Kicking Through Life’s Battles: How Taekwondo Strengthened My Family and Helped Me Overcome Inner Demons : Dr. Neelima
At the age of 36, when many might consider their paths in life already set, I found myself drawn to an unexpected new journey—Taekwondo, a Korean martial art known for its powerful kicks and disciplined training. What started as my husband’s decision to join quickly became a family affair, as our two sons eagerly followed suit. Rather than just sitting outside the dojang (training hall) and watching my children train, I made a bold decision: I would not just observe, but participate. I donned the dobok (uniform) and stepped onto the mat, ready to embark on a transformative adventure.
The first time I stood in line, surrounded by children younger than my own sons, I felt a surge of self-doubt. Here I was, a grown woman, mother, and professional, about to engage in a practice where most of my peers were decades younger. But as I surrendered myself to the rigorous discipline of the training, I discovered a surprising sense of belonging. With each session, I embraced the role of a student, throwing myself into the warm-ups, the countless air kicks, imaginary sparring sessions, and powerful punches that defined our training. Our master’s whims determined the number of laps we ran, and on particularly grueling days, we pushed through cone drills, staircase drills, step drills, and shuttle runs that left our hearts pounding and our bodies drenched in sweat. By the end of each session, our bodies were battered, but our spirits soared with the pride of having survived another round of intense training.
In life, how often do we find ourselves looking back and saying, “It was tough, but I survived”? Taekwondo taught me to embrace this mindset, to face challenges head-on, and to grow stronger through adversity.
Friday evenings brought a special kind of anxiety—contact sparring sessions. These were the ultimate tests of courage, where the mental battle began long before I even stepped into the dojang. From the moment I woke up, a sense of dread loomed, and by the time I arrived at class, I had concocted every excuse possible to avoid sparring. Yet, there I stood, facing opponents who were often a third of my age, taking blows and delivering my own. Over four years, I progressed, eventually earning my black belt—a symbol of perseverance and the beginning of a lifelong journey.
But this journey wasn’t mine alone. My sons, with their boundless energy and unwavering support, became my fiercest motivators.
They never allowed me to skip a class. “You’re trying to escape,” they’d say, their voices pulling me back when my resolve wavered. Together, we didn’t just survive—we thrived, forging a bond that was strengthened with every kick, punch, and sparring session.
The memories we’ve created together are etched in my heart: the frantic efforts to shed those final few kilograms before a championship, the last-minute sprints to make weight, and the joyous post-victory celebrations with biryani and ice cream. These are the stories I hope my children will one day share with their own families, as much as my husband and I will cherish them as we grow older together.
At 44, reflecting on my journey, I realize that stepping onto the mat was more than just learning a martial art—it was a leap into the unknown, a confrontation with the inner demons that often hold us back from realizing our true potential. Taekwondo became a mirror, reflecting not just my physical capabilities but the mental strength and resilience I never knew I had.
As a mother, doctor, and fitness coach, the most valuable lesson I’ve learned—and hope to impart—is this: You won’t always win, even when you give your all, and that’s okay. What matters is that you keep showing up, keep pushing yourself, and keep giving your best. In doing so, you’ll never truly lose, because the journey itself is the victory.
