"Health" was a dirty word.
The last time I went to the gym three times in one week was when I was in high school. At nearly 25 years old, I still have a recurring nightmare that I’m back in high school, and I’m told by my high school gym teacher that I have to go to gym class everyday for the rest of the semester in order to graduate. Gym class wasn’t necessarily scary for me, but it wasn’t my happy place.
This wasn’t because of anything that my high school gym teachers did. They are gifted, lifelong athletes who have dedicated their lives to educate and empower their teams into achieving their goals and believe in themselves. When they were students, they broke records and won championships, and they manifest that for their students as well.
I made up my mind at a young age that I would never consider myself an athlete. Memories of being last in the mile run in 2nd grade, sitting in the outfield picking white clover, and being thoroughly disappointed that there wasn’t as much choreography in basketball as High School Musical all were clear evidence that I wasn’t going to break records or win championships.
Of course it didn't help that I felt embarrassed by my body because several of the athletes in my class were much smaller and more slender while I grew up and out much earlier than other kids. Even though I loved my dance and cheer teams, I was self-conscious about my curves in the uniforms. It might have seemed that I didn’t care what others thought of me, but I was just really good at pretending–much like Elphaba in Wicked when she’s dancing awkwardly in silence at the Ozdust Ballroom.
I remember one of my high school math teachers (who coincidentally is now a full time personal trainer) told a story about how he used to enjoy drawing until he was in 6th grade until a teacher gave him a bad grade on his art project, and since then, he felt insecure about drawing even into his adulthood. He proceeded to talk about how a lot of people feel that way about math, so when they're done with all the required math, they never pick it back up again. I felt that way about moving my body. I finished out my two semesters of required PE classes in college, and outside of that, I did not intentionally or regularly exercise for years.
At first, it wasn’t too bad. My college was very residential, so I walked everywhere. I didn’t have to worry about making my own food because I had a meal plan, and in the summers, I would be at summer camp for ten weeks, working on my feet at Culver’s for several hours on end, or studying abroad in Italy where I was walking everywhere. I knew that no matter how much walking I did, I was always going to be a curvy queen, and it was during those years I learned to embrace that.
It didn’t take long for my habits to devolve. I moved to a different city, away from my support network. I had a desk job where I would work anywhere from 40 to 80 hours per week. I worked mostly from home. For a while, cooking was rare for me. Not a lot of fruits and veggies, to say the least. As my mental health spiraled from the stress of a new job and being in a new city where I didn’t know anyone but my roommates, taking care of my body was less and less of a priority for me. I didn’t want to exercise when I had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. There were several days throughout my first job where I felt useless and incompetent; as a result, I turned to frozen pizza and Kraft mac and cheese, meals I knew I couldn’t fuck up. I felt too embarrassed to ask for help.
I felt a lot of shame about my transition into life as a working adult. I didn’t feel good about myself. So how did I go from this to going to the gym three times last week?
I met one of my best friends, Kelvin, in choir last year. Kelvin was an anomaly to me. He had a music degree, went to raves, and loved anime. And despite not having use of his right shoulder due to a disability, he also was one of the biggest gym bros I’ve ever met.
Kelvin’s physical and mental health had fluctuated throughout his life. He doesn’t quite remember why he started going to the gym, but from what he told me, it played a role in repairing his relationship with himself. Sure, going to the gym was not going to fix all of the problems around him, but it helped him believe more in himself because he treated his body with kindness and gave it the tools it needed to do what he loved. He inspired me to take my wellness seriously.
2024 was a year of transitions for me, both positive and negative. I started working with a company in a role that was better suited for my skills, and my work days had better structure to them. One of my friends unexpectedly passed away. I started getting more paid music gigs. I moved into a new place with my partner Colton. Kelvin moved to California. I had my first dentist appointment since I moved to Minneapolis. I stopped teaching lessons even though I loved doing it. And I still wasn’t taking care of myself.
I realized that in order to truly feel like I could take on the daunting tasks around me, I needed to to make sure I was giving myself the best chance. I needed to prioritize my health.
Colton was better about moving. They went for walks and would bike to work when they could. They always invited me to walk with them, and sometimes I would. But we both knew we needed help with scheduling intentional movement and eating more wholesome foods. With the help of my parents, Colton and I got started on a meal kit subscription that also gave us some premade options. But the real game changer for us was our new gym (found with the help of my mom’s friend Laree).
Getting back into regular exercise was really intimidating at first. Sometimes I’m huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, or deep breaths into my back and abdominals feel tense. And exercise didn’t make all of my problems go away. Still, I never regret going to the gym.
Everytime I go to my gym, I’m astounded by the people that are in my group fitness classes. It’s like being in PE, but with no one that you would expect to see in PE. I see LGBTQ+ people. I see people with tattoos and piercings. I see people with tummies. I see folks over 55. I see people with disabilities. I see people wearing hijabs. I see my pastor. I see my friend from choir. I see parents with their kids. I see unemployed folks. We’re all trying to get by in our daily lives, but in the gym we see each of us trying to make ourselves better. We’re all trying to scale our mountains, one step at a time.
In my 1-1 sessions, I’m able to work with someone who understands the struggles I have with my mental health and the roadblocks it’s had in my physical health. I’m not met with judgement; I feel very safe. I’m always looking for spaces where I can show up as my full self. I never would have expected that to be my gym.
I can sense my quality of life getting better. One day, I even went before the work day, and my boss noted how my demeanor was brighter, and I was more mentally present. It is easier for me to walk longer distances. I tried on a dress I hadn’t worn since last fall, and it fit better now than it did at the wedding I wore it to.
I went to the gym three times last week, and I still have problems to face this week. I am choosing to hold onto the aspects of my wellness I can control. Some people may find this standard, but this is a big deal for me.
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