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[sometruthstofitness]

Prison Walls

I heard an analogy that resonated with me, and continues to resonate with me; “being in prep is like sitting in a prison cell with the door wide open, you can leave whenever you want. Nothing is stopping you from walking out.” But what happens when the prison walls disappear too?

Though it might come from a place of privilege, prep is the most difficult thing that I’ve chosen to endure. Prep has broken me. But I continue to go back. I love it. I live for it. Prep provides a lot of purpose for me and my extremist tendencies; but it’s also been a coping mechanism. 

I’ve yet to grasp how to adjust back to life after my show. I don’t know how to. I don’t know if I want to. 

I’ve been a victim of this mindset that comes around 2 weeks out from show day; “Dude I cannot wait to rebound and get huge.” I can only describe that as a pre-coping mechanism. Anticipating the post show blues and hoping establishing rigid goals will help avoid that. 

It doesn’t. I truly don’t believe post show depression can be avoided, and it shouldn’t be avoided. 

Prep is built to endorse narcissism; it has to be. Combine an unhealthy level of narcissism with a gradual increase in affirmations from your loved ones, your peers up until your show day and then POOF. Your 15 minutes of fame is gone. Then what? I’m not getting affirmations anymore? How do I fill this void? With the food your calorically restricted brain has convinced you will make you happy. 

A few binges and 10 pounds of water later and you think you look horrendous. Wait, who’s whispering in my ear? Ahh, we cannot forget body dysmorphia. The little voice in the back of your head that's been talking shit to you the entire time. That voice is now in your face screaming at you. 

But wait, now I’m not getting affirmations AND I hate how I look? How do I fill this MASSIVE void? More food. More binges. 

This perpetual hell continues for days, even weeks, it consumes you. 

“But let’s get huge” is the ONLY coping mechanism to try to hold back this tidal wave of self hatred and binge eating. 

Every day is a tightrope walk. “I’m going to stick to my plan today.. Wait, is that krispy kreme Hot n’ Ready sign on?”  

After my first show in 2019 I gained 51 pounds in 23 days. My mental health has never been worse than this chapter of my life. I isolated myself, I self-destructed, I coped with everything I thought could help. Drugs, alcohol, food, it didn’t matter. I just hated how I felt. I hated everything. I hated bodybuilding. I hated myself. 

Post show is harder than prep itself. Nobody will ever convince me otherwise. 

I believe it’s something most of us are never warned of, never truly prepared for. I’m not sure it can actually be prepared for. 

I’d love to say I have some grandeur, profound answer to this all but I don’t. Finding company in those who can relate is where I’ve begun to find peace. We all struggle, we all face similar battles in this sport. 

I commend everyone who endures prep, survives the personal battles after their show, and come back to do it again. 

Resilience. Persistence. Grit. 

[sometruthstofitness]

My Battle With Eating Disorders

I have struggled my entire life with a wide variety of eating disorders that were all fueled by body dysmorphia. I grew up obese. Not like “kinda chubby” obese, I mean “diagnosed by a doctor” obese. Hell, I didn’t even know I was fat until I started getting bullied. I was tormented every day of my life for my weight until I was 15 years old. I begged my parents to home school me, I skipped school as often as I could. I hated myself. I wanted to change. 

When I was 15 years old I was introduced to the weight room and I fell in love. I felt empowered for the first time in my life. I felt strong. I was hooked. In the span of 6 months I lost 103 pounds. Here I was 100+ pounds lighter, looking like a melted candle, and I still hated how I looked. Over the span of 2 years I chased this idea of being a powerlifter and I ended up gaining all 100 pounds back. One day I looked at myself and realized I was right back to square one. I felt defeated. 

My spring semester of my junior year of high school I was introduced to flexible dieting. The whole concept of being to lose weight while eating Oreos baffled me. The entire summer break of 2015 I was consumed by losing weight. I trained 7 days a week, never had a cheat meal, I didn’t know what a refeed day was. I didn’t care what it took, I just wanted to be comfortable in my skin for once. By the time school start I had lost 80 pounds. Shortly after my headspace got worse. 

When I walked into school people didn’t recognize me. I was seen in a completely different light that I didn’t want to be seen in. The amount of unwarranted attention I received made me a ball of anxiety every day. I was accustomed to being noticed, I was used to feeling like a shadow in the crowd. I didn’t know how to respond to all of the attention, but I had a conscious thought that I needed to stay lean in order for people to like me. This is when I became obsessive compulsive about all things flexible dieting. I began walking this tightrope of dieting for all the wrong reasons. 

Through my obsessive tendencies, I was in the gym training numerous times a day. From March of 2015 until January of 2016 I didn’t take a single rest day. Injuries caught up to me, I ruined my left knee. I went into physical therapy during the winter to try to rehab my knee quick enough for track season, I wasn’t able to workout as often so I gained a marginal amount of body fat back. In my head my entire world was crashing. I was petrified that I was going to end up obese again, hell, I thought I looked obese again. I was afraid I was going to lose my friends. 

Once I was cleared to train my lower body I started experimenting with intermittent fasting. But instead of starting with the standard 16 hour fast, I started with 24-48 hour fasts. Shortly after I started I developed binge eating disorder. I would inhale as much food as I could until I was sick. It didn’t take long for me to become bulimic. 

This combination of binge eating disorder and bulimia destroyed me. By the time I realized how much damage I had done I was 158 pounds. I was ashamed, I was embarrassed. I never thought at 18 years old I would be bulimic. I was so scared of the judgement that I would receive I didn’t tell a soul. I felt so helpless.  It took months of therapy to help me crawl out of that hole. 

Fast forward three years to 2019 and I was prepping for my first show. I relapsed. Looking back I can tell you every detail of when these three separate occasions happened, but in the moment everything went black. The same feelings of guilt and shame came over me, and again I didn’t tell anyone. I felt myself crawling back into that hole but I used show day as my crutch, I had tunnel vision for one goal. 

I won my first show, and I got depressed as hell. I idealized stepping on stage for 52 weeks, I dieted for 33 weeks leading up to show. I was consumed to a level that caused concern in those around me. I ruined friendships and relationships for one thing, this show. It came and went in a heartbeat. I didn’t feel deserving of winning. I didn’t expect to win. The prison of dieting I was in let me free and I was terrified. I could eat freely again? Whatever I want? 

I gained 42 pounds in 3 weeks. 42 pounds. In 21 days. 

I can say with certainty my mental health has never been worse than November of 2019. Post show blues, the extreme guilt of winning, binge eating constantly, and the worst my body dysmorphia has ever been pushed me to the edge more times than I can count. I hated myself. I hated food. I hated competing. 

It took up until June of this year to finally develop a healthy relationship with food and my body. I’m more proud of that than anything else I’ve ever accomplished. I’m not scared anymore. I’m in control. 

Do. Not. Let. The. Scale. Dictate. Your. Fucking. Worth. 

ALL of this journey has been caused by the scale; by the idea that “if I have abs I’ll be happy” “If I win I’ll be happy” “If people like how I look I’ll be happy” 

IF.

I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life trying to discover self worth through my appearance and I promise you it’s the most toxic path you can ever walk. 

The scale beat me every day for as long as I can remember. 

Don’t let it have power over you.