Rolling with the punches: Boxing with MS and how it’s teaching me to counterpunch the condition.

Who’d have thought that a lifelong, highly trained musician that relies on her hands, fingers and face working in perfect harmony would find the solace she needed in a boxing gym?! Let’s back it up a little and I’ll tell you how I got there.

It’s early summer of 2018 and I feel like I’m walking around on a slightly wooden leg. Nothing major, just odd and I put it down to perhaps bailing off my paddleboard awkwardly. My ‘wooden leg’ continued and I developed a really sore lower back ache that didn’t go away even with painkillers or osteopath sessions. The kicker came one night as I was playing a gig in Cornwall somewhere, and I got struck with food poisoning from a dodgy curry the night before. Playing a saxophone whilst trying to keep it together was an experience I’d never willingly repeat!! Thankfully I wasn’t publicly shamed by it but the next day I lost the ability to use my ankle or flex my foot. If there were two ailments that shouldn’t be put together, EVER, it’s having an untrustworthy gut and a leg that really doesn’t want to work!

Fast forward a month or so and I’m sat chilling out one afternoon when I felt a sensation go down my arm almost like it had been given a general anaesthetic. It happened suddenly and I couldn’t coordinate my arm or use my fingers properly. Feeling a tad horrified and shocked, I did the FAST stroke test to make sure that most other things were working, and I made an appointment with the GP. My fingers worked intermittently for a few days until they really didn’t, and I lost all useful strength, coordination and function. That coupled with a leg that wasn’t working properly either and a lower back ache from hell, I wondered what had gone so darn wrong. Slight panic ensued as I was due back in school after the summer holidays to look after my fabulous firecracker kids within a few weeks of all this happening. How do you begin to try and explain all of this when the answers aren’t there as yet?!

Cue a plethora of appointments and the uneasy feeling when they mentioned the potential for neurological issues. My first instinct was to get straight on the rehab. I knew enough that if it was my brain struggling then time was absolutely of the essence to try and get things working. I also started to consider why this was happening to me and that’s been a fascinating journey of discovery and reflection – more on that later.

My leg rehab consisted of walking to the beach (to my fave bar!), resolutely refusing to give up my beloved flip flops or use a stick – it didn’t actually occur to me to use one. Usually that walk takes just under half an hour and it was taking me closer to an hour to get there. I watched as octogenarians overtook me like sprightly crickets. The worst thing was having to ask hubby to cut up my food as I really couldn’t handle the knife after trying for ages whilst the food cooled and my frustration burned.

For rehabbing my hand and fingers, I used physio eggs to build strength and dexterity along with using my musical instruments. I learned to do everything left-handed at the same time as rehabbing my right hand, and it was possibly the slowest and most arduous process I’ve ever engaged in! Some weeks I’d see progress and other weeks it felt like no progress had been made whatsoever. Picking up the sax, an instrument that I know well, and being only able to play the musical equivalent of three blind mice from the legendary beginner’s ‘Tune A Day’ book was utterly savage and devastating. My fingers behaved like drunken half-squashed spiders and wouldn’t coordinate or stay in the right place on the keys. The piano was a right off and I feared I’d lost the ability to play it forever, so much so that I passed it on to a school to give it a new lease of life. I couldn’t bear to look at it gathering dust and acknowledge the dire state my hand was in. It took 3 months before I was back out gigging on the sax with my fingers strapped up and braced with K Tape to keep them in the right place, and it wasn’t just about rehabbing the fingers to be functional again. Even though I could still make good sense of reading music, I had to build new pathways in the brain to be able to read music and translate it into a physical and accurate response from my fingers. It was the weirdest thing to have something so familiar become so unfamiliar but still recognisable – reachable but also a world away from me. I’m not sure I can really articulate that to pay enough homage to the sheer gravitas of it! A step on from that, learning to improvise again was an interesting journey. Reading or holding a chord sequence in my head whilst trying to be imaginative and get my fingers to execute whatever I was thinking was another level of work. It was a roller coaster to deal with – desperate hope, crushing disappointment and steely determination all shared the same time and space for months on end. By the time I met a neurologist I’d rehabbed the worst of it, and he sent me for more tests to confirm his suspicions of MS. The aftermath of the lumbar puncture was memorable! I felt fine over the weekend, went back to work on the Monday and copped the dreaded headache – if you know, you know! It’s like having a nest of furious wasps in your head and it laid me out for 5 days. Before making it home from school, I ended up flaked out in the book corner of our Nurture classroom with one kid sitting next to my shoulder reading The Gruffalo to me as I was trying not to puke, and another kid who told me that I “looked like shit”….(their way of offering something vaguely caring, and a solid indication that they were going to behave for a bit – top kid).

The diagnosis eventually came via a matter of fact and soulless phone call along with the difficult choices of medication, and as MS in my brain was described as rapidly evolving, I was offered the strong stuff. The meds present another challenge in themselves and that’s perhaps an insight for another time. Going through all of this and being diagnosed only months before the pandemic started to happen was surreal and it certainly added an extra layer of uncertainty and worry. Being on meds that drop the immune system like a stone for months was terrifying!

You’ll be glad to know that all the blood, sweat and tears paid off as 8 years later I feel I’ve regained over 90% of dexterity and function. My ability to sightread music has come back supercharged and I’ve regained all my instruments under my hands. Don’t get me wrong, the work and rehab continue daily to the point it’s just a natural part of life. I still have my physio eggs and still use my instruments. Random things still happen to me frequently, and I improvise, adapt and overcome whatever this strange condition chucks at me. I constantly live with a gluey hand, a leg that can tighten up with spasticity, occasional heat intolerance, other random symptoms that come and go and I’ve learned to work with it all and literally roll with the punches. It’s not easy with symptoms being so unpredictable but I’ve learned to handle it with grace (most of the time…). I’m currently fighting again with my saxophone as my chops went last August and haven’t yet returned to a satisfactory level of function. More work in progress….sigh…

MS like having a crap housemate you’d rather not live with. We’re civil to each other most of the time but we can clash! I’m fully aware that there might be a day when I suddenly can’t do something (or anything if I’m very unlucky), but as each day dawns and I wiggle my toes and fingers before standing up, I declare that 'today ain’t that day'. So how have I ended up in a boxing gym and why?....

Since everything went awry, I’ve still always been up for pushing and challenging myself whilst learning to listen to my needs and my body’s capacity. Having had very little help from the neuro team, it’s put me in a position where I’ve taken responsibility for my health, and I’ve learned to implicitly trust my intuition.

Advice from the various MS societies and healthcare professionals advocate for making life less stressful which I do agree with wholeheartedly. MS and other autoimmune conditions are often linked to chronic stress, and I’ve spent the last few years honing life into something that resembles more peace. I learned to meditate and I generally live life in a present and mindful state. I followed my long-held dream to retrain and become a counsellor, and I’ve slowly but surely built a life that flows. Managing MS is like a full-time job, and there have been some parts of life that have totally changed, mostly for the better but challenges obviously remain. It’s a brutal teacher, but I feel MS been an insightful gift which has forced me to confront a lot of stuff and deal with it!

In November 2025, I randomly saw a post on social media about non-contact Parkinson’s boxing sessions run by a local boxing gym. Now, I’ve always been curious about what it’d be like to box - my grandfather boxed and I wish I’d asked him about it. I messaged the gym and asked whether an MSer would be welcome alongside the Parkies and the next thing I knew, I was headed into town walking towards the gym. I walked past it a few times and nearly bottled it. As much as I’d rehabbed to being functional and looking ‘normal’, I had doubts as to whether I’d be able to cope with the physical demands of boxing. Being middle-aged and at ‘that’ time in life, I’d managed to lose some of the timber that had piled on but

I wouldn’t have said I was particularly fit. I’d been stuck on a plateau for a year and nothing I did or didn’t do seemed to help. I’d read too many articles that talked about elevated cortisol in this period of life and to go and beast myself physically probably wouldn’t help. Again, intuition wins again and I’m starting to see signs of fitness building and I’m definitely in better shape than I was! With MS, the societies and health professionals advocate for gentle exercise like walking, swimming or yoga, and not to push ourselves too far but I didn’t ever want to embrace a self-limiting mindset. Over the years with MS, I’ve done plenty of walking, swimming, gym work and yoga but never felt hugely satisfied or particularly committed and I’d end up feeling chronically fatigued. There’s something magic in the HIIT type training with boxing that seems to suit my system well. I’ve maintained 2-3 sessions per week at various intensities, and I always come out totally spent but very energised. MS affects people in so many ways, and our individual capability varies hugely so I’m not advocating for everyone to push themselves as hard as I do, but I strongly believe if the capacity and capability is there, just go for it with whatever floats your boat. Boxing has been the best thing I have done for myself for so many reasons. Here’s what it teaches me….

Walking into that gym for the first time I felt so nervous and awkward. Within that first session though I twigged that I’d found a space I hadn’t realised I needed. To be with other people who struggle neurologically but had a mindset like mine felt amazing. I felt safe with them and safe with the coaches and I’ve since become very fond of them all. After unleashing hell into a heavy bag, a lightbulb went off in my head, and I felt that I’d found a way of processing things without saying a word. The somatic release was noticeable and incredible.

Building on that first session:

Boxing has given me a space to get angry with MS and unleash it in a safe and disciplined space. From the get-go, I’d focused on rehabbing and becoming functional again and hadn’t given myself the space to process the bewilderment of coping with such a life-altering occurrence. Over time, I’ve been able to dissipate the anger of this all happening before I’d even hit 40, being in the prime of life, settled and knowing where I was going. I’d done plenty of stillness and gentleness, but what I actually needed was to let loose in a way that felt raw, honest and authentic.

Deeper processing has also happened. Since the start of the MS journey, I’ve always been curious as to why it manifested and I’ve done a lot of inner work around that. It makes absolutely no sense for a body to destroy itself and my hunch is that it’s trying to protect me. It’s trying to tell me something. MS attacks the protective myelin sheath around nerves, so signals fail, messages don’t get through and the result is varying levels of disability. It’s a bit like a dodgy old phone charger when the wires start to fray and it doesn’t charge the phone properly. I’d ask myself questions like ‘what’s getting on my nerves?’ and ‘what expectations of me stop when I can’t do something?’, ‘how does MS help me meet my needs?’ In a nutshell, I came to understand that I’d historically suppressed myself to keep others happy and that some boundaries were certainly not as robust as they needed to be. My own needs often went on the back burner whilst I tended to other people’s. Over a long time, that’s pretty toxic for any system to maintain and I’d been living in a chronic functional freeze state. Boxing is helping me to unfreeze and express myself wholly. As a counsellor, training taught me how to use my empathy effectively and not to carry other people’s lives and stories as my own. Boxing gives me the space to ground my own lightning and shed any residual stress. Learning to say no to things and to be mindful of my own capacity has been enlightening and freeing. The gym has given me a space to also take stock of where I’ve come from and how I’ve got to where I am now - I’ve allowed myself to feel proud of the grit and resilience I’ve consistently shown. The adage, ‘you never know how strong you are until it’s the only choice you have’ rings true and I’ve learned to trust that the strength I need will always appear.

On a neurological level, boxing and the process of learning is fantastic for enhancing neuroplasticity (building new neural pathways in the brain to compensate for a loss of function). On top of the group classes I do, I’m lucky to have regular one-to-one sessions with the boss, Paul, who’s one helluva coach. He misses nothing and he’s teaching me the more technical foundations of boxing. He’s an understated, solid fella who will challenge me but intuitively knows when to back off. My trust in him and the feedback I receive is helping me to build trust in myself and my abilities. He consistently shows up for me and the other members of his gym, and I enjoy putting in the work in return. Having trained in music to an elite level, the art of learning the foundations in boxing is a similar process which I love. I understand it. It takes time, dedication and practice and it’s great to experience the breakthroughs and work on the things I find tricky. It’s also helping me to temper my perfectionist tendencies. I work to a high standard in all things, but I’m learning to be content with bringing 100% of whatever I’ve got to give rather than striving to constantly execute perfection. The process of the journey is worth its weight in gold, and the dynamic outcome is in the satisfaction of building fitness, coordination and confidence along with renewing a trust in my capabilities. Reining in the perfectionism has let my life flow with more ease.

On a physical level, boxing is drawing on strengths and abilities I didn’t know were there. My mindset has always been robust, and I’ve been able to see and deal with life as a series of lessons, the good, the bad and the ugly. I’m building a new relationship with my body and understanding where its strengths and weaknesses are and seeing how I’ve previously compensated for the bits of me that went wrong. To rebuild physical strength feels like I’m bringing my whole self and system into balance.

On a somatic level, boxing is a physical representation of boundaries and choice and it’s perhaps the most transformative element for me. It’s a space that demands presence and visibility. There’s literally nowhere to hide! Ok, I’m not sparring (even though I’d love to!), but when working on the mitts or heavy bags I have to commit and give it everything I’ve got. The mitts aren’t wanting a meek apology from me; they want my power or speed. Seeing how I’d flank and avoid direct contact has been interesting to witness as it’s a direct reflection on how I’ve probably done that in the outside world. As time has gone on, I’m getting more comfortable in the ring with ‘going towards’ and staying in contact with potential (pretend) conflict. I’m learning to stand my ground.

The jab is your range finder and a barrier to keep someone where you want them. That’s a great metaphorical boundary and to exercise it physically helps to embed an ever-updating psyche.

The cross feels amazing when it lands in the pocket. That badass power shot comes up from the feet, through the hips and torso, through the shoulder before being neatly delivered through the glove with a sharp snap. When it flows and lands right, the sound of it landing in the mitt or the bag and the feedback in my hands feels incredible! It’s like a release for every ‘no’ I didn’t say or for every time I wasn’t able to express myself for whatever reason. I get to choose how I hit and how hard I hit.

The neurological, physical and somatic feedback is absolutely having a positive effect outside of the gym. Boxing is allowing me to unfreeze and respond to life more congruently. I don’t have to stand there and just take whatever the world wants to chuck at me. I can metaphorically slip, roll, pivot, counter, jab, cross, hook or defend in response to external stimulus. Where I spend a lot of life being focused and as still as a heron whilst holding space for others, balancing that with explosive power and movement has felt liberating. The boxing gym is the one place I can selfishly show up just for myself and turn off the noise and expectations from the rest of the world. I don’t have to explain myself. As I work individually with Paul or within the group classes, I leave at the end of a session feeling more seen and understood than I ever have done in a doctor’s or neurologist’s office – another important part of the puzzle in being able to unfreeze myself.

I’m learning to claim my space and be myself with far less apology - life is big enough to contain us all just as we are.

I’m aware that for many MSers, their unique journey is full of challenges that can make life beyond difficult. With this condition, it can affect any part of the body at any time and symptoms vary between being a mild inconvenience to being seriously disabling. I’m certainly not wanting to diminish or dismiss anyone’s experience of living with MS by sharing my own experience. I’ve come back from having lost my right side and I’ve maintained functionality but there are others who haven’t had the same outcome. It’s a relentless condition and none of us can escape the challenges it throws at us.

My takeaway tips are:

·      Do what you can with what you’ve got. Start where you are and gradually build on it.

·      Doing something, however small, is better than doing nothing. Don’t wait for others to provide you with answers. Use your intuition and find a way through your challenges. Ask for help when needed.

·      Learn to trust yourself – you’re more resilient and skilful than you realise.

·      Mindset is a choice – choose wisely.

·      Do things that bring joy into your life. We all need a bit of that!!

Books I’ve read to support my journey:

The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk.

When The Body Says No, the cost of hidden stress by Gabor Maté.

The Brain’s Way Of Healing by Norman Doidge.

The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge.

The Secret Language Of The Body by Jennifer Mann and Karden Rabin.

A Healing Space by Matt Licata.

The Power Of Now by Eckhart Tolle.

Authentic, how to be yourself and why it matters by Prof Stephen Joseph.

Man’s Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl.

Anchored by Deb Dana.

What Happened To You? by Dr Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey.

The Dark Side Of The Light Chasers by Debbie Ford.

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

I May Be Wrong by Björn Natthiko Lindeblad.

Music As Medicine by Daniel Levitin.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/5b5fee_9a72feabd40e4abb87a0eded068a89f7/720p/mp4/file.mp4

A snippet of mitt drills - always learning, always improving.