Pushing Through the Moments when your mind tries to pull you back!

This past week, I watched my oldest son earn his black belt at True North in Brookfield, and it hit me harder than I expected. The test lasted hours. Families filled the room, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching their kids work toward something they’ve poured years into. We sat there as they kicked, punched, jumped, and powered their way through each skill. In a couple of circumstances, a student had to perform a form alone, in front of a crowd of instructors, parents, peers, everyone! I could feel myself lean forward in my chair and my chest tighten watching those moments. Some kids had to repeat a form more than once, standing under that spotlight longer than they ever anticipated. Watching them push past their doubt and stand in that discomfort until they figured it out… you could feel the whole room rooting for them. Eyes were full of tears and the cheers weren’t just loud, they were proud and filled the room.

Earlier that day, talking with my son before the test, I heard something different in his voice. There was a lack of ease. A heaviness. I asked if he was nervous. This kid has never once admitted nervousness to anything. He looked at me with this half smile, not quite confident and simply nodded yes. No words. Just honesty. And that moment alone was big. Bigger than the belt.

He’s missed belt graduations before due to behaviors or inactivity. Having three boys in two different classes there were times I sat through practices thinking, here we go again, another 60  minutes of the same moves, the same routines, the same exact forms I’ve watched a hundred times. I’ve had plenty of evenings where I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there and I think that is important to admit. I am sure I was not the only one. I showed up each time because this was not only a commitment the boys signed on for. It was a family commitment.  But Friday…I finally understood why they practice those same moves over and over and each practice not only unveiled it's value, I would gladly sign up to do it all over again.

Because for the first time, I watched my son find his voice of power. I watched him step into strength he didn’t even know he had. The doubt didn’t disappear it simply stepped aside. Four years ago, we committed as a family that we would start this journey toward a black belt and not quit until it was done. And he held up his end of that promise.

This isn’t something he accomplished alone. And it’s not something our family accomplished alone. Who he is becoming is deeply tied to the people who have shown up for him, his teachers, his peers, and the team at True North who have stood beside him every step of the way.

It made me think about how similar this is to our own health journeys. When we’re looking at the big picture, losing weight, healing our relationship with food, rebuilding strength, finding consistency, it’s so easy to get overwhelmed. When we have missteps or old patterns pop up, it’s tempting to shift course or convince ourselves it’s not worth it. But when we commit, truly commit, something shifts. We stop staring at the mountain years ahead of us and instead focus on the single step right in front of us. And we ask, how can I take just this one step, well? How can I stay true to that commitment and build a routine that offers discipline rather than decision?

Just like my son didn’t earn his black belt on his own, none of us move through a health journey alone, and we’re not meant to. His growth came from a community that challenged him, encouraged him, held him accountable, and reminded him what he was capable of on the days he forgot. Our wellness works the same way. We need people who can walk beside us, offer perspective when we get stuck, celebrate the small wins, and help us stay grounded in our commitment when doubt creeps in. Support doesn’t take the steps for us, but it gives us the strength and steadiness to keep taking them.

Yes, I got to watch my son earn his black belt. But honestly, that moment pales in comparison to everything I watched him gain along the way. Resilience. Deliberateness. The ability to feel discomfort and not make that pain the priority. The understanding that progress is built in tiny pieces, not giant leaps.

Any goal we hold including health, strength, confidence, emotional wellbeing can be broken into smaller steps. And when we commit to those steps, even imperfectly, we eventually reach the moment we’ve been imagining. The moment where the dream becomes real. The moment where we see what we built with our own steady, stubborn effort.

And that, right there, is the miracle we create for ourselves.