Life Changes After Being A Professional Athlete... How You Handle It Is Vital To Your Well Being.

My last boxing match was on November 1st, 2019. It’s hard to believe that it’s been over four years since my last fight, but it’s been one hell of a time to reflect upon my career as a boxer.

I’ve had emotions of all sorts throughout the last four years that range from sadness to gratitude, guilt to appreciation and longing to hopefulness.

It’s hard for some to comprehend why another person would want to spend a large fraction of their life in a combat sport. Risk to injury is high, but even more frightening is the inevitable head trauma that comes with the territory.

For years people would ask me the same thing… “Why do you want to get hit in the head?”

This question would give me a twinge of anger inside. One, people who don’t have a love and passion for boxing are just ignorant. Two, I could ask a similar question about why you choose to do something that others may not understand.

I could ask a scuba diver “Why do you risk your life in open water?” But that would just be silly. The answer is simple. When you pair an activity with passion and love, it becomes all encompassing. The reward is worth the risk.

• The first time I hit pads was the summer of 2009.

• My first fight was April 2010.

• My first gold medal at provincials was 2012.

• My first time at Nationals was 2016.

• My first pro fight was 2018.

• I said goodbye to my career as a boxer August 2020.

I’ve had over fifty fights in eleven years and over a thousand rounds in the ring if you combine sparring and fights.

My life for over a decade revolved around boxing. It’s who I was. It became my identity. Boxing held me together at the seams when my life was falling apart, and the Lord knows that my life was a mess until I reached my thirties.

Finding a new identity has been the biggest challenge of my thirties thus far. I often feel alone in the emotions of letting go. I am always working towards fully accepting that my life in the present no longer consists of training for that moment I step through the ropes into a place that felt like home.

• The excitement and anxiousness as the announcer introduces me.

• The sudden burst of cheering when the walk out music starts.

• The feeling of confidence as I make my way to the ring and step through the ropes.

• The feel of the canvas under my feet.

• The sound of the bell as I quietly wait in my corner with my eyes locked on my opponent.

• The sound the canvas makes under my feet as my opponent and I dance with one another.

• The rhythm that is felt with the exchanges of punches.

• The clacking sound when there’s ten seconds left in the round.

• The final bell.

• The overwhelming sense of accomplishment as the ref holds wrist.

I won’t ever forget these moments and feelings.

What I will forget is the name of a familiar face that I once knew. The face is so damn familiar, but I forget how I know that person.  I will forget where I put the keys five minutes ago. I will forget the reason I went to the store. I will forget simple daily tasks.

This was the risk I chose to take for eleven years.

I am learning that the best way to live my life is with strict routine and constant notes. Sometimes in my phone, sometimes on my hand, sometimes on a calendar. Without constant routine and reminders, I cannot function at a level I am proud of.

I catch myself stuttering despite the forethought being clear in my mind. Thankfully I have a strong ability to articulate my words through writing, otherwise I might never be able to connect smoothly with my thoughts.

Some may say that forgetfulness is part of getting older or part of being a parent. Some may even say “you’ve always been forgetful” (this is true). But I am here to say that it is impossible to escape brain trauma with the amount of blows I have taken to the head.

Unfortunately athletes don't always notice until they are years out of the sport.

I am not telling my story for people to feel bad for me. I am telling my story to shed light onto life after high level combat sports. Most importantly, I want to create awareness to those who compete. It wasn’t until the end of my career that I understood the dangers and began to take serious precautions.

If only I had known then what I know now. That’s where my anger sets in.

When I go back to the question that used to make feel angry, I have a different outlook than I did then…

I still think it’s an ignorant question, but if you ask the same question with different wording, it doesn’t seem as ignorant.

“Are you educated on the risks involved with boxing?” is the question people should be asking.

As a nineteen-year-old who had a lot of trauma and anger, I loved how boxing made me feel. I didn’t care about the education of my brain. What nineteen-year-old would?

As a thirty-five-year-old, retired boxer with two children, I care!

I find myself caring more about educating others on the sport and the proper precautions to take if you decide to compete.

Each week I want to share some of my own experiences, and break down my life now as a former athlete by answering questions like:

• How do you let go of your career without falling into deep depression?

• How do you replace the high?

• How do you move forward without the title you’re so used to carrying?

• How do you accept life after professional sports?

• When will the feeling of loss go away?

• How do you accept your body post professional sports?

If you’re an athlete or former athlete reading this, stay tuned and feel free to reach out.