In life, we are sometimes given the ultimate choice. Give up, or get up.
Even at the tender age of 4, I was already practicing Taekwondo and giving my mum routine panic attacks thanks to my love of sports and a ‘daredevil nature’. While other kids played with dolls, I wanted to collect trophies in any sport that came with equipment and protection small enough to fit my little body. By the time I was a teenager, I was what they called an all-rounder — someone who excels in sports and plays every single game with inspiring zeal.
In school, teachers would normally put me in charge of co-curricular activities to lead other students in sports, and I led my team as captain in everything from basketball and netball to badminton and track & field. At age 13, I had my first international Taekwondo tournament representing Singapore. Sports were my passion. I wanted to compete all my life! I was young and strong, and nothing would get in my way — or so I thought.
When I was 16, the unthinkable happened. During a Taekwondo match, I made an awkward move that twisted my leg and caused my knee to completely fall apart. The pain that seared through my body told me it wasn’t going to be a typical injury you can just put ice on.
But it wasn’t.
I had a torn ligament, meniscus and a dislocated patella. The physical pain was excruciating, but it was overshadowed by the emotional agony and terror that I felt in my heart. I knew what it meant, and the doctors only confirmed my deepest fears. My injury was permanent. My life lay tattered in a cast vainly attached to my body. I wanted to get up and run into the past, scream at myself to be careful, and tell that girl her whole life would suddenly fall apart because of a harmless kick!
When the doctors discouraged operation, I argued and begged my mother to make them reconsider. To an athlete, a severe knee injury is practically a death sentence. You’ll be able to walk again, but that’s about it. The doctors said there was simply no guarantee that my knee would be whole again. Surgery could make my situation worse, and that I would be in pain one way or the other. I was living in a nightmare. One that transcended night and day and reminded me of who I once was through shocks of paralysing pain. I was in the prime of my youth, a crippled mess that spent her days lying on a pillow soaked in tears. It reminded me of a show I once watched about a violinist who fractured her wrist after a fall and would never be able to play again. I felt her pain. Her tears were my own. I knew the nightmare of having to surrender what you love. It was too much to bear, and I could feel my passions in life slipping away.
When people learned of my injury, they did everything possible to stop me from playing. I wasn’t allowed on any sports teams or to participate in physical education classes (which was compulsory in school). I was cut from all of my Taekwondo tournaments and sidelined in any activity that involved anything more extreme than walking. To add injury to insult, my knee bone would randomly pop out of its socket, causing a crushing combination of pain and embarrassment in front of my classmates. This was the story of my life finishing high school — with my whole life ahead of me (I know, right?).
I think some people in my position might have taken the opportunity (if you can call it that) to change direction in life. My friends were always supportive and tried to encourage me to find other interests that didn’t involve my legs, so I joined the Dragon Boat Team, where I just paddled. I wanted to believe that playing sports was only a stage in my life, but the truth was, it had always been my life. I was desperate and torn. Do I hold on to my hope? Do I give up and find something else to do with my life before it’s too late?
I decided that I would move on, but I would never give up hope. So I went into Sport & Wellness Management. For 3 years, I dedicated myself to the study of Physiology and Personal Training among other subjects. Every day, I learned something new about how muscles can support joints, prevent injury, and actually rid your body of pain. The undying hope inside of me whispered softly that my journey was only beginning. So I held on to my passion and kindled it each day, no longer focused on simply training hard — but training smart. Like my dad always used to say, “Study smart, not hard!” It meant more to me than ever.
I became familiar with workout angles, techniques, and movements I never knew about. I slowly applied my growing knowledge to myself, and began to see results. My pain was dissipating. Day by day, I was getting stronger. I began to move and walk with confidence. My knee bone no longer popped out of its socket after training all of the surrounding muscles to hold it in place. I could sashay with confidence!
My dream of recovery was slowly becoming a reality. I could have simply turned my back on it all and had a different future. Who knows, I could be working in a corporate job, with my limp leg resting comfortably under a desk.
But I know I’m not alone in those moments when I asked, “Why can’t anyone help me?” as I fought desperately for the future I wanted. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I wanted to give up and just wallow in self-pity. But I also believe that everything happens for a reason — no matter how painful it is. And all because of my accident, I now specialise in coaching and helping people recover from injuries, heal their bodies, and become stronger in all stages of their lives. I went from being an athlete, to using my passion for the greater good. Now I realise this is the life I always wanted, this is the one that is meant for me.
I always felt on top of the world whenever I won a gold medal, but it doesn’t even compare to helping people be their best so they can enjoy their lives. Helping every single client became my purpose in life and with every success, I feel like I’ve won a gold medal!
To me, the sky is the limit. There is no end to knowledge and growth. How about you? Will you be climbing Mount Kinabalu at age 70? Or how about running around with your grandchildren like you’re in the prime of your youth? There is so much you can achieve, as long as you get up — and never give up!
