It was probably 2009...
I must have been training for 3 or 4 months and was very vocal about wanting to be a fighter, so I'd always ask my teacher about when he was going to let me fight. Looking back I understand why he did what he did, but I definitely don't agree with doing this with a beginner, aspiring fighter. Ok... So one day he decided to put me sparring against a 155 guy who was preparing to have his pro debut. I must've been 120lbs or something. What I remember is falling on my butt and immediately starting to unwrap my hands. Not like "I'm done with his shit", but just automatically. Then I learned I got hit with an overhand, but I don't remember any of it. People who were at the scene told me I was acting like I was in another world. After I unwrapped my hands I started to dress in my clothes like putting my pants over my shorts and my shirts over my sweat-drenched jerseys lol then I started asking the same questions over and over again like, I would pick my shoes and ask everybody around me "are these mine?" like multiple times. From what I've been told my teacher asked the fighter who KO'd me to go with me to the bus terminal and so he did. Then he told me I was walking the street like I was drunk or drugged so he had to hold my hand hahahha when I finally got to the bus terminal he put me inside my bus and Idk how I was able to pay for the trip back home, but apparently I did. I did the worst and slept inside the bus and only woke up with the guy who collects the tickets shaking me and saying "yo, wake up mfker! It's the end of the line". I'm very lucky that this was exactly where I was supposed to drop from the bus.
Now I'm at the street, 3 blocks from my house and I don't know how to get there. I don't know how much time I was there wandering and looking around, but I finally got home and went straight to my room to sleep again.
So the next day my dad is banging at my door telling me I'll be late to work. I wake up with a taste in my mouth so terrible as if I had make out with a corpse. I'm also sweaty as a mofo because I had pants, shorts, underwear, socks, and two shirts in my body.
I was so lost that when I picked my phone and saw what day it was I was in complete shock that it was my birthday hahaahhahaha I went to the bathroom and saw my upper lip looking like a chorizo. It had an infected looking cut inside.
After taking a shower I went to the kitchen and my dad saw me and said "ouch! Someone really hit you" and that was so hard to hear that I started crying. I mean, like a toddler. Crying to the point where I couldn't articulate a phrase. It was like all the doubt that plagued me came like a thousand bulls running over me. I was a rollercoaster of emotions which I couldn't handle. My dad also always hated that I wanted to be a fighter and shit... But he did support me in the moment and calmed me down.
So I went to work (I worked at a call center) and started to wonder what happened, so I called my teacher and asked him. He was very evasive about giving me any details, he was just like "well, I think we should give more time before you can go to a tournament" but when I asked him "who" and "how" he wouldn't told me. Shitty fucking move. But I'm over it. Apparently I haven't become (very) mentally ill so it's whatever. I reckon he did everything he did because he didn't know any better.
Another shitty side effect is that I was VERY depressed for a couple days, probably weeks. Like, I had an existential void, for real. Nothing made me excited, nothing made sense those days.
Anyway, so that's the story of when I got knocked out and had my worst anniversary lol
Ps: years after that and I've sparred that guy again. Made him quit with a liver shot he he he...
