Boxing has always been there for me. It’s more than a sport — it’s my anchor. When my head’s in a bad place, when the loneliness creeps in, I put my gloves on and step into the gym. For a while, it’s just me, the bag, and the sound of my own breathing. Every jab, every hook, every bead of sweat is a reminder that I’m still here, still pushing, still improving. Boxing teaches you discipline, but it also teaches you about yourself. It forces you to face the parts of you that want to give up and tells you to keep swinging anyway.
My start in life wasn’t easy. I was adopted when I was younger, and to be honest, that was the worst time of my life. I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel wanted. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. That kind of thing gets under your skin and stays there, making you question your worth. I acted out a lot — anger, frustration, confusion, it all came spilling out in the wrong ways. I ended up in trouble with the police more times than I want to admit.
When I turned 19, I left home. That was a turning point. I made a decision — no more trouble, no more going down the same road. I cut myself off from a lot of the influences that had been dragging me down. But leaving home didn’t magically fix everything. Without somewhere stable to live, I found myself in a new town with no connections, no support, and no safety net. That’s how I ended up homeless.
Being on the streets strips everything back. You’re constantly thinking about where you’ll sleep, what you’ll eat, and how to keep your stuff safe. There’s no room for anything else. It’s not just the cold or the hunger that gets to you — it’s the way people look at you, like you’re less than human. I started slipping into bad habits, trying to numb how hard everything felt.
But deep down, I knew I couldn’t carry on like that. I wanted to be better — for myself, for my future. I got clean. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. I had to. Boxing helped, even then. It gave me a reason to get up and move, to focus on something other than the mess I was in.
That’s when I heard about First People. I didn’t know what to expect, but what I found was different from anything I’d experienced before. They didn’t just see “someone who needs housing” — they saw me. They listened. They treated me with respect, and that alone changed something in me. When people treat you like you matter, you start believing you do.
They helped me get somewhere permanent to live. My own place — clean, safe, and mine. I can lock the door at night and know I’ll wake up in the same bed I fell asleep in. I can cook my own meals, keep my stuff where I want it, and have space to just be. That stability is everything. It’s the foundation for the life I’m building now.
With a secure home, I can focus on the things that keep me on track. Boxing is still at the heart of that. It’s not just about staying physically fit — it keeps my mind sharp. When I’m in the gym, I’m learning to push through when things get hard, to stay calm under pressure, to respect myself and others. Those lessons spill out into the rest of my life.
I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m a long way from where I was. I’m living somewhere I feel safe. I’m clean. I’ve got goals again. And I’m determined to keep moving forward. Every time I train, I’m not just preparing for a fight in the ring — I’m fighting for my future.
The way I see it, life’s a bit like boxing. You’re going to take hits. You’re going to get knocked down. But it’s not about avoiding the punches — it’s about getting back up, round after round, and proving to yourself you’ve got more left in you.
Right now, I’m still in the early rounds. But I’ve got my corner behind me, I’ve got a place to call home, and I’m ready to keep swinging. And for the first time in a long time, I believe I can win this fight.
