. Keeping that balance helps me stay grounded and spend time with the ones I love.

I’ve also learned that I don’t have to train nonstop. My job, family and mental health come first. When I’m happy, I perform better — simple as that.

Nine Years On

If these nine years have taught me anything, it’s that the ring was never the real fight — life was.

I miss boxing, but I’ve learned that strength isn’t just in how hard you hit — it’s in how you heal when life knocks you down.

Strength is choosing to get back up when you’d rather stay down.

It’s walking away from what hurts you, even when it breaks your heart.

It’s starting over as many times as it takes to find peace.

Nine years on, I’m not the same fighter I used to be — and I’m proud of that. The ring made me strong, but life made me real.

Talking about mental health as a fighter is so important. No amount of success or money can protect you from those battles — just look at Tyson Fury or Ricky Hatton. Being open and honest saves lives. Don't ever stay silent, people care. A problem shared is a problem halved!

Thanks for reading and being part of my journey, it's been a rollercoaster but get ready for more to come!

Chloe x