Weight of the World....

It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off my back. No I am not talking about the weight of a heavy barbell loaded up for squats or the straight bar I normally use for walking lunges. I am talking about the weight that comes from standing up for something that deep down in my heart, was just not right. You see, I love competing. I love the way it forces me to push outside my comfort zone and do something I never thought I would. I love following a meal plan (most days) and I love the smell of the tanning products that make me look like an Umpa-Lumpa. I love a challenging workout, probably more than most and even though I despise the mere thought of it, I secretly kinda like leg days because who doesn’t like a nice pair of gams?? But even with the passion that burns deep down inside of me, there is something that is just not sitting well. The weight…

Back to this weight… I decided on a show. I decided I was going to do it and I had 11 weeks to get ready for it. Normally I’m amped up and ready to get down to business. I was excited, don’t get me wrong, but I was also fighting myself much much more than usual.  I had lined out my hair, make-up, rental suit. I had started posing most days and I was following my plan, checking in with coach to make sure we were on track… and I was. Yet, it still didn’t feel good. Something inside me was so unsettled that my workouts were suffering, my home life was feeling the effects, and I was in a down right damn ugly funk. There was a week in which every single day I would get home, immediately put on my sweats and sweatshirt and crawl into bed. I would pull the covers up and hide from myself. What was going on? What is wrong with me? Why can I not pull my head out and push on? These were only a couple of the numerous things I would ask myself. This mental battle was affecting my physical progress. My weight shot up, I felt horrible, my attitude sucked and I was either moments away from crying or punching someone in the face.

Then it hit me... A group of us were visiting having dinner, gushing over a 6-week old adorable baby girl, and I just wanted to enjoy it.  That night I told Mr. T that I didn’t think it was a good idea to do the scheduled show and listed some reasons why. He couldn’t agree with me more. However, the next day I woke up and still had something nagging at me. We went about our normal Saturday, hitting the gym and getting some stuff done around the house while preparing for a cheat meal. But the weight, it was still freaking there! After throwing the idea of visiting my mom and sister around for hours, I finally decided to go and have a night with them. Best. Idea. Ever. I drove slow down the beautiful country road that leads to my folk’s place, which at the time, were covered in a dazzling blanket of fresh snow. I told my mom and sister some of the feelings I have been having and they said to take a step back and take care of you first. It was not their words that helped me; it was getting out of my own head for a minute to breathe.

I did not fail myself by deciding to take some time to take care of me. I did not fail Mr. T or coach or my family. My decision to not do this show does not define who I am. I am proud to say that this week has been a hell of a lot better than that week and I feel good about things again. I do not feel the PRESSURE that this show placed on me, all due to my own doing, and I do not feel like curling up and hiding. I feel free and it is a darn good feeling!

Ciao for now,

J