When I first started Taekwondo at the young age of six, I thought the hardest part would be learning the techniques, memorising the patterns, or keeping my hands up during sparring. But the real challenge was not techniques, it was balancing schoolwork and training while also having a social life as a young, extroverted girl.

There were days when I’d come home from school exhausted, with assignments waiting for me and a Taekwondo session beginning in a few hours. I would look at my uniform hanging on my door and think to myself, “I really don’t feel like going today.” Yet, one missed training turned into another few weeks later, then another for reasons that cannot be undone, like sickness or impending exam periods. Then before I knew it, the next grading rolled around, leaving me with one less chance to move up the ranks.

Some days were amazing. Others were frustrating. There were times I cried after training because I felt like I wasn’t progressing fast enough. There were times I aced a school exam but felt slow in training; other days I trained well but stayed up late finishing homework. It was far from perfect, to say the least. But every time I trained and practiced, no matter how upset or annoyed I felt, something shifted. I remembered how good it felt to finally perfect a technique I’d been practicing for weeks, or to hear my instructor say I’d improved, or to finally break a board with a kick I dreaded. I thought of the friends I made, with their support either at gradings or class, and the pride I felt after finishing a session when I was not feeling the best.

Years passed, and finally one of the most nerve-wracking weeks of my life rolled around. Junior Black Belt grading. With Part A completed and Part B less than a week away, I sat in my room thinking how much I had done. Yes, I was absolutely terrified with the million what-if thoughts rushing through my head, but I reminded myself I was ready for this moment. I thought about the times that made all this worth it. Like the first time I broke a board, or how I felt after going to training after a stressful day at school with the ability to channel my negative thoughts into techniques. These memories reminded me that every tough training session at Balmoral, every time I hit the pad in my garage, every time I pushed myself when I didn’t feel like it, brought me to this moment.

Now, I am sitting in my room, writing my story with my Junior Black Belt in my wardrobe, thinking how far I have come. Taekwondo taught me discipline, but most importantly it taught me to be patient with myself and learn to incorporate it in my life, whether doing a pattern just before dinner or doing a few kicks against the wall at home. Taekwondo showed me that struggling does not mean failing, but instead means I am growing and learning.

My Taekwondo journey taught me that getting a black belt isn’t just about the belt itself. What matters most is showing the skills I’ve worked hard to learn and knowing I can protect myself if I need to. The real achievement isn’t just earning the belt—it’s proving how much effort and dedication I’ve put in, both during training and in everyday life.

 So no matter whether you are a black, brown, blue, green, yellow or white belt, just remember there is always room to learn, even when you are not the best.

This is my journey, and I know that not everyone will have the same as people struggle with different things. But if I could tell six-year-old me one thing, it would be that as long as I keep pushing, no matter how many times I fail, I can do it. So, with this story, I hope someone realises that it’s okay to have hard days in Taekwondo, but if you drag yourself to that training session you do not want to go to, you can achieve anything you set your mind to.