How to Lose Everything and Keep Going
Most people think the hero’s journey is about the moment they win. The gold medal. The IPO. The perfect checkmate. The belt.
It’s not.
Often, the real story happens after they lose it all. After they hit rock bottom.
I experienced it firsthand and learned the power of losing everything.
And so has Miesha Tate, a former UFC bantamweight champion and pioneering mixed martial artist.
Today, her claim to fame goes beyond the octagon. She’s now a powerful voice for resilience and reinvention—sharing her journey through depression and hitting rock bottom
We talked for over an hour on my podcast (link below). I had no idea what to expect. I know nothing about UFC.
I’ve never been choked out. I’ve never broken my nose in front of a roaring crowd (only in silence, metaphorically, many times).
But I know what it feels like to think, “If I just win this next thing… then I’ll be happy.”
She thought winning the belt would fix her. She thought finally, finally, she’d be enough.
It didn’t.
“I was the problem.”
That’s what she said.
Not the world. Not her opponents. Not her broken nose. Her.
The same mind that turned her into a champion—waking up early, lifting weights, watching hours of footage, getting kneed in the face until her soul left her body—was also the mind that built a home out of fear, overtraining, and denial.
And like any home built on the wrong foundation…
Eventually, it burned to the ground.
Here’s what she said that resonated most: Every time it burns down, the bad burns with it and what’s left is gold, the stuff that goes beyond pretending—and a real opportunity to build it back better.
I’ve gone broke. I’ve lost friendships. I’ve let anxiety drive me to the edge. And each time, I thought the next project, the next relationship, the next win would fix it.
It never did.
It was me.
The Blood, the Break, and the Truth
Her first fight?
She got her nose shattered. Blood gushing. She’s in a chokehold, leaking into a growing red puddle.
She lost that fight. Her corner threw in the towel.
And that night, a champion fighter was born.
But the belt wasn’t the cure. She got the fame. The money. The gold. And then she realized: none of it fixed her. Her relationship was toxic. She didn’t know who she was outside of her achievements. She couldn’t feel anything anymore. Not even in a fight.
We all have a belt.
The fantasy that if we just:
- Get the job
- Sell the startup
- Make a million
- Win him or her back
- Go viral
…then everything will click.
But if you’re broken when you win it, the belt just reflects a broken you.
That’s what happened to Miesha. She hit rock bottom.
How to Get Unstuck
We talked about solutions. Antidepressants came up. She’s not a fan.
In the United States, about 1 in 6 adults (roughly 17%) have used antidepressants. Usage has risen steadily over the past two decades, especially in high-income countries.
Miesha doesn’t like them because people don’t need help or that they don’t always help. But because sometimes you need the rock bottom.
You need to feel all of it. The sadness. The rage. The confusion. The grief. The doubt. Not so you get stuck there—but so you can finally move through it.
That’s what happened to her. She kept pushing. Compartmentalizing. Smiling on camera while she died inside.
Until one day, she just got in her car with her dog and got herself out of a toxic situation.
No plan. No map. Just away.
And somewhere on that road, she found a pinhole of light.
Lessons From a Broken Nose
Here’s what got her out of the hole:
- Winning doesn’t fix you. Only you can fix you.
- Pain is a message. Don’t mute it. Listen.
- Action matters more than clarity. If you don’t know what to do, move. Take one step toward the pinhole of light.
- Let it burn. You’ll build it back better.
- You can do hard things. That’s not a motivational quote. It’s a
Miesha ended our conversation talking about farming, raising her kids, and building a toxin-free life.
She said she’s fighting again, but on her own terms.
Not because she needs the belt. Not because she needs to.
But because she wants to.
And that’s when you know the home you’ve built—the one inside your soul—is finally strong.
Thanks, Miesha.
