Picture it, if you will… I’m in a boxing ring. I have gone so many rounds that I have lost count. The crowd’s scream is deafening, and I can no longer tell if they are cheering for me or against me. All I know is they are screaming. It’s hot, and the lights are so bright. I have taken a beating. Not enough that they will tap me out but enough that every person watching knows over the next few weeks and months, I will be hurting in so many ways, and there will be some scars.

I am on my knees in the middle of the ring. Up until this point, I have been holding my own. Yes, I have taken some digs. But I also have given some out. Big ones that have landed hard. I can fight. Let’s not even try that.  I have been trained to do this all my life. Fight.  I have never been knocked out. Yes… OK…there were a few times I wobbled, but I have never even lost my legs. Not enough that it showed.

However, these last few rounds have been different. In most cases, I have always been able to train and prepare…. what fighter would not do this? But not this time. I was thrown into the ring with no warning.

And here I am, in the middle of the ring on the floor. I may have been on my back for a hot second, but I have managed to get up to my knees. All I can hear here is the heartbeat in my ears and the background noise of the crowd screaming. I feel sick and exhausted. My head is spinning, and I need to sleep right now. Forget this fight. I’m down and out.

Then I see my trainer in the corner. He is jumping and screaming for me to get up. I try to lift my head, but my eyes are swollen, most likely from crying for so long. His blond hair has gone all floppy, as it does when he gets mad and is screaming for me to get up. I shake my head. I can’t.

Then the ref is in front of me, bending down. His face looks worried, and he asks me if I am out. I nod. He doesn’t look sure, but he starts counting ….

It’s called the long count. When a boxer is knocked down in a fight, the ref will count over them, and the boxer must rise to their feet, unaided, by the count of Ten or else deemed to be knocked out….a KO.

“1”

 He bellows while standing over me, which makes me jump a little. Wow, this is strange. I never thought I would see myself here. But I’m good with this; count away. I don’t want to get up. I am done with this.

“2”

I am angry. I did not want this fight; I did not see it coming. It was not a fair fight at all, and I should not even be here.

“3”

I can hear my trainer screaming at me, telling me to get up and fight. I try to look up at him again, but my eyes are blurred with sweat…tears…blood… and everything else. I see him. I hear him. But he needs to let this one go. I get why he is screaming so hard. We have come this far …but he will have to just carry on without me.

“4”

Why? Why did all this have to happen? It’s not fair. Why would the universe do this to me? Why would the universe choose someone I love so deeply to fight me so hard? I think I scream why out loud.

“5”

I scream again now—loud—because I am so exhausted, but I know I have to get up. I am not ready to be knocked out. Or am I? What is the point of actually fighting? I have had some good rounds. That’s what I will be remembered for, surely. I know I have friends in the crowd and family, but they don’t understand. Not really. They say they do, but they don’t, and I would imagine that all are grateful they are not in this ring right now, and I feel very alone.

“6”

I think of my mum. If she was here now, what would she say? She would say, “Get up,” And say, “You can leave the fight but not by KO; leave with your head high and walk away.” But she is not here so I think I will stay down.

“7”

The numbers are getting louder, and the crowd is going wild. Some of them want me to stay down., Of course, they do. They will have such a story to tell …to themselves mostly…how they were part of the KO. They helped to keep me down with the moves they made. Some have been in the ring with me before and lost, lost so badly that they had to make up a whole thing about it, so I get why they are so invested in me staying down now. I can see some of them rubbing their hands together, the light glinting of some of their little shiny bald heads.

“8”

My trainer has left the corner and is now at the side of the ring, screaming at me through the ropes. I turn and look at him. I can really see him now. He looks so sad. “Mum,” he shouts, “ just get back up.”

And so, I start to stand.

I hear the crowd screaming.

As I start to stand.

The ref stops and looks as he pauses for the next number.

And  I am up. Battered. I can’t see out of one eye. And I use all my strength to raise my head to stand tall like a soldier. Like I was taught back in the day,

The ref holds my hands and looks me in the eye.

“Are you OK” ?he asks. I half laugh. OK….wow…No. No, I am not. So, he changes the question.

“Are you OK to carry on?”.

And I nod,

“You sure?” he asks

“I am”

He shakes his head

“9”

No…wait…I am up. I AM UP!. He looks me in the eye and says, “Focus on me”. I sway slightly but hold eye contact. He says, “Are you strong enough to carry on” and I nod and say, “Always!

He nods and steps away to let the fight continue.

Some of the crowd roared in joy. Some shout in anger for me to stay down. My trainer is just nodding slowly. I am up.

….

I write this because People may have seen that I have been less present for the last 18 months. I like to think of it as a pause. You see, sometimes we are faced with battles that we have to face. Or at least try to. And then it can just turn into a beating and then batter you until you roll into a ball and take the beating. Or you can keep swinging but know your blows won’t land because you don’t want this battle. You let your guard down, and boom….The universe tries to KO you. Sometimes people want to fight you because they are angry at the world, but they have only ever sparred with you, so …it’s you they want to fight, and while you may continue to defend yourself …like when you were sparing.

You are a safe fight. Because they know you won’t hit back. But they land real punches anyway. Ones that spin your jaw. Ones that send you to the floor and require a long count.

Some fights you may never talk about. Because they hurt too much.

So here we are.

And I am now in what I like to call Operation: rebuild my life.

I have so many plans, ideas, and adventures to undertake that I can’t allow the universe to K.O. me just yet.

And I have a plan so that you can all join me in my operation…watch this space…