Confessions of BJJ Women

You thought only men farted or got aroused on the mat? Think again. Here is our first installment of BJJ confessions from myself, Liz, and a few other anonymous BJJ ladies!

• I thought jiujitsu sounded stupid the first time I heard of it, years before I started training. How wrong I was.

• During intense competition training one day, I was spotting between periods and bled through my gi pants. My friend tried to say something, but I was so worked up that I ignored her and completed the class with a big red stain on my pants. Later she said, "I tried to tell you!"

• I avoid some techniques because I have small panic attacks when my legs get trapped. I can't even sleep with the sheets tucked in. I don't know why, but my body freaks out and it almost hurts.

• Sometimes I get slightly aroused against my will doing certain moves, like when people grab between my legs in side control. I can’t help it, and it makes me glad that being female means no one can tell.

• One time I was rolling with my coach when I felt a fart coming on. I stopped moving and clenched my butt cheeks. My coach said, “Come on, don’t give up now! You have to keep moving, dig deep!” I bit my lip and kept going, praying that I wouldn’t fart on him.

• I did fart on my coach, and it was loud enough to echo off the walls. I tried to cover it up with a cough, but he was smirking.

They do, and it will happen in their triangle. Enjoy.

• I only know how to tie my belt the "super knot" way and not the traditional way.

• I was practicing the fan sweep and really trying to put the hip thrust motion into it as hard as I could. My partner was a newbie and apparently hadn’t figured out he should wear spandex under his gi pants. I could feel his boner.

• Teammates have commented on my smooth legs (in a non-creepy way), but I rarely ever shave above my knees thanks to gi pants.

• I hold grudges when men bully and muscle me around on the mat, and I make them pay when I finally get the upper hand whether it's in the same roll or two weeks later.

• I was going for the belt when I grabbed my partner’s balls--a whole handful of them. He played it cool, but I was mortified.

Ball control, 10 out of 10.

• During a no-gi match for gold, my shirt rolled up my stomach, and I got self-conscious with everyone watching. She passed my guard because I stopped to pull my shirt down.

• Jiujitsu is a spiritual experience for me. The gym is my sanctuary.

• I convinced my coaches I didn't want to work with one guy because he was too spazzy. In actuality, I didn't want to work with him because he always grabbed my ass--in rolls, in drills, and even when we lined up to say goodbye. (Disclaimer: I should have told my coaches. Please tell someone if this happens to you.)

• I like being in back control because it feels like cuddling.

• I once unintentionally caressed my coach's balls with my foot while trying to learn De La Riva guard. I kept my foot there a few awkward seconds too long trying to figure out why his thigh was so soft.

Check out this Instagram page for more hilarious confessions! 

Have a confession of your own and want to include it in our next installment anonymously? Send it to us at liz.meg223@gmail.com!

The Color of the Belt

By Liz

I remember when I was an energetic and spastic white belt with a naive heart full of hope and eyes full of wonder for the world of jiujitsu. I was like a recently inducted member of a secret cult; or perhaps a new lover eager to please; or an addict needing a fix. I recall lining up in rank order at the end of the queue, and sometimes I would lean my head forward just an inch and sneak a look out of the corner of my right eye. Outstretched before me was a long row of colorful belts like they were mocking me and saying, “You are literally THE worst.”

I remember when I was a white belt, I idolized the blue belts like they were demigods. The purple belts? They were (are) practically gods. The brown and black belts? I won’t even mention those gods of gods. (I am not worthy! *kowtows* I am not worthy!)

When I rolled with blue belts, their technique dominated mine. They could fold me into a pretzel, armbar me in their sleep, and pass my guard before I even got in guard. They had fancy techniques I’d never seen and could manipulate my limbs like it was their job. They seemed so experienced, so COOL. They were the eighth graders in middle school, the cool kids in the cafeteria, the seniors in high school. They seemed untouchable to me. They were what I wanted so badly to be. They gave me advice, and I hung on to every word. They intimidated me with their skill and experience, and with their jokes, handshakes, nods, and knowing smiles. They were all friends with each other, and I was the awkward and uncoordinated noob.

Being a white belt definitely feels like adolescence sometimes.

After I’d had my white belt for one year and four months, a friend hinted that if I did well at the next tournament, I might be ready for my blue belt. “No way,” I responded, though inside I was doing cartwheels. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to enter the rank of the blues.

I did relatively well at that tournament. In no-gi, I lost by points in the finals after barely missing an armbar (and, somewhat regretfully but not really, fucking up the girl’s elbow because she refused to tap). In gi, I lost in the finals by points to a ferocious white belt who was also the wife of a famous black belt. So that one didn’t really even count, right?

My coaches kept telling me how proud they were of me. “How long have you had your white belt?” one coach asked me after my matches were over. “A little over a year,” I responded shyly. Could this be it? Could this be the moment I’m finally promoted?

Indeed, a couple days later during morning training, the two coaches who had helped me the most in my training up to that point promoted me to blue belt. Finally, all my hard work had amounted to something great. I was one step higher on the totem pole. I was bursting with pride.

The thrill of being a blue belt was short-lived.

Whereas yesterday I was a highly skilled white belt, suddenly overnight I became a sucky blue belt.

After a belt promotion there’s elation and ecstasy and then… you crash. It’s gone in the next moment. You fall low and you can practically feel the vertigo as you drop suddenly… now what? You’ve worked so hard to get to this point and now that it’s here… and it’s almost anti-climactic… under-whelming. It’s on to the next stripe, the next belt color.

I lost pretty badly at the next five competitions I participated in. I doubted myself as a blue belt for the next two years. I couldn’t stop that nagging feeling in the back of my head that kept saying, “You only got promoted to blue belt because you’re female.”

I could just imagine the coaches' conversation, as if I had eavesdropped: “Well… she’s pretty good… for a girl. We should just give her a blue belt because she tries really hard.” In other words, not unlike the awful pity fuck, I thought they had given me a pity promotion. After all, how could I deserve my blue belt when I was still getting destroyed by white belts?

Note to self: Try not to make up assumptions and conversations in your head. You’re almost always completely wrong.

Now, coming up on the third anniversary of my blue belt promotion, I feel more confident with my blue belt status.  

However, even after three years as a blue belt, I would be horrified if I was promoted to purple belt anytime in the foreseeable future. Sure, it would be nice to be acknowledged by my coaches for the time and effort I’ve spent on the mat. The seduction of external validation is not entirely lost on me.  

I’d still prefer to just curl up with my blue belt and hang out in mediocrity. Sometimes I don’t want to have the pressure of having to perform at a higher level.

In one sense, I think that’s why we get promoted: to push us into the ranks of the next level. I would guess there are tons of people in my gym who would love to stay blue belts forever. Because once we get promoted, the pressure mounts and we’re expected to perform at a certain level. It pushes us to keep improving.

Yet… why? Why does it matter what color my belt is? It shouldn’t matter. It simply means that you’ve been doing jiujitsu for a certain period of time. And yet… it carries some undeniable baggage along with it. And I think everyone experiences and interprets that baggage differently.

Maybe it’s an ego thing. It would be nice to remain as a good blue belt for the rest of eternity. I just want to stay in my comfort zone. My blue belt is like a security blanket now, a kind of shield that keeps me from the shame of being dominated by purple belts and keeps me doing relatively well at tournaments.

I feel no shame whatsoever when a purple belt dominates me, like one did the other day so much that my head spun and I started seeing stars, I walked off the mat licking my wounds with the comforting thoughts of, “Well, she was a purple belt. Of course she’s better than me. She’s probably been doing jiujistu for like 15 years.”

As a blue belt, white belts still tap me out occasionally. And when that happens, my ego gets bruised really bad.

In situations when we feel our ego pulling a temper tantrum, I think it’s important to remember jiujitsu is about the process--of learning, of challenging yourself, of trying something new, of being vulnerable.

The thrill of jiujitsu for me comes with trying something new even when I’m scared of losing the position. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten my guard passed by a white belt because I was trying to work butterfly or X-guard, or gotten swept when trying a new submission.

Yet that one in a millionth time when you’re actually successful with a new move? That is thrilling like nothing else, and in a second we’re transported back to our white belt inner-child, high on cloud-nine after finishing a triangle.

And yet the thought of getting my purple belt terrifies me. When I get my purple, I will return to the bottom of the totem pole again, this time as a sucky purple belt.

When we feel we are sucking at life or sucking on the mat, it’s important to remember it’s not the people who are good at stuff who we respect. It’s not just because we have a blue or a black belt that people are going to respect us, or even how well we can close that triangle. It’s the people who make an effort whom we respect. It’s the people who approach the world with adventure, who are okay with failure, and who reach out with compassion--those are the people who we respect.  

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions.

A Jiujitsu Confession: I Burned Out

By Meg

I have not trained jiujitsu in almost two months. When I moved home from China, I decided to take a break for several reasons: injuries (I can now turn my head all the way to the right and almost so on the left!), wallet (going from paying nothing to $150 a month feels like lopping off an arm), and the last reason, the guilty confession--I burned out on jiujitsu.

At the time, I didn't want to admit I was burnt out. Seemed like a sin. I was a coach and part of gym management, but I dreaded going to the gym. I wanted to relax and work on other interests. I wanted to look over my shoulder without having to turn my entire body.

Looking back with some perspective, I’m cutting myself some slack. A handful of factors contributed to the burn-out, starting with the original founder and head coach leaving the summer before. The person who had provided motivation, encouragement, and drive left a hole in the gym atmosphere.

Afterwards, two other teachers shared the responsibility of teaching advanced classes. Although each very talented, the techniques became muddled. One day we learned single leg X guard, and the next we learned De la Riva. My brain did not compute, and under the lack of pattern and repetition, I stopped picking up new techniques.

Early in 2015, the club moved to a new, nicer location. We added classes, and I picked up two beginner's classes to teach. Coaching others and watching them succeed provided the positivity and enjoyment I'd been missing.

Advanced classes, on the other hand, shrank to include just a few people. The lightest, compared to my 53 kilos (121 lbs), was still 20 kilos (44 lbs) heavier. After receiving a few more injuries, I stopped rolling with all except one safe partner.

With my interest at an all-time low, I did what any person would do: I questioned my love for jiujitsu. 

My friend, Sarah, and I took a BJJ-intensive trip to Thailand (read all about it here and here) in August, where we only trained. We trained two times a day, at least four hours a day, gi and no-gi. I challenged myself to train with everyone. I gained some much-needed training with Sarah, someone of a similar build, mindset, and level.

Most importantly, in Thailand I trained under Olavo Abreu. This coach corrected my technique, adjusted movements for my size, and passionately encouraged me during rolls (in a somewhat unintelligible Brazilian accent.) Slowly, my interest showed its face again. I felt excitement for jiujitsu that I hadn't felt in over a year, and I fell in love with it again that week.

Following this trip, I decided to focus on coaching until returning to America in November. Coaching the once-awkward-and-uncoordinated-noob to a basic level, and then watching them armbar some newer noob made me excited and content. Adjusting techniques for size and injuries brought me new understanding of the moves and leverage. There are better ways to learn jiujitsu than getting pancaked under a 90-kilo (200-lb) man.

Back to the present. For now, I'm letting myself take this break. My husband and I train together occasionally, but I am focused on other goals at the moment, like returning to school for another degree. Last night, I tried rock climbing with my sister--something I'd have never had the time to do before. It was fantastic.

When I get back on the mats in a class setting, that will be an awesome moment. I look forward to it every day. But, right now for the first time in three years, jiujitsu does not take priority in my life. And that's okay.


Meg started jiujitsu in 2012, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in five competitions.

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Maintaining the Work/Life/Train Equilibrium

By Liz

I’m too busy to train. How can I balance obligations to my family and my crazy work schedule with jiujitsu training?

I competed last month, and in the five days leading up to the competition, I took some time off from the gym to rest up. I thought to myself, “Hooray! Now I’ll have more time to devote to work and school.” Indeed, I did spend more time in the office than I normally do, but I can say with confidence that I didn’t actually get more work done. I spent a lot of time staring at my computer screen doing nothing, playing on my phone, or otherwise distracting myself with Facebook, Reddit, and Netflix. My brain just couldn’t sustain the additional workload I expected from it, especially in the absence of physical activity.

It’s not the first time this has happened. There was a period of time a couple years ago when I wasn’t able to train. Sometimes it takes time off from the gym to realize how much you appreciate its presence in your life.

I spent more time in the office, but wasn’t any more productive than when I’m training regularly. Normally when I know I have training in the evening, I work efficiently and concentrate on the task at hand so that I can get everything done. But when I don’t have my training time as a deadline, I procrastinate and easily get distracted when I’m trying to do work. As a result I end up staying at the office late, but don’t end up getting much done. I leave the office feeling burned out and unproductive.

I try to maintain a satisfying work/play balance, but we all know it’s easier said than done. How can I follow my dreams of being a successful career woman and writing a book, while still maintaining connections with my family and friends? When is it time for me to buckle down and work hard, and when is it time to take the day off and spend time with the people I love?

I often struggle with how and when to make jiujitsu a priority in my life. Many of the women (and men) who have families especially struggle with when to train and when to spend time with and take care of their kids. For me, sometimes it feels like jiujitsu should take a lower priority over work and friends. After all, it’s really just a hobby, while my career and family is my future and my life.

However, since I began training over four years ago, I’ve learned from experience that training is essential for my mental health. Training is a type of self-compassion (it’s my ME time) that I cannot live without because my training time is key to keeping myself from burning out. In other words, not training would be the most selfish thing I could do. If I didn’t have the “me time” that training allows, I wouldn’t have the energy to be present for my family and friends. Quitting training would be the most detrimental thing I could do for my career. If I didn’t have the stress outlet that training allows, I wouldn’t have the mental or physical energy to devote to work and school.

When you’re super busy, that’s when training is most important to get rid of the stress and keep yourself from burning out mentally. Whether you’re studying for school, working in an office, or taking care of kids at home, we all need mat time for some self-care, stress relief, and time away from the house. Not only is physical activity key for getting a good dose of endorphins, but training allows you to see friendly faces at the gym and devote time to yourself and something you love to do for pure fun, something all of us need and most of us simply don’t get enough of.

I don’t think about the train/life balance as an opposed dichotomy. I see my training and my life as fundamentally intertwined: training is my life and my life is training. Training is fundamental to my life not just for the physical and mental benefits, but also for the friendships and community that I’ve been able to build as a result.

As I reflect on 2015, I’m so grateful for the presence of jiujitsu in my life. BJJ changed my life in a big way. It gave me confidence to protect and stand up for myself, helped me to believe in my value and worth, and gave me a sense of purpose and meaning. Last spring when I was scrolling through Facebook, I saw a status update from a training partner and friend, Christal Christian. She wrote the following message, “from the bottom of my heart,” she told me later. She wrote beautifully about how I feel regarding the importance of jiujitsu in my life.

A few weeks ago, I was drilling with another female BJJ enthusiast. After we were done drilling, we sat on the mat and talked for over an hour (it was mid-day and the gym was virtually empty). We talked about the ups and downs of life and our insecurities, and she gave me advice on how to deal with emotional hardships, as well as being a woman in a male-dominated environment: keep a journal, don’t stop writing, believe in your fundamental value as a human being, and don’t be ashamed to take up space and stand up for yourself.

After drilling and talking with her, I realized that training isn’t just about going through the motions of a move or roll. It’s about community. It’s about having the time to talk and laugh with friends. Even though that hour I spent talking with her was one hour I didn’t spend at the office, it was 100% worth it. I realized then that the time I’ve spent at the gym whether training or talking with friends has been worth it, whether for keeping me sane, keeping me devoted to work and family, or keeping me mentally and physically healthy. And I’m not saying to never take time off. Rest and recovery is just as important as your time in the gym and taking breaks are key for keeping jiujitsu a sustainable life practice.

Keeping the work/life/train balance in equilibrium is key. Work and life are not opposed dichotomies. It’s not a zero-sum game where time training necessarily means time subtracted from your life. Nobody wants the work/life/train spheres to be fighting in a hierarchical ranking of one over the other. Rather, if you can bring them into an intertwined equilibrium, you can develop community and take care of your health at the same time. Who knows? Someday you might even build a career out of doing jiujitsu, and get your family on the mats, too.

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions. She’s learned through training that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just show up.

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Maintaining a Jiujitsu Journal

By Liz

Why should I keep a jiujitsu journal?

A jiujitsu journal is a place where you can write down the techniques you learned that day, as well as record your physical state (“pain in right knee, very fatigued after 2 rolls, ate too much too close to training”) and general experiences during that training session (“felt great today, fun flow roll with Josh at the beginning, got smashed by Kayla during last roll”).

There are several good reasons to keep a journal devoted to jiujitsu:

• Keeping a jiujitsu journal encourages you to pay close attention during class: When you know you’re going to be writing down the techniques later, you are forced to pay attention to every detail--both while the coach is talking and while you are drilling the move. I’ve found that sometimes I space out while the coach is talking and sometimes even do the moves half-heartedly, just going through the motions without really paying attention to what I’m doing and ignoring the details. However, when I know I have to write down the techniques later, I pay close attention to what all four of my limbs are doing, where to put the pressure, when to change positions, how exactly to hold each grip, and how to transition through each move… because otherwise my notes will be crap later. This helps me get the most out of my training time.   
• Keeping a jiujitsu journal encourages drilling before and after class: Sometimes I’m so tired after class that I head to the locker rooms right away without a second thought about what I learned that day. But when I know I have to write the techniques down later, I’ll stay after class and review the moves a few times with a willing partner for five minutes, and will often come back early the next day to drill the moves again.
• The process of writing helps you remember and creates a record for later: You will inevitably forget the details, and keeping a journal allows you to keep going back and drilling moves you learned weeks or months later, helping reinforce the muscle memory of various techniques into your brain.

How should I keep a jiujitsu journal?

Here are my tips for keeping the journal:

• Drill the moves you learned that day again after class is over, and make sure you have all the details correct and solid. Ask your coach to watch you do the move once to make sure you’re doing it correctly.
• Write it down as soon as you get home (or, even better, in the locker room) in as much detail as possible.
• Keep all of the entries in one place and organized by date, and give some details for who your partner was to help jog your memory when you look back on the entry later.
• Detail how you were feeling emotionally and physically that day. Some people also keep a food journal as well. This will help you pick up patterns. For awhile, I was feeling really weak during rolls. When I went back to review my notes, I noticed that in my notes, I was writing “feeling fatigued” during most of my entries. That prompted me to see a nutritionist, who informed me that I wasn’t eating enough. If I hadn’t kept that record, I think I would have thought I was just tired and not realized that it was a consistent trend that was affecting my training.
• Frequently review your notes. Go through them once at the end of the week, and again at the end of the month. This will help refresh your memory. This will also help you get better at writing them, because when you look back on your notes from the week before, you will realize the details you left out but need to include next time.  

Keeping a jiujitsu journal helps keep you focused on technique and helps organize your thoughts. It also helps you keep track of your progress and any injuries or illness. Although it can take an extra 15 minutes of your time each day, it’s definitely worth it to keep you progressing through advanced moves.

Liz started jiujitsu in 2011, got her blue belt in 2013, and has competed in 11 competitions.

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Building Respect

By Liz

This post was originally titled, “Building Respect as a Female Coach.” Meg and I are both coaches of primarily male students at our respective gyms, and thus feel we have unique perspectives and useful advice on coaching BJJ. However, I changed the title because I think the following is relevant to everyone, not just jiujitsu coaches. Because at the end of the day, building respect as a female coach is really about building respect for yourself as a person.

For a variety of historical, societal, and cultural reasons, women often find themselves struggling for the respect they deserve. As female coaches, we need to make a concerted effort to build rapport with our students because respect usually doesn’t come easily to us.

This post is meant to help with that by sharing some advice and experiences on building respect. I briefly talked about setting high standards, instilling confidence in others, and expressing compassion towards insecurity on the mat in a previous post. Here, I’m first going to discuss my thoughts on practicing courage and compassion by setting clear boundaries. Second, I’m going to share some practical tips on building respect and communicating value.

COURAGE AND COMPASSION

Building respect with your students is about striking a balance between courage and compassion. Or as I sometimes like to think, commanding respect is about being a chocolate-covered pretzel: salty and sweet at the same time.

What I mean by “courage” in this context is the act of firmly setting, clearly communicating, and consistently maintaining your standards and boundaries. Shout-out to Brene Brown and Kristin Neff (check out their books I’ve linked to here) for inspiring me in this arena.

First one needs to take the time to decide what the ground rules are going to be. For example, lateness will not be tolerated, and each student must do 1 burpee for every 1 minute they are late. No talking while I’m talking, and talking will result in getting kicked off the mat. Rude or inappropriate behavior will result in a firm talking-to after class.

Now here comes the hard part: sticking to your boundaries. This is the scary part for most of us. I know when I set out to punish a student, sometimes my voice gets shaky and face gets hot. It takes courage to put your foot down.

Think about any good parent, teacher, or coach you have had in your past. This is what sets them apart from the rest: they clearly communicated their standards, but also maintained their boundaries.

As soon as you let someone disregard a boundary you have clearly communicated to them, you show them that they can break rules with no consequences. You lose respect as an authority figure in that moment.

In addition to maintaining your boundaries, the other key to building mutual respect with your students is in setting high standards. I could keep going over mount escapes with my students every single week, but I make sure to keep them progressing through more and more challenging techniques because I know they can rise to the challenge.

By presenting them with a high standard and expecting them to live up to it, I communicate to them that I respect them as students able to execute challenging techniques, which instills in each one of them a sense of confidence and I gain respect as a teacher in the process.

After all, why should they try to raise your low standards if you communicate that you don’t believe in them?

There is one more crucial aspect to building respect as a coach: compassion. Setting boundaries is a key component of compassion. After all, how can you practice compassion with your students if they are walking all over you?  

Jiujitsu is an incredibly vulnerable and scary sport, and anyone who sets foot on the mat deserves major props just for trying it out. It’s a new thing for most people and so by approaching each person with compassion in knowing that person is insecure (because we all are insecure whether or not we’re on the mat, but especially on the mat), we engage in our shared humanity.

This does not mean letting anything fly because you feel bad for them. It means understanding that this person is going through a moment of suffering in insecurity, and to reach out to them with understanding, respect and kindness. Let them know they are brave, they are a valuable student whether or not they are “good,” and they are doing something good for themselves mentally and physically. Never forget your actions and words have the power to inspire or discourage other people.

Try reaching out to the new person on the mat to give them extra attention and praise, or show some advanced techniques to the top students. Consider publicly rewarding those who improve, help others, and try hard--not just the ones who can berimbolo or tap out fellow students.

COMMUNICATING VALUE

Building respect with others revolves around the following principle: people respond to you how you expect to be treated.

How does one communicate an expectation of respect?

We must first respect ourselves and approach our students with a genuine belief that we are high value. People can sense this. Your students can tell when you are shy or nervous, which shows them you don’t think of yourself as high value.

How can you expect anyone to respect you if you don't even respect yourself?

How can we cultivate in ourselves this notion of high value and effectively communicate our high value to others? We’re all insecure. So how do we get into the high-value mindset in order to establish respect from our students?

Here are some practical tips to get into the mindset that you are a valuable coach. This was actually adapted from a guide I randomly found on Reddit for pick-up game, but I’ve adapted it to fit my own life because I think it’s useful for all different kinds of situations.

1. Think positively and get into the persona

Create a persona for your jiujitsu coaching and force yourself to think this over and over (even if it isn't true yet or you don't believe it).

My persona is:

• I’m awesome
• I am a beast and master of jiujitsu 
• I frequently have people seeking my instruction
• My time is valuable and not to be wasted by slackers or disrespectful students
• Teaching jiujitsu is totally normal for me

Going back to the main principle I began with: people respond to you how you expect to be treated. So you need to develop a mindset of how you expect to be treated when you are coaching. What I expect:

• I’m here to have fun and learn from my students as much as they learn from me.
• My students appreciate my presence and my instruction; they are not late for class.
• My students respect me and are eager to learn from me; they do not talk when I’m talking or talk back to me. 
• My students are looking to me as a role model and are trying their best; they do not slack off during technique drilling or rolling.  

Drill these expectations in your head and respond to your students genuinely as if that is where you are coming from, even if you doubt yourself at first. This is a self-fulfilling prophecy: when you are expecting to find respect, you will start noticing the little things students do to show their respect--and you will be able to easily point out when students are actually disrespecting you.

You need to communicate to your students that instructing jiujitsu is completely normal for you. I’m not saying you should pretend you have all the answers when you don’t; it’s perfectly acceptable to say, “I don’t know.” But it’s important to communicate that you are totally confident when saying, “I don’t know.”

2. Not thinking negatively

Anytime you find yourself having self-deprecating thoughts, take 5-10 seconds and stop yourself. Take 5 minutes if you need to, but once you silence the negative thoughts, replace them with good thoughts and beliefs, using the above persona.

3. Memories

Make a list of your successes and your good memories of teaching and training jiujitsu. Maybe a win at a competition or a time when a student told you that you’ve inspired them. Lock those in and force yourself to remember them, and let them give you confidence.

4. The Process

Before instructing, get yourself into a good space. Relive your successes, and repeat your expectations and positive mindsets. Shut down any negative thoughts.

After the class, remember the session and again focus on your successes. Going through failures is fine, but once you think through them once, tell yourself, "I've learned everything I can from that, and thinking about it longer is just harmful," then shut it out. As you grow, focus on how much you have improved in your jiujitsu and your instruction.

These principles ring true for parents, teachers, coaches, friends, and significant others. It’s a balance between the salty and sweet, and one that can only be learned after making mistakes with mindful self-awareness. Believe in your high value and everything else will follow.

Liz has been training jiujitsu since 2011 and got her blue belt in 2013. 

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