The Meaning of Karate for Me

A Sense of Safety in Chaos

I first discovered karate in my teenage years. It felt like a safety net—providing order, routine, and respect in a chaotic world. I only trained for a year before leaving as my life became increasingly turbulent. But the memory of that feeling—of safety, of losing myself in training, of focusing on something other than chaos—never left me.

Returning to the Dojo After Recovery

Fast forward 20 years, through multiple hospitalisations for anorexia nervosa, I found myself firmly in recovery. I had been discharged from eating disorder services, now with an 18-month-old baby I needed to stay well for. The memory of the dojo kept niggling at the back of my mind. I knew that if I could recapture that feeling, I could finally start living my life.

So, after much hesitation, I found a local dojo. Walking in alone for the first time was terrifying. No one knew my history—I had a chance to start afresh. But I was welcomed into the family immediately… and there I have stayed. I initially returned for the same reasons that drew me in as a teenager, but as I grew—both personally and within the dojo—my sense of purpose and self evolved.

The Balance of Tradition and Reality

I still love the traditional side of Shotokan: the history, the respect, the discipline, and the ethos that effort and giving your all are far superior to technical perfection. But my dojo is fortunate to have two incredible Sensei, each bringing a different focus. One preserves the traditional art I cherish, while the other teaches us to handle non-consensual violence—giving us the tools to protect ourselves in the real world.

This hit home for me. Years of therapy couldn’t achieve what this dojo has: the realisation that I can and deserve to look after and defend myself by any means necessary.

Breaking Limits and Growing Confidence

My confidence has grown immeasurably. I am still shy, and I still find things uncomfortable, but we have a saying in the dojo: Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. I have been pushed beyond limits I once thought unbreakable, shattering ceilings that had held me back from truly living.

With the support of my Sensei, I achieved my first Dan after six years of training. And for the first time, I allowed myself to be proud of myself—something I had never been able to do before.

Living Life Fully

Now, ten years since my last inpatient stay and seven years since my outpatient discharge, I am living my life. Two children, a divorce, a career I love… I have grown, I am empowered, and I am happy.

Anonymous