A rant of sorts I sent my boyfriend, because I’m mad at the universe. If you don’t like what I have to say, that’s cool. This is for me.

I just feel so weak is where it all started I guess. I think back to when I could walk into the gym with you and we could be two rooms apart but what mattered was that I got to be there with you, I got to be proactive with my health and put forth that effort. And then when I started weight training, even the small amount that I was, I felt good. I felt like we could bond and I could be the girl that you wanted, and I could be happier with myself. It took time, but I found that inspiration and it hurt so much to be told to stop. And I think another thing is that to the outside world, it looks like I’m lazy. Like I have this boyfriend who posts about being fit, who our friends see as committed to the gym, to being healthy, and they don’t know that I don’t have a choice. To the rest of the world I just got bored with working out, or it’s too much work, when I’d kill to be able to go back to what I was doing, to making myself feel better. And I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but it’s so unfair that I find something I like, that millions of people take for granted, that millions don’t do because they don’t feel like it, and I look like that’s me. If I could change one thing about myself it would be my body. Not just how I look, but how it’s put together. I worked out and I hurt after but I didn’t mind the pain, I loved the soreness in my legs the day after I worked harder, longer. And I’d go through three times the pain if one of these countless doctors could just tell me that I’m not falling apart with every ounce of weight I lift.

I would give almost anything to have that back, to not be broken, to move that damn ceiling. But what is there I can do ya know? They look at me like I’m going to break in physical therapy. It’s chump change. I stretch, and then I tug on the weakest little resistance band the world has ever seen and they’re proud. When I know I can do more, I want to do more, I want to tell them that it’s not fair that I’m here. I didn’t hurt myself, the universe hurt me and I’m dealing with it. I’ve pushed myself to do so much more and for them to tell me that I can’t do that, I’m too weak, I might feel okay but it’s tearing me apart and doing irreparable damage, it makes all that feel like I was doing something wrong. In what world for a regular girl, does going to the gym, not even doing crazy shit, tear someone apart. And the jealousy I feel, the disconnect from the athletic wear I have, from the way my ass looks in my favorite pair of leggings versus what it looked like three or four months ago, that’s what makes me think, maybe I’ve been that scrawny Bitch all along. Maybe my eds and my arthritis is the universe saying fuck you for trying. I start going to the gym, I finally get happy, I start feeling what it means to keep proper form, and my doctor, like a messenger from an uncaring higher power tells me to stop. It makes me livid, just knowing that I can’t be there. It makes my heart ache when I see pictures of girls at the gym, knowing that that could be me, that’s actually obtainable, that’s possible, if I could just put in the work, if I could just try a little harder. If I was just a normal girl in normal health, with normal odds to being with. But I’m not, and I never will be, so I have to sit and wait and pull those tiny rubber bands on their little wall in a room full of doctors telling me that at least I have an excuse not to go to the gym.