FROM BLACKOUTS TO BOXING: HOW I TOOK BACK CONTROL.

I grew up surrounded by violence.

My father used to fight in these gritty, makeshift WWE-style matches—nothing glamorous, just raw and messy, men literally cutting themselves in trailer parks. I remember watching them as a kid, terrified but unable to look away. I was raised in a world where anger lived on the surface. My parents hit me. School wasn’t safer. I saw kids get curb-stomped, fists fly daily, and I watched it all with a weird, broken smile. Violence was everywhere. I felt it inside me too… but I didn’t know how to let it out. I was scared. Scared of others, and scared of myself.

I was bullied for being gay. For being feminine. I couldn’t defend myself. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. I felt powerless in my own skin.

That changed in 2023.

It started the day after I took my brother out in downtown Montreal. He started talking about cocaine again, and something in me snapped. Here was a man with two beautiful kids, always using them as pawns, always manipulating the people around him. He was my mother’s favorite. I spent holidays alone because of him. I felt rage that I didn’t know where to put.

That next day, I met a man named Matthew Pardo. And I can say this now with certainty: he saved my life. He looked me in the eyes and said, “You need to take this out in a healthy way. Because if you don’t, you’ll be in trouble.”

He didn’t say it with judgment. He said it like someone who truly saw me. And I listened.

So I started boxing.

At first, I didn’t know what I was doing—how to roll, how to parry, how to block. I was all emotion, no technique. But as I trained, something shifted. I started to feel safer. Not because I could fight—but because I didn’t need to anymore. I had the knowledge. I had the discipline. And I finally had control over my body.

I used to throw punches in bar fights. I’ve been arrested twice. I’ve blacked out with rage and done things I regret. But boxing taught me how to pause. To breathe. To carry my power with grace. Now, when I see a loud, arrogant man trying to provoke something in me, I don’t have to prove anything. I already know what I’m capable of. That silence—that calm—that’s power.

If you’re someone who’s ever felt rage take over—like you see black, like your body moves without permission—I get it. I’ve been there. And I’ll tell you this:

Get into a martial art. Boxing. Muay Thai. Anything that forces you to reconnect your mind with your body. Because when adrenaline meets technique… when anger meets breath… when pain finally has a release—it’s therapy. Not just for your soul, but for your limbs. It teaches you how not to destroy, but to direct.

I was once someone who could’ve lost everything to violence. Now, I’m someone who walks away with peace.

And it started with a choice—and one man who reminded me I was worth saving.