I was never the "pretty girl" and puberty hit me like a ton of bricks. Acne, braces, glasses, long hair that I wasn't allowed to cut. I had a hard time making friends, I got made fun of at school. My parents divorce made things even more difficult. Going back and forth between homes, looking after my younger siblings, I felt like I had no control over my life. I struggled with eating disorders, anorexia, binge-purging, excessive exercising. I thought if I were at least skinny people might like me.
I eventually got over most of my middle school awkwardness, but still was having a lot of issues at home. We were pretty poor, food was hard to come by, and I slept on a mattress on the floor. I started binge drinking, and got involved with a really rough crowd. When I didn't have to be home with my little brother and sister, I was hanging out in the streets. Violence, and drugs were all around me. I didn't respect myself, and I didn't expect respect from others. All I wanted was to feel accepted or loved in some way, I took it in any form I could. Because of this I got into an unending cycle of physically, and emotionally abusive relationships. Life was hard, and I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I thought about ending my life constantly. One night I pulled my mom's 9mm out from under her mattress. I can still feel the way it felt in my hands, the smell of the metal. I wanted to put a bullet through my head, but all I could think about was the fact that my little siblings were the only ones home with me, and I couldn't bare for them to be the ones to find my body. I may have messed up my own life, but I wasn't about to mess up theirs.
I grip the metal knurling in my calloused hands. I'm told that I should wear gloves, after all I am a woman who should have soft hands. I don't care what people think. I wear these as my badge of honor, a physical manifestation of these past two years of hard work and dedication. I take a deep breath in as I prepare to push the weight above me. I'm ready to go all in. There's no turning back now.
I did meet one guy that really cared about me, and treated me like a princess. I spent as much time with him as I could. He made me feel beautiful, loved, and safe. He was an older, handsome guy, and when he would pick me up after school all of the other girls would be jealous. They often said they didn't know what he saw in me, and I often questioned the same thing. After the start of my senior year in high school, my mom's husband kicked me out. I thought of moving in with my boyfriend, but we were still somewhat new and I wasn't sure I was ready. Up to this point I had very little relationship with my dad, but one call to him and he welcomed me into his home with open arms. I didn't deserve his compassion, but I was lucky for it because shortly after my boyfriend got arrested and ended up in the feds. At first I was told he'd only be a year, maybe two. Then the sentence came and it was four. I knew I couldn't wait that long. We kept in touch for a while, but I eventually felt the need to move on.
After high school I moved down to Florida with my best friend. I thought that a change in my environment would somehow change me. Boy was I wrong. I found myself caught up with the same type of people and very similar situations. I was in a different state, but I was the same person, and therefore attracted the same things. Three year later, another abusive relationship and an attempt at suicide landed me in the psych ward. Luckily, my father came to my rescue once again, and brought me back home.
As if dealing with all of this wasn't enough, I came back home looking to reconnect with my boyfriend that I had left, knowing that his time was almost up, only to find that he had passed from cancer just two weeks prior. I was devastated. His family told me he was asking to talk to me before he passed, but no one knew where I was. Once again I turned to drinking to mask my pain.
At one point my dad told me that enough was enough, that I had to "pull myself up by my bootstraps". By this point I had started working on my nutrition degree, but I was till struggling with my self-esteem. I started going to the gym more and more, doing mostly cardio, but the routine was good for me, and it helped me feel better about myself.
I breathe out as I push, a strength I never knew I had. It's more than just a routine to me now. This is my way of life. I embrace the pain, I enjoy the discipline and structure it has given me. Everyday I am growing, physically, mentally, spiritually. I will let nothing stand in my way.
When I started lifting weights, I saw my body changing, and it was addictive. I was limited however, by the way that I was fueling my body, I was eating "healthy" foods, but not nearly enough to feed the muscle I was trying to grow. I was also still drinking a lot, which was definitely affecting my performance in the gym.
I took a sports nutrition class which really began to change my mindset. If I wanted to perform like an athlete, I had to treat myself like an athlete in every way. I decided it was time to stop abusing my body. I was ready to change who I was, inside and out. I also decided to start prepping for my first figure competition, and knew I would have to get serious about my diet, my recovery, and would need to give up drinking completely in order to do so. I was ready.
I'm tired, I'm in pain, I don't think I could force out another rep. A feeling of failure starts to build inside me. I think about my life, all of the struggles I've been through. I think about my little brother and sister, I want to be strong for them. I need to be strong for myself. Tears start to well up in my eyes, I've made it this far, I can do this. I give it all I got and as I grit my teeth I get that weight up one last time.
It was so much easier than I thought it would be. As I let go of my old habits, I began the new, and I started feeling incredible about myself and a new hope for my life. Lifting became my new coping mechanism. Being in the gym it's just me and the iron, nothing else matters. More than just a hobby, lifting is my therapy. I can't imagine where I might be without it. I use my gym time to reflect on my life, past and present. I think of where I am and where I will go. I use these weights to shape my body, and my mind. I listen to my music, I reflect, and I meditate. I celebrate every new PR that I hit, and use my failures as opportunities to continuously improve.
I get up with a huge grin on my face. I did it, I knew I could. I am powerful, I am beautiful, I am worthy of respect from others, but more importantly I respect myself. I take off my headphones, sling my bag over my head, and make an unspoken promise to return again.
