By Charlotte Forster
There was a time when I wanted to disappear.
I spent years believing that being smaller, and taking up less space, was the ultimate goal. Food was my enemy. My body was a battleground. Every day was a war between what I wanted and what I thought I deserved. Strength was something to be feared and was too big, and shrinking felt like the only way to stay safe. A way that many women are taught to survive.
And then, I found movement.
Yoga was my first introduction to moving in a positive way. It was the first time I moved my body with intention, not as punishment but as a way to feel. To connect. To exist in a way that wasn’t about disappearing but about being present. That practice led me to barre, strength training, and Pilates—each one teaching me more about what my body could do, not just what it looked like.
And eventually, it became my job. Teaching groups about movement. Making it fun and empowering.
When Budokon entered my life, I never imagined it would lead me to a Jiu Jitsu mat. And through it, Melayne Shayne (Co-founder of Budokon) showed me what it truly means to be a powerful woman—one who moves with both strength and deep, unwavering love for self and others.
This fusion of martial arts and movement became the bridge between who I was and who I was becoming. It led me straight into the world of Jiu Jitsu—a sport that shook me in ways I never expected. It made me cry, not just from its intensity, but from the truth it forced me to confront.
For years, I had shrunk away from touch, from closeness, from anything that made me feel vulnerable. And now, here I was, tangled up with people twice my size, held down, locked in positions that awakened memories I had fought to bury. But I stayed. I breathed. I learned.
I’ll never forget a purple belt who used to smash me, pressing me into the mats—in the midst of it, he would say: “Breathe, Charlotte. Just breathe.”
Jiu jitsu forced me to trust—not just my body but the people around me. I had to believe that my training partners weren’t there to hurt me, that strength wasn’t something to be feared, that I wasn’t fragile. I had to redefine what power meant. It wasn’t about control through restriction; it was about expansion. About taking up space. About becoming someone who could stand her ground, set boundaries, and own her strength with pride.
It’s still a journey. One that will never truly be over. But every time I step on the mat, I remind myself: I am here. I am strong. I am worthy. I no longer move to disappear—I move to become stronger.
And I’m definitely still at the beginning—just about two years into my jiu jitsu journey. Most of the time, it feels like I know absolutely nothing, which is probably true. But at the same time, I can feel it’s not just my mind learning techniques; my body is also absorbing and embodying the movement in a way that feels truly special to me.
And that has made all the difference.
So here’s my reminder to you:
No matter what you’re going through, you are worthy of love—especially the love you give yourself (maybe by stepping on to the mat and roll). Whether you find it by stepping onto the mats, dancing it out, or moving in a way that makes you feel alive, hold onto that spark. Find the parts of your story that make you smile and build your life around them.
Because life is precious, and if you’re reading this, you’re still here. So go kick ass.
