Melody Goes to the Gym

I started working out at the gym when I was in high school.  I pretty instantly fell in love with the way it made me feel:

peaceful
joyful
sore
strong
exhausted
energized
accomplished

Throughout high school and college is was something of an occasional habit.  I would be consistent for a few weeks or months, and then fall off for the same amount of time.  But, it was clear that it brought me joy.

After college, and a year living as a very poor actor in Memphis, TN, I toured with a children's theatre company.  This was one of the best experiences of my life!  Travelling and doing shows was so fulfilling and interesting.  I loved it.  The hardest part, though, was no gym.

I have never been great about working out outside-- or outside of a gym, even.  I enjoy taking walks, but never find them enough to satisfy my urge for endorphin.  I didn't get to work out much on the road-- aside from our shows, which to be honest, were workouts in themselves.

After touring for the fall and spring, then teaching at children's theatre summer camp, I moved to Chicago in August of 2008.  I was BUH-ROKE when I moved here, and finding a gym to join was not a priority at the time.  I took occasional walk/jogs in Lincoln Park, which were wonderful.  Once, the weather turned cold, however, I found myself stuck indoors and facing my first bout of mild seasonal depression.

In January 2009, I decided that getting a gym membership had to be a financial priority for me.  I joined the YMCA-- one of the cheapest in town, and made it my most important bill (after rent and electric).  I immediately made consistent use of this resource.  Other than work, it became my most important thing.  It gave me a place to dream, relax, express myself, and something to look forward to several time a week.

I primarily worked in a call center at the time-- and would often show up to work sweaty and gross
a. because I could
b. because I didn't want to shower mid-day

It felt great.  I didn't really lose any weight for a while, but I felt SO much better about myself.

A few years ago, I discovered weight-lifting.  And this brought me to a really great place in my recovery.  Instead of just balancing the number of calories I was eating with the amount I was burning, my diet and exercise routine became focused on gaining.  Gaining muscle.  Gaining strength.  Feeding myself to get strong-- not restricting myself to get thin.  This concept was mind-blowing and life-changing.

It became my new goal to take up space.  The opposite of what my disorder wanted to do-- shrink shrink shrink myself.  I'd been doing well with my post-bulimic life, but this new way of eating and exercising took me to great new places.

Working out at a gym is something that has consistently brought SO MUCH GOOD into my life.  I love to sweat and push myself.  I love seeing the numbers on the machines.  They are constant affirmations that I am working.  That I am improving.  That I deserve...

For as long as I am able, I will have a gym membership.  It's something that I'm simply not happy without.

For my recovery, working out was my replacement for purging, in that-- it helped me feel worthy.  I still struggle with feelings of worthlessness, but being able to exercise -- even just a but-- is a reminder to myself that I am worthy of love and life just because.  It is my favorite self-care.

Sometimes, however, you sprain your ankle-- or you're sick-- or depressed-- and you are unable to exercise in the way that gets you to your "deserving" place.  So, what then?

Step 3:  Still Working on this one...

I won't be writing about step 3 yet, because yes, I'm still working on this.

As I wrote about a couple entries ago, I get in my own way.  I keep myself from feeling fulfilled if I haven't done enough.  Why do I feel this need for perfection?

TBE (To Be Explored...)

Melody