Most of the people who come to us — nurses and care workers, retail staff, council officers, lone workers — don’t want to fight. They’re not here for sparring.

They’re here because something’s happened — or nearly did — and now they don’t feel safe.

Often, it’s not the incident itself that rattles them most. It’s what comes after. The adrenaline spike on the train home. The replaying of every decision. The guilt. The doubt. The voice in your head asking Did I do enough? Did I overreact? Should I have said something else?

That lingering aftershock — not the physical confrontation — is what sticks. And that’s why so much of our work isn’t about how many technique you can remember o how hard you can strike.  t’s about recognising how you respond to threat.

Do you freeze? Fire up? Do you second-guess yourself afterwards, even if you did the right thing?

Until you get clear on that, no amount of technique will truly stick. Because it’s not just about what you do — it’s about what’s going on inside you when it matters

I remember a course in Manchester where one woman said something that’s stayed with me. She’d spent years managing other people’s emotions, even when they were being aggressive or threatening.

At work, she felt it was her job to calm people down, even if she didn’t feel safe. And during the training, the same instinct kicked in, she kept trying to keep everyone else comfortable, instead of looking after herself.

What she was learning wasn’t just a skillset — it was a mindset shift. Undoing a lifetime of putting others first, even when it put her at risk.

I often say: self-defence starts with self-awareness. It starts with one simple but powerful question:

The decision to step away, to speak up, to ask for help early - that’s not just technique. That’s permission. Permission to protect yourself. To take up space. To prioritise your wellbeing, even when it feels unfamiliar.

And yeah, it can get messy. You’ll probably do a few awkward drills. You might get frustrated. You might cry. That’s fine. Growth isn’t clean.

But every time you lean into that discomfort — every time you say no when your instinct is to keep the peace — you’re building something real.

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Over the coming months, I’ll share more stories from our training rooms across the UK, stories of people discovering unexpected strength, shaking off shame, and learning that self-defence can be just as much about kindness as strength.

There won’t be flashy demos or tidy endings. Just the real, human work of unlearning old habits, facing fear, and choosing — day by day — to feel safer in your own skin.

At Everyday Self Defence, we help people in real-world jobs build not just physical skills, but the emotional tools to stay safe and steady under pressure. Whether you work in healthcare, retail, the public sector or a corporate role, our bespoke de-escalation and self-defence courses are built to fit your world.