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I stepped into the gym.

After 10 minutes of being in my car. I didn’t want to. I trick or treated with the kids, got them into bed an hour late (and they still didn’t wanna wake up), stayed up til 12:30 analyzing my codependency, my narcissistic ex’s strange behavior and my boyfriends words to me. It was a rush of all the voices in my head that constantly fight with one another.

It’s been that way since i was little. Trying to accommodate for everything, freezing because i am paralyzed by making the wrong decision and either not participating and telling myself i can’t or participating and trying to control every variable to make sure everything is perfect. 

Erik’s words rang through:

“Everything was perfect.”

In my head in that moment when he told me i thought, yeah, because i made sure that everyone was happy. But the reality is that everyone was happy. Everyone is so worried about their own thing that they’re not focusing on my drama and it’s not my responsibility to keep people happy, it’s theirs.

Those words- thooooose words.

I spent every waking moment trying to make my mother happy. It didn’t work. So i made things perfect just not to be yelled at. A reader told me once, you fixed everything around you just to find peace.

I’m still guilty of that sometimes.

I manage energies to try to just relax.

It’s a piece of my trauma I’ve carried with me for decades. 

It’s hard to come to such realizations about your childhood and traumas, but sometimes you have to lift the load.

I stepped to the weight bench, frustrated with myself. After my car accident, Covid, my mental breakdown, my 3 week long 10lb weight gain from my medication and weaning my way off it myself for my mental health (ironic right), i knew i couldn’t perform at the level i had been.

It’s what had been keeping me away from the gym consistently. Knowing i couldn’t be perfect.

Erik’s words came through again:

“You don’t have to do all the things and do them perfectly.”

You just have to lift the load.

No one said how big it had to be. No one said how many times you have to lift it. No one said it had to be bigger or less than the loads around you. You just have to lift it. 

I lifted it.

Less weight, less reps, less time.

My entire workout was only an hour instead of 90 minutes like it usually is.

You get better over time.

You lift the load you can handle now and it becomes simple. You become a person that can handle more. 

But i still felt accomplished. 

I still felt like a badass.

Underneath my extra medication weight, i looked in the mirror when i was lifting and saw my muscles.

It reminded me: i can do it. 

I can lift this load and if i continue lifting it, the load i can handle will get bigger.

Lift the load.

You’re a relative badass just for showing up every day to carry the weight you carry. 

Keep working on you and your load will feel a lot lighter, yet somehow you’ll be able to carry even more with relative ease. 

You were conditioned to handle this.