Mad Enough To Act

"If I get denied access to the gym one more fucking time today I'm gonna scream!!!"

My text to B Murphy in my midnight rage. One of the few people who A) would be up this late, B) Have any idea what I was even talking about, and C) would have some ability to relate. I was pissed. This was the third day in a row I was denied access to the gym because my debit card was changed. I MADE sure to get a hold of the office before it closed today so I could take my ass in there tonight, and yet again... a split second green flash followed by a long drawn out red flash escorted by an undeniable, wretched beep. If there had been a computer beep translator there, I'm certain it would have said... "DENIED. Go home Ms. Hollingsworth, be thankful you passed on the cinnamon roll and garlic chicken. Be proud for asking the waitress to take away the cracker bowel before you un-conscious consumed all of them simply because they were there and might wanna take your ass to yoga tomorrow." Yes. That's how long that beep was, and exactly what it said to me.

I thought today about anger and pain (mostly anger) and how I have used both to push me my entire life, to achieve my goals and what to do now that neither are a driving force. I decided I was pissed, and I was okay with that. Because maybe I had finally gotten to the point where I was mad enough to do something. Because the whole "be easy on yourself" was getting me heavier. As I walked in my front door tonight inspired and angered, already writing my blog in my mind the word complacency popped into my head. Complacency; defined as, "self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies." When we loose our conscious awareness of the dangers lurking when we stop doing what we're doing. I had become complacent. I was taken back to my days in recovery when the alcoholics would end up drinking again because they became complacent and stopped going to meetings and working the steps. When I hit my -100 lbs a year ago February, I became complacent. On some level, I felt I had achieved my goal, I went easier on myself. I could feel myself more whole because of the work I had done in that gym. I've slowly watched myself gain over 20lbs since last year this time. The jeans I almost gave away because they were too big, are snug again, a vicious reminder of where I was and where I am now. For months I've allowed people to tell me it's alright. It's okay that I've gained a little weight, I still look great and I'm happy. My girlfriend still finds me insanely attractive and was "honestly, happy [I] gained a little weight."  Who the FUCK am I kidding? Who cares what they think. This was never for them anyway! This has always been for me. Anyone else's opinions of what I do in the gym and why I do it are irrelevant. I am done listening to people tell me that I work out too hard, I push myself too much, I'm too hard on my body. For the first time, I saw myself at my goal weight, I saw how solid I looked. Before I couldn't see it, I relied on other's belief in me, I relied on their vision of what I could do to give me the faith I needed to keep me going day after day. I had to trust what they saw, because I couldn't see it, yet. If there's one thing I've learned over the last year is that to comprise one's needs is a denial of the self. I need that gym; I need to push myself physically, mentally, and emotionally. My body, mind, and spirit need clean, wholesome foods. Why? Because that is the safest thing to date that I've found that keeps me grounded, centered, and balance. I love it. It's empowering, it's liberating, and allots me a freedom that few other things can and connects me to my most truest self. I will not live a boring life. That's not who I am nor what I was born to do. I live my life in a way to connect and inspire others...it seems anger and passion burn from the same flame with only a slight variation in color.

With Grace & Gratitude...