The Open is upon us... again. It's almost impossible not to get caught up in the hype. You are ready to go out for blood. You say you'll do it just for fun... and then inevitably your eyes widen, the clock starts and you, too, are sprinting towards that pain cave. To avoid participating is no passive maneuver. You suddenly feel that you need a good enough reason. You practice your logic tautologies, get a doctor's note or schedule vacations five weekends in a row. Why? Why so much soul-searching for a fitness competition?
For me, I've come to realize the deep, real reason why I workout and why I compete. I think for everyone, whether or not total clarity on the "why" is deciphered, there is something that happens within our hearts and souls when we spend time with our bodies and learn to trust that they are capable of carrying us to our desired havens.
This piece is a combination of new material and not so new journal entries.
I used to be afraid of being strong. I didn't want to take care of myself. I didn't want to get big.
I wanted to have a parent or teacher- a savior. I wanted to be taken care of. I wanted to stay small, child like.
I stopped eating to freeze time. I was cheated out of a childhood. I found a way to buy myself more time: don't grow.
My mom, my friends and my teachers didn't play dumb. They saw what was happening and they said something. They did care. They showed concern. They tried to connect. They checked in with me. They embraced me.
So I got what I wanted.
I fantasized about being rescued. In movies the girl passes out and has to be carried. That's what I wanted. And probably needed. Sometimes you have to fake it till you make it. If no one was going to care for me just because, I'd create a reason for them to.
The damsel in distress.
The line between beauty and destruction. We like it when it's thin.
Fine china. Lace. Art that cannot be touched. Beautiful objects that could so easily break in our hands. They have realized the fullest manifestation of their splendor, and they could, with the slightest touch, shatter.
This is how we like our movie stars, fashion models, women who beguile us. The beautiful girl in the horror film. We like to hold women over the flame just to see what will happen, even though we know. It's the young boy's obsession with sliding a magnifying glass between a hot ray of sun and a line of ants.
What do we get out of this grisly act? What happens to those who see this as an opportunity to connect to others? We respond and rise up to someone in distress, on the brink of harm. Of course we run to them, but then it can be the only way someone knows how to feed that need to connect. They think there has to be a crises in order for others to notice them.
You can be powerful or you can be pitiful but you cannot be both. - Joyce Meyer
Now, when I lift, I try not to think about who I'm beating. Victory is fleeting. I try to think about my strength. My health. I thank God for my body.
This same body was a shrine to pain and loss. I missed out on something I thought I deserved. So I used my body to push and pull people into that pain. I used my body to hide. My body was my weapon.
Today I am strong. My fitness journey is not paved with efforts towards weight loss, physique building or competition. Walking towards fitness meant walking away from pain. A pain that I understood, lived in, felt comfortable in and was defined by for so many years. It's hard to leave your pain behind; it can be your friend. Those who have conquered it know. Those who are stuck live in that reality.
If you are stuck, reach towards wellness. Reach for joy, happiness, forgiveness. It may not be what you understand. It may be more terrifying than staying where you are and battling those tired demons. Reach forward and new life will reach back. Grasp on when you can. Let yourself move beyond your past. You are not weak if you give in to joy. You will not be forgotten if you leave your past behind.
"It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories." —W. Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage
So please, don't compare my lifts, my times, my skills. Don't check my score. Don't count my reps. That's not why I'm here. Think twice before you make quiet conversation about the abilities or training habits of your fellow gym-goers.
For some of us, we are here for ourselves in a way we may never be able to explain to you. Our motivations are born deep in our hearts. Our goals propel our souls away from pain. Our victories heal us.
People probably will find inconsistencies or odd patterns or surprising behaviors as they read or watch what I say. I think that prevented me from going forward with more writing and adding on more chapters. I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to present myself as a contradiction or as inconsistent.
Humans remember wrong. Our brains will mix up the facts. Emotions shape our views of the past. Sometimes we believe one thing and then a little later we don't quite believe it anymore. That's ok. It's ok to change. It's ok to get it wrong. It ok to be wrong.
Perfect people don't make compassionate storytellers. Perfect people aren't even the ones fiction writers prefer. The character always has a fatal flaw. Flaws give us depth. Flaws move us forward. Our flaws teach us about life and about others and about ourselves.
Don't feel like you're getting your story wrong because it's inconsistent. You can talk about yourself while you're still unsure of yourself. You don't have to have it all right before you open your mouth to speak.
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