My Mother and MMA

So being Mother’s Day today, I thought I’d share a short story about my mother – specifically about her and my decisions to train as a fighter.

Early on, like a lot of people doing martial arts, mum never really liked me doing it. Everytime I’d head off to training she’d remind me of the potential injuries that could occur, and when I came back from training she’d like to throw in how even though I didn’t get hurt in training, that it could possibly happen next time. Mum was always extremely cautious and her constant reminders was just her way of making me to be alert and always mindful of potential outcomes. When I did come home with a limp or whinced when I did something, she liked to remind me of her pervious warnings too. And then came the more serious injuries from training – “One day, you’ll hurt yourself so bad, don’t expect me to spoon feed you in hospital.”

As time went on, it eased up when she realized I wasn’t made of glass and could handle the punishment the training can bring sometimes. She started becoming more observant as well and would kind of know when I had a fight coming up based on my routines with training, schedules and diet and would ask me about it. It was nice to know she was showing kind of interest. And then one day when it was a fight day, she asked me if my fight that night was going to be on TV and what channel was it on so she could watch. This totally threw me off guard – my mum wanting to watch MMA. It’s weird because – to put it in a couple of words – my mum is very asian. Yes, her main motive for wanting to watch was because I was in it, but nevertheless, it was a big thing for me, and for her, to want to watch it.

Unfortunately my fights don’t air live, but she was able to watch the replay a few weeks later. She enjoyed it, and I think she was able to see it’s not as bad as she thought and her son is a tough little cookie. She’s realized it’s just a sport and that I’m well trained to not get seriously hurt. She has taken it all in well and I’m glad about that. The times when I come home limping. When I cut myself and require stitches. When I waddle in with grazes and bruises. The smelly training clothes. She knows it’s all a part of my life now and is OK with it and is more interested and supportive than I thought she’d ever be. Thanks Mum. Love you.

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