I don't know about you, but I love a good battle story.

Really though, can you tick off your top ten movies? Books? Stories? I can (I have had a lot of practice with this).

I'll save you from the list, but know this: the unifying factor in each is the shared element of conflict.

Now, this element varies. In some, it is the element of good versus evil played out over the lifetime of an unknowing child (read: I am a child of the Harry Potter Generation. Ravenclaw, in case you were wondering.) that ends in a great battle.

Or a set of stories about a brave family of children, each thrown into their own adventures of self-discovery and victory over evil: one-on-one battles, great floods, battles on the cellular level, or in towns that are a little too perfect to be believable. (Anyone else a fan of Madeline L'Engle?)

My book favorites tend to turn towards individual battles. I love when people, specifically the good guy, come out on top. Redemption is my life's song, and when I see my story echoed in writing? Man, that's where it's at for me.

But my movies? They haven't changed much over the past ten to fifteen years:

Braveheart.

Gladiator.

The Patriot.

Lately I have added the new Star-Trek movies to the list. I could watch them over and over.

It may seem like I have a penchant for good-looking men in partial clothing, who also happen to be soldiers. Or just Mel Gibson.

There may be an element of truth to that; but I think more of us than just me love these stories and movies for more than manly men or cool battle scenes. I love them all because there is a seemingly insurmountable problem—one that has us holding our breath, clenching our fists, hiding the book in the freezer—that is overcome by sheer tenacity, integrity, and bravery—usually with a little help from friends, and always with hard work and some sort of sacrifice (be it a moment of selflessness or someone's life).

So, sportspunk. A story set in a realm/world/universe/society where there is little to no violence, typically, with conflicts scheduled to literally battle it out in an arena, field, gym, track; and battle it out to the death.

My mind instantly shoots to the Roman Empire and gladiators: the masses showing up to not only witness, but cheer on, one contender versus another while they kill the other person. But in scifi form, so the arena turns into a giant, spherical spaceship with a chrome and green maze in the middle, surrounded completely by shouting spectators, calling for the blood of the competitors.

It gets me going, right? Makes my blood pump faster and my spine a little straighter. I am settling in because there is a story here and I am ready to delve in.

But it also makes me hesitate.

Why? Let me try to explain.

There is this great line from A Separate Peace where the narrator and protagonist Gene is describing his friend, Finn. For those of you who haven't read it, Finn is this larger than life, uber competitive, somewhat flighty and inconsiderate All-American young man. Gene says about him, that while Finn is out there beating everyone on the field that he doesn't realize that someone is losing for him to win.

There has to be a line drawn there, doesn't there? A place where the hero of our stories shuts off the empathy, pushes away the thoughts of constant death and danger to reach the point where they can look themselves in the mirror and get a decent number hours of sleep at night. The characters of a sportspunk story can't think of their competitors as people because then they would hesitate, be killed, and the story would end before it even begins. There are a few exceptions to this, but in most stories I have read with a sportspunk element, the competitors typically shut off their empathy valves to get the job done. Later, there would be a bit of sorrow, but this wasn't the main theme of the book. If it were, we'd be looking at a whole lot of messed-up characters in therapy instead of dominating and conquering worlds for just causes.

I have mentioned this in the past in the 2015 February issue of TK, I think, that one of my favorite SciFi couples of all times in Katniss and Peeta. Actually, there wasn't as much backlash to that as I honestly expected—either due to a low volume of readers that issue or just that we are all closet fans Hunger Games. Or maybe it was because of the reasoning.

When Mockingjay came out, there was a lot of stink over the relationship between Katniss and Peeta. Why wasn't it more romantic? Why was it so hard? Why did she gravitate towards him instead of Gale? Why did they wait so long to have kids?

Valid questions, maybe, but Suzanne Collins did a beautiful job of piecing together a relationship made up of people who were in the middle of dealing with things they did and witnessed after a series of significantly traumatic events.

Peeta is a classic case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD); and Katniss loves him through it in the most committed of fashions—by meeting him where he was, reminding him of his safety, and going at a pace that was comfortable for both of them.

PTSD is real, and it is scary.

But like most real and scary things, it is something someone can be victorious over.

Those of you who have been with us here at TK from the start may remember how often I knocked on your inbox back in the day. There were so many times @AngusEcrivain or myself would hit you up for last minute stories, articles, reviews, interviews, etc, for the up and coming issue of TK. We had the opportunity to really be a part of something that was great in its conceptual stages, however puttered out after the first grand issue.

Sometime in 2013 or 2014, I contacted @AngusEcrivain and asked if we could get it going again, and he said absolutely (which was probably something more akin to "f--- yeah!" knowing Dan). We spent the next year divvying up tasks, committing to each issue, proofing, making up contests and bothering you, the amazing contributors and readers of TK.

My last issue was sometime in 2015. My husband and I found out that we were expecting and the early bedtimes and general upheaval that pregnancy enforces on one left me with no time to contribute to good, extra things, such as TK.

I went MIA for about nine months, and gave birth to the most gorgeous baby girl in December of 2015.

She is named after her grandfathers, taller than your kid, and absolutely hilarious. I would do every bit of it a hundred times over to have her as a part of our family. She makes me better. She makes my husband better. She makes this world a better place because of her little stubborn self and she is mine. Oh I love her, so!

At that time, I really thought that I was going to jump back on this orange train fairly quickly. That we would get things running smoothly at the house and I could write bits and pieces here and there.

But something came up. Something besides the baby who demanded all of my time in the most amazing of ways.

Most of you have probably heard of post-partum depression (PPD). PPD happens in a minute way for almost one out of five women who have just given birth. It's the baby blues, this swarm of emotions that you can't quite shake. You cry a lot. You worry a lot. It really just sucks a little bit, but it passes.

PPD doesn't pass. It sticks and to say it "sucks" is the understatement of a lifetime.

What most do not know is that even though PPD affects roughly 20% of new moms, PTSD affects about ten. One out of ten women leave the hospital (birthing suite, etc) with a brand new, glorious baby and PTSD.

I was one of those ten.

It sounds a little silly, I realize, that I left the hospital having given birth to my beautiful baby girl with the some thing soldiers leave the battlefield with. We've seen so many of our favorite characters go through it, right? The flashbacks, nightmares, difficulties sleeping, anxiety. In real life, those symptoms, when untreated, have a tendency to lead to even greater symptoms including thoughts of suicide, depression, feelings of worthlessness and other things that you want to leave at the hospital when you begin your new life as a mom.

My birth story included forty hours of labor, two days without eating, a failed epidural, and an adverse reaction narcotics that ended with me throwing up and having a twenty minute panic attack while my babe was delivered via c-section.

The days that followed, instead of being filled with only baby laughs, diapers, and sweet cuddles were also filled with severe anxiety and panic attacks. Interrupted sleep turned into completely sleepless nights because I was so keyed up, I was ready to run miles instead of return to bed.

They were seriously dark days, punctuated by fleeting light.

The things I loved to do in my spare time were few and far between as I faced this conflict.

How do I sum up a nineteen-month battle for you?

My faith anchored me.

My friends and family moored me to my safest places.

My medication cleared the fog and allowed for me to think clearly.

And day-by-day, this conflict has been defeated. Bright days are occasionally punctuated by fleeting darkness.

The thing about our sportspunk stories is that something that seems like a singular event—The Hunger Games, The Running Man—permanently changes the trajectory of the lives of those involved. The loss of life, the danger of losing life, leaves its mark on lives long after it's gone.

But that's the beauty of the story, right—that through tenacity, bravery, integrity, hard work, and a little help from friends, the main character triumphs? Resiliency makes for a great story, but it does not come cheaply.

I know you have your own stories of resiliency, and here's what I would like to encourage you with: sometimes the best part of the story is what happens as a result of your conflict. What did you do? What can the reader cheer about with you and for you? What have you done since? Who or what do you need to give thanks for giving you the strength to pull through?

My prayer for us all is that we would see our stories as these never-ending ripples that continue on long after we are gone.

You are strong, or you wouldn't be the protagonist.

You have support, because the best stories (of which you are one) are the ones with Sam, the Winchester brothers, Rose, and Robin.

And you will make it to the other side, stronger, more empathetic, and just all around better even though you have scars.

I've seen it in my beloved stories that grace my bookshelves in my room (where all the best ones are), and I've seen it in my own life and the lives of countless of others. Scars suck. They hurt. But they are proof that we have been somewhere and that we have healed. Let's keep our heads up, friends. We've got stories to write.