I want to make something known: a fact that many are unaware of.
Without fail. Every time I lift, Every time I walk. Every time I lift my walker. I mentally thank the universe. Thank it for helping me find strength. For giving me a second chance at life. For giving me a gift. An undeserved gift. The universe has a strange way of affording us opportunities. To ignore the physical would be horrific.
I think we clearly know my some of my situation. If you are unaware, this is a brief synopsis: https://www.hormonesmatter.com/surviving-and-thriving-after-cerebellar-stroke/
I think this would not surprise the reader: it may , however. Everytime I raise my barbell, I have fear.I have a choice, however. To face my fears head on or allow them power over me. This I know…if I don’t give my all: nothing will change. As with everything in life: I will get only as much as I give to myself.
I have PLENTY of excuses why I “ CAN’T”. That is what they are. Excuses.
Whether I try or not is my responsibility. If I am unable to do that which I attempt: I try again. That is how we grow and improve. Through failure. I suppose it comes with acceptance. Knowing in my heart that failure is part of life. A huge part of my believed this defined me. That I WAS a failure. I failed and still do. I was never and am still not a FAILURE.
My physical endeavors are not about “them”.I know now that it is me vs myself. Being myself. Lifting to remind myself of what can happen when I keep going: even when things are almost unbearable.
I have lived much of my life with the perverse need to prove my worth. Never for myself. This insatiable need to be everything to the world led to me taking unbelievable actions of self-hate.
My ability to lift a weight is something I will never in my life take for granted. Many are unaware that I once was barely able to lift a can of soup. Almost completely immobile. In a wheelchair. Curling cans of soup was enough. It was where I was. I was where I was physically. And that was what it took. It is funny that cream of mushroom soup plays the main role in my weightlifting story!
Everyone starts somewhere. We often compare our lives to other. Never thinking we are “enough”.
“That person can lift x amount of weight. I will “never” do that. So I won’t try.”
We don’t understand what it took for that person. Pictures do not tell the early mornings, the pain, the mental struggle, etc. Weightlifting is definitely not easy.
Finding the strength to overcome physical issues : age. genetics, substance abuse, eating disorders, etc… translates to my own beliefs outside the gym. Understanding concepts of facing issues. Facing life. When I want to give up.
I remind myself:”Remember when you lifted that? And you were told you couldn’t? Just do this “life” thing: just the same.”
The hardships are worth EVERYTHING. Doing the medically “impossible” gives my life more meaning than I could ever relate. I would not change any of my struggles. Without them: I would never have found my strength.
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