Day 43: A Heavy Anniversary, A Bruised Rib, and the Choice to Keep Going

A Shadow From the Past

A year ago today, everything in my life went downhill at once. It was the day the last big blow hit, the day that pushed me into a place I never thought I’d be. The disorientation was sudden, as if life abruptly pulled the rug from under me, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I’m not opening that chapter publicly, some things stay private for a reason, but this date is the core reason I started this journey. The training. The discipline. The cold showers. The breathing. The journaling. All of it. Each element was sewn together like fabric, creating the tapestry of recovery that I had to painstakingly weave back together after everything shredded apart.

Today marks the one-year anniversary of that collapse. A date that will always have weight in my heart, a stark reminder of the fragility of life and how quickly everything can change. It serves as both a commemoration of my struggles and a celebration of the resilience I’ve had to cultivate.

And even though I’m supposed to feel proud for climbing out of that hole, there’s still a dark cloud hanging over me. I can feel it in the background, not crushing me, just lingering, lurking as an echo of past pain. But the difference now is… I’m not helpless anymore. I’m in control, at least more than back then. I’m rebuilding my life piece by piece, brick by brick. I’m choosing to keep going. Not perfectly, not smoothly, but consistently. Every small step feels monumental in a way that I never anticipated; it’s the resemblance of progress, however gradual.

And honestly? That means something. Every time I wake up and choose to engage with life, even when it feels daunting, it signifies a little victory. It’s a battle won in the ongoing war within myself.

The Morning That Didn’t Go to Plan

Today was supposed to be my early Saturday boxing session, the one I usually grind through even when I’m tired. But I slept early and still overslept. When I finally woke up around 8, I was hit with two things at the same time:

1. Annoyance

2. Rib pain

A rough combo. Annoyance settled in like an uninvited guest, dull and nagging, while the rib pain stung like a sharp knife of reality reminding me that I’m still on a healing journey.

Missing the morning session wasn’t ideal, but the rib pain made it feel like maybe it was simply time to slow down. So I leaned into it: ate something good, took my cold shower, and didn’t stress. I still had time to finish my school-related tasks later, and I had already handled most of them yesterday anyway. How refreshing it was to listen to my body instead of attempting to override it.

It felt weird to not rush. Weird to not force myself into productivity. This little experiment of self-compassion ironically created a new kind of pressure, the pressure to accept my own imperfections, to embrace moments of inactivity. But maybe that was the point of the morning, to pause before the storm and allow myself the necessary recovery.

Evening Jiu-Jitsu, When the Pain Hits Back

By the evening, I was ready. Determined to make up for the missed boxing session, I planned for a double: jiu-jitsu first, then boxing. I felt a spark of determination, resolve flowing through me as I envisioned myself overcoming the hurdles I encountered earlier in the day.

At 6 p.m., I stepped into the jiu-jitsu class. Only eight of us, including coach. The air felt electric with anticipation. Warm-up, stretching, then straight into ground drills. Focus pulsated through the room, every action deliberate.

We started working from half guard:
Opponent on the side, trying to flatten you, you grab the gi, pull it across, slide your knee out, and transition into full mount. Technical. Smart. Controlled. This movement required both strength and finesse, but the elegance of technique was what fueled my passion. Yet, the moment I felt pressure applied to my rib, reality jolted me.

But every time someone put pressure on me, my rib felt like it was being stabbed, the pain at war with my desire to excel. Muffled voices echoed around me as I tried to shut out the agony.

I tried to ignore it. Tried to push through. You know that mindset, “Just endure it. It’ll settle.” But the longer we drilled, the worse it got. And when we rolled at the end, the pain crossed the line. It became something I could no longer dismiss, an unwelcome companion that overshadowed my enthusiasm.

Not soreness.
Not discomfort.
Pain. Sharp, deep, and impossible to ignore.

One of the guys told me to get an X-ray. I don’t think it’s fully cracked, but it’s definitely bruised. I can breathe fine, it only hurts under compression, but it’s bad enough that I had to accept reality. The acceptance felt heavy, like the weight of bricks being laid on my heart.

After checking some info, the suggested recovery was 3 to 4 weeks of rest, light movement, no sparring for a while. Hearing this felt crushing; I had developed a momentum I didn’t want to lose.
Not what I wanted to hear.

So yeah… no boxing tonight. Physically and mentally, I wasn’t in the right condition. It felt like a truth I had to face silently as the disappointment washed over me.

Winding Down, Quiet but Necessary

I left early, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. Took a cold shower at home. Ate. Did my Wim Hof breathing. Then rested. I sank into the tranquility of the room, allowing the silence to envelop me, the weight of my day gradually dissipating.

Even with the pain, I loved the jiu-jitsu session. I love how it forces me to think, not just push. It rewards strategy, detail, patience. It makes me smarter, not just stronger. The lessons I absorb extend beyond physicality; they resonate in my daily life, revealing the strength I didn’t know I had.

Tonight would’ve been perfect if my rib didn’t betray me. It was an unexpected twist in a night that should have been filled with achievement and exhilaration.

But there’s always tomorrow. Hope lingers in the air like a soft whisper. And hopefully… less pain to carry into it. With tomorrow comes the promise of renewal.

Lesson & Reflection

Day 43 taught me something uncomfortable but necessary:
Sometimes discipline isn’t about pushing harder, it’s about knowing when to pause. Recognizing our limits can be an exercise in strength, knowing when to step back takes incredible wisdom.

Sometimes strength is choosing rest over ego. It's about the choice between relentless pursuit and self-care, an internal dialogue that needs constant nurturing. Sometimes courage is pulling back before you break, an anthem of bravery sung quietly in the background of our most chaotic moments.

A year ago, I didn’t have control over anything. Today, I’m learning to control the small decisions that shape my future, the conscious acts of self-love and appreciation that fuel every step forward. It’s not perfect. It’s not smooth. It’s jagged and filled with lessons. But it’s progress. The grind continues.

👉 When you’re exhausted but driven, how do you decide whether to push through or step back? Where do you draw the line between discipline and self-damage? Let me know, I’m curious how you handle that balance, as it seems to shape so much of our journeys.