I lost myself last week and didn’t catch it. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, I was in my old head. In fact it was a slow car wreck. Bits and pieces played into it, the 40th anniversary of Pumping Iron, looking at the life I avoided, reminders of the ugly universe I caged myself in. My thoughts have been everywhere, tumbling in a strong wind.
Suddenly I doubted my physique goals. I saw myself as a sad man who woke up and realized himself a fool. How could I have said out loud the absurd sentence “I want to get big”?
I was on the verge of tears for a few days. I kept circling back to Nick, my trainer. Did I disappoint him? Is he playing along because I’m a good pay? But I couldn’t pin anything on him. A byproduct of the examination was realizing how important his approval was to me.
Luckily I had therapy on Friday and Joe cut right through it. For decades lies had been welded onto who I thought I was. Even a small amount of abuse can twist what you believe about yourself. In that dark heart I only saw myself as a fag hole, punching bag, pathetic and weak. I had crept back into that thinking without even noticing it. My grasp on my true identity is fragile after decades buried beneath that.
I learned a few important lessons this week:
No one including Nick, Joe or Matt gave me my masculine identity. Their gift was helping me find what was already there.
When I see myself belittling my goals, efforts and achievements I can not trust them to be glimpses of The Truth. They are red flags that I am loosing hold of Me.
What have I done in 40 years? I haven’t built an amazing chest or a tapered torso. I have wrestled my demons into submission. Now that they are out of the way I can start and I have. I make no apology for my appreciation, admiration or goal of building as beautiful physique as I can. Tomorrow I start a new training program with Nick. I’m stoked!
Thank you for reading. Comments and constructive conversation are always welcomed. I can be reached privately via the contact page.