Have you ever wondered how something that looks so chaotic , like boxing, can end up being the thing that calms you?For me, this is the first real chapter of my “Notes to Myself.”A reminder to appreciate the risks I took, even the ones I never imagined for myself.Growing up in Pakistan, I never saw myself as the “sporty” person. Gender roles box you in quietly - not loudly, not intentionally -but enough that you just don’t explore. The only “sport” memory I have is thinking I came third in a school race… when I was nowhere even close.But life has a way of cornering you until you open doors you didn’t know existed.When COVID hit, I had to move back home from university. Hyderabad is peaceful, but for someone used to living in a hostel, surrounded by noise and movement, it felt like the world went still. I felt boxed in - by the city, by my own thoughts, by the question I kept asking myself: Who could I be if I actually tried?That frustration slowly turned into rage. And when I moved to Karachi for work, I knew I needed to direct that rage somewhere it wouldn’t consume me.That’s how boxing entered my life.I joined a male-dominant gym, having no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t good. I didn’t even know why I was there. I just knew I needed something that would push back at the chaos inside me.But something shifted. I stopped caring about how I looked or how slow I was. I kept showing up. And eventually, my “missing days” turned into two-hour sessions. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I changed.The rage I thought would stay with me forever softened. I became more composed, less impulsive and more in control of myself than I had ever been.And the confidence I gained wasn’t loud — it was grounding. It made me feel safer in a city that isn’t always safe. It made me step out on my own, do my groceries, run errands, explore, help people, rescue animals… do the things younger me would never believe she could do.Boxing didn’t just make me stronger. It made me understand myself. It made me accept who I am instead of fighting it.And that’s the real note to myself here:Negative emotions aren’t wrong. Feeling rage, frustration, confusion - that doesn’t make you broken. What matters is what you do with it. Whether you box it in, deny it, or transform it into something that serves you.For me, that transformation happened through physical activity. For you, it might be painting, writing, reading, or something you haven’t tried yet.Just don’t let others define who you are.Don’t assume the version of yourself you know today is the final one.There is always a door you haven’t opened yet - and when you finally do, you might meet the “you” you’ve been searching for. P.s. And if my story resonates with you, go listen to the people living theirs - Sit With Aqsa, my other podcast, linked in this episode.
