10/17/2026
Two and a half years ago, I almost missed the class that changed my recovery.
Our dojo, Columbus WI. Black Belt Academy offers a free Mother’s Day class. The moms stand in the front row, the kids stand behind them, and the kids help teach their moms.
I usually miss it. Mother’s Day weekend lands on a conference I attend, so our family spends it at a hotel with a water park. We have a lovely time, but my son misses out.
In 2024, the dojo said I could come on a different day. So I took a class with my kiddo.
I had done kickboxing and body combat at the gym for years, so I thought I knew how to punch. I didn’t. Where my thumb goes. How to rotate my fist. Where to hold my hands by my face. Sensei kept coming over and moving me.
With a brain injury, that’s a lot. Remember where your arms go. Remember where your fists go. Hear the next instruction. Make your body follow through. It was hard as heck.
That night, I went home and did the dishes.
That might not sound like much. But after my brain injury, dishes had become so many steps: gather them, put them in the sink or dishwasher, wash, set aside, dry, put away. It could be a half hour of constant steps.
That night, I could organize it. Almost overnight.
The next day, I went back to the dojo almost in tears. “You guys have no idea. This is a game changer.”
I kept coming, and I signed up. I had no interest in a belt. I just knew I needed this.
I want to be honest. If they hadn’t offered a free class to honor moms and build that connection with our kids, I never would have considered it. Bouncing around at the gym and punching the air? Absolutely. Working toward a black belt? Never.
Two and a half years later, I help teach.
Sometimes the door that changes everything is one you never planned to walk through.
— Pat Ann