I took advantage of the holiday break during semesters to work on my chaplain board certification packet with the hope of receiving both my M.Div. and board certification within a few months of each other.

One of the essays required that I discuss my self-care routines. Easy in that I have been discussing my self-care routine ad-nauseum for quite a while. Difficult in that having to think through what I did, when, and why can still be pretty raw (thinking the worst of the pandemic).

One self-care routine took me down a more pleasant memory lane: Back to my Nashville-Belmont University-Office of Campus Security-Crime Prevention Officer-Women’s Self-Defense Instructor days.

Back in the day, I taught Rape Aggression Defense for women. I created what I called R.A.D. fast and R.A.D. slow songs. All of the songs had a pump-you-up-girl-power-invincible vibe. The genres included Christian, country, pop, rock, rap, classic and contemporary. I played the fast songs as the girls arrived and as we practiced. I played the slow songs as we wrapped up the class.

My playlist grew each time I taught a class because I asked each student to select her fight song.

The last class consisted of a simulation exercise. During the simulation, my co-instructor put on the big red rubber suit and the girls practiced different fight scenarios. I played their chosen song during each simulation.

Afterwards, I encouraged the girls to think of the song as their theme song and to remember what they are capable of whenever they hear it – or to play it whenever they need to be reminded of their own abilities.

The playlist has not been updated in years but I still play it anytime I need a pick-me-up. Some songs remind me of the girls who chose the song and I can see her fighting in my mind.

Sometimes I play this old playlist in my car after an exhausting day at work. Sometimes I play it when I go jogging and need a little extra pep in my step. Sometimes I play it when I need or want to remember . . .

My most memorable student lived in a shelter for abused women. Because of their past trauma, preparation and execution of the class was done differently. Two of the main differences was that we had an on-site therapist, and my male instructor could not attend.

After much discussion, the girls elected to go through with the simulation with the male instructor. Before he put the suit on, he came to meet the women, and more importantly, to let the women get to know him.

In a typical class, women are not allowed to watch other women. It is designed that way to build up the anticipation in order to simulate as close as possible the natural emotional stimuli of an attack. The students for this class were permitted to watch in order to 1) calm their anxiety and 2) offer encouragement to one another.

During one scenario, my simulator – in full “Michelin Man” gear – stood behind one of the students. Weighing less than 100 pounds, she froze the moment she felt him standing behind her. I could feel her terror as she folded within herself. My aggressor took off his head gear and backed away from her. He understood that his mere presence was causing a PTSD reaction.

We immediately stopped the class and her therapist whisked her away. The rest of the class took time to debrief before deciding to continue.

Halfway through the class, she returned and wanted to try again. She stood in the middle of the room, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. My aggressor took his place behind her. We all held our breath.

My aggressor was approximately 5’10 and 250 pounds without the red man suite. The suit made this otherwise sweet, lovable, compassionate man look taller, bigger, and mean. My student looked tiny, and frail compared to him.

This time, instead of shrinking when she felt him behind her, she stood with her shoulders back, head held high, and she took a few deep breaths.

Then, the most amazing thing happened. A fierce warrior emerged. She opened her eyes and let out an ear-piercing “NOOOOOO” from the depths of her diaphragm.

Before any of us could comprehend what had happened, that tiny, scared little girl threw my aggressor into the door, breaking our only way in or out of the room.

This man, who knew what to expect and how to brace for a fight, lay there stunned. He hurt for days afterward.

After every class simulation, we sit and a circle to debrief. This class was no exception. Each student is given an opportunity to share her expectations, fears, or reasons for taking the class in the first place as well as her expectations and fears going into the simulation.

In most classes, we record the simulation and play it back. This gives me the chance to highlight what they did. It gives the simulator a chance to tell them what he felt. It gives the students the opportunity to see that they did something great.

We were not able to record this class, but we still debriefed. Since everyone watched everyone else, they acted as the video, retelling what they saw happening.

When it came to this girl, everyone raved. Her fellow housemates and therapist were proud. I and my simulator were proud. We had an injured simulator and broken door to prove her power.

She discovered a power and strength she never knew she had.

I often think about her – wonder where she is today – if she remembers that moment whenever she hears her fight song.