Corrie's Story
Corrie shares how boxing gave him something to focus on in difficult times, and how he's bringing what he learned into his own mental health advocacy work.
I don’t speak for sympathy or reward, I speak to let people know they are not broken, they are not alone, and their future can be bigger than what they are currently facing.
About Corrie:
Growing up I was different – I was a kid with ADHD, Aspergers, and Tourette’s. I had a difficult childhood – my mum and my dad separated when I was very young and I was raised by my grandparents until I was around 9 years old. My mum was a very young mum and my dad wasn’t around – he spent some time in prison.
I was highly medicated; when I was around 12/13 and taking all kinds of medication, some would put me to sleep straight after school and some would make me overly hyper. Because I was different to the other kids, I was severely, relentlessly bullied once I started secondary school. My mum met my stepdad, and my little brother was born – after another child was in the mix things changed for me at home. I felt like an outcast in my own home. With the bullying at school, this increased tensions at home and I was kicked out at an early age – from 16 I was in supported living facilities. For a long time, my life felt defined by what I couldn’t control.
The turning point
I was with someone for a while, which ended badly. After this relationship finished I had nowhere to go and I ended up homeless. I went to the local council and was put into temporary accommodation. I was housed alongside people suffering with severe mental illness, addiction etc. I was off medication and went through bad depression whilst living there to the point I tried to voluntarily section myself.
I just needed some help – when you are trying to turn off, to wind down, and you have others screaming next to you, scratching the walls above you, it was impossible to turn off your own brain, even just to sleep. There was a 24-hour gym across the road – a normal commercial gym. Out of desperation and for some kind of release, there was a boxing bag and I just started hitting it – every night it became an addiction and a focus.
The physical expression gave me mental relief and with it a sense of direction I hadn’t felt before. I decided it was my outlet and I wanted to see where this could go. There was an addict that lived a few floors below – I asked him to come with me one night and it also helped him. He got into a routine and he did really well. This was part of why I wanted to really get involved with the mental health advocation and help anyone I can in the process.
Recovery and healing
I found boxing as a release – an outlet. I fell in love with the sport and people around it – the coaches, the pros, the other people training. It’s a surreal experience. As a fighter it is an egotistical world but, in my gym especially, you see people from different paths of life come together; it’s inspiring.
I did a charity match in 2023 which gave me a taste for it. I started going to an amateur gym, which wasn’t the best for me as being 26 its mostly younger kids, but I committed fully to training. I was showed the boxing scene and how it works. I didn’t have a coach, but I was training hard, sparring here and there. I didn’t win my first fight, I lost on a razor-thin decision, but this made me more determined. I was training the same day after my fight, but along that journey it has remained my message – boxing is medicine.
With all the struggles I’ve had from childhood to now I now am so passionate to help others, get out my message, and the boxing and mental health advocation go hand in hand for me.
Life today
Later I moved to my current gym where I have remained ever since. Walking into that space feels like breathing again – it is where I regulate, grow and exist without needing to explain myself. I had a second fight a few months after – and lost on points. Instead of quitting, I used that experience to reinforce the message I speak about – winning isn’t always about outcomes. Sometimes the win is refusing to quit on yourself. Progress doesn’t end because you lose – it continues because you choose to keep going.
I had two fights this year – and I won both. In a couple of weeks I return to the same stage to fight that I lost on last year.
Message of hope
I get up and hold a beacon of hope up – even though I am drowning – to show other people they can do that. I feel like I’m a pincushion – I can take it because I have been through it and I have been at war with myself. Through speaking, I aim to help audiences reframe struggle, understand neurodivergence beyond stereotypes, and recognise that purpose can come from unexpected places.
I don’t speak for sympathy or reward, I speak to let people know they are not broken, they are not alone, and their future can be bigger than what they are currently facing. If my story helps even one person feel less trapped, then it is worth telling.
Corrie Mustafa 