I miss working out. Dear God, how I miss it!
First off, let me say: I know it’s no one else’s fault that I haven’t worked out much the past few years. It’s entirely my doing, so don’t think this is one of those “oh poor me” posts. It’s not.
This is a “oh dear God, I can’t take it any more!!” post.
It’s me, saying I can’t stay like this any more. I can’t pretend I am ok with my body. I’ve learned the lesson needed from it – I’m comfortable in my skin, just the way it is.
That’s just it though – I’m comfortable. Not happy.
I’m not happy.
I’m the only one who’s stopped myself from working out, and I’m the only one who can start again. I know this, full and well. That’s part of what this is for me, right now. Getting it out, writing it down, seeing it physically out there. Me, saying enough is enough. Dear God, woman, pull your shit together!!!
See, in High School, I was known as a “workout nazi” among my friends and peers. I did cross country, weight training, soccer, basket ball, and helped train the wrestling team and football team. I was a trainer, I was a fitness expert, and I was a health nut guru. I still am, at heart. I have the knowledge, I have the experience, I just don’t have the ability.
Or at least, I haven’t.
I suffer from several chronic medical conditions. Part of what drove me to become such a workout nut, was the fact I was in pain, nearly 24/7. I wasn’t in a situation where I could deal with it medically, so I simply had to push through it. I’m a bit of a pit bull/bulldog of a woman, and I don’t just sit and pout when I’m in pain. I kick ass.
Having to finally deal with my medical issues though, meant I had to stop. I had to sit still, before I killed myself from neglecting the things that were killing me. Had I not stopped and dealt with the pain instead of pushing through it, I’d be worm food right now.
I’m glad I took a break. I’m glad I listened to my amazing hubby, and got myself figured out. I’m glad that my life isn’t at risk the same way any more.
Having a hysterectomy in my early 20s though, was traumatic. It took nearly two years for me to recover physically from my medical stuff. It was bad enough to where just going grocery shopping took all my strength, and nearly put me in tears from the pain. If you know me, you know I don’t cry easily – bulldog, remember?
Mentally and emotionally, it took me another several years to pull myself out of the hole I fell into. Having to stop working out wrecked me inside, and along with some family drama shit that never should have happened, I feel into a depression for several years. I’m just now coming out of it, with the help of God and my true family, but it’s not easy. And it’s impossible to do, if I’m not able to be physically active the way I used to be.
Luckily, I’ve finally gotten to the point physically to where I can do the day-to-day stuff I have to, without hurting anything, or putting my fist through a wall from pain. I’ve started lightly working out, which already makes me feel like a wuss, and it does hurt.
But you know what, I can’t take it any more. I can’t sit around and wait for my body to heal. I am a slow healer either way, mainly due to some of those medical issues, and realistically, it will always hurt.
I don’t care. I’m ready to kick ass again. I need to. I have to. Otherwise, I’m going to lose my mind. I feel like my life has been put on hold, waiting for myself to heal.
I’m healed enough – I’m ready to feel the burn again. I miss it so badly, it puts me in tears. I’d rather cry from pain while actually doing something, than cry from the desire and wish that I could be doing something.
I have plenty of reasons to not. Doctors would tell me to wait. I’m a stubborn pit bull though, and I don’t care.
I want my body back. I want my six-pack abs back. I want my toned, hard body back, and the confidence that went with it. I miss myself, and my body can learn to deal with it.
It won’t kill me, it will most likely just put me on my back a few times, before I toughen back up a bit. I’ve gotten soft, and I hate it.
If you’re still reading this, well, thank you. I appreciate the fact you care enough to read it. To be honest though, this isn’t for you – it’s for me. For me to realize I am there. I’m ready to get up and kick some ass again – mainly my own.
This time next year, I will not look like this. I will not feel like this. I will be back to myself again.
I’m ready – let’s feel the burn.