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Weight

I used to really enjoy lifting weights. There’s something comforting about it, which… I know that sounds weird. But it feels good to have moved iron around. And to look at me, you’d certainly never think oh my this lady likes going to the gym, but I used to — until all the other weight I was carrying kind of lodged me in place.

By weight, I mean everything I’m doing — I looked back at my previous post here, and had a come to Jesus talk with a couple of friends, and there’s a plan going forward, but it’s scary, because that’s what the unknown does best, right. There is an abyss out there and the only way across is via clever metaphors that people may never read or understand..erm.

In weightlifting, you don’t put the heavy plates on first, of course. You work your way up to them. Sometimes, as you increase weight, you can only do one rep at this new, heavier weight, but that possibly marks a personal best, given you’ve never hit that weight before. Still, that weight may also be too much; you might not be there yet. You may never get there.

But you look at the others in the gym, adding plates and squatting 300 and you think damn that looks awesome and you wonder why you aren’t doing that, why you can’t do that, and remind yourself that all bodies are different, and that yours is unique because it’s not as strong in places as it used to be, so you lift much less, and watch as others lift even moar, and have support in doing so (stronger thighs and backs, back braces, and wrist guards and spotters and and and).

Is this a metaphor? Is this weightlifting alluding to something else entirely?

And what’s with the Fionna and Cake picture, Elise, really? (I love Fionna and Cake, c’mon, but also you know who they almost are — the stars of the show — yet they’re not that, but still are comfortable being who they are, because they have the support of everyone who also isn’t the star of the show and — God, what’re you even talking about at this point…)

Watching everyone else is part of the problem. Someone can lift 300 because they’ve trained to lift 300, and maybe you feel like you should be at that level because how many years have you been training? But you still can’t do it.

Some backs aren’t meant for that kind of weight.

So you look at the weight you can carry, and the additional weight you have been trying to bear, and you figure out what has to be set aside before you can actually move forward, before you can be not lodged in place.

You wonder, who will I be without this burden I have been trying to carry? Who will I be with a smaller bundle on my back?

And it’s probably terrifying, but look, you can walk straighter without it.

Adventure Time,
C’mon grab your friends,
We’re going to very distant lands…

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