In January of this year, I had reluctantly agreed to go to the gym with one of my best friends. At the time, it seemed like a good way to release the stress that was weaving its way into my life. I had never been to the gym, and I’m not so sure my interpretation of “working out” was synonymous with the definitions these people had. My best friend had coached me throughout the entire experience and at the time it seemed relatively easy. I wasn’t hurting, I wasn’t really struggling, and I didn’t physically feel any pain. (I may have taken a few shortcuts and lied about some sets but… I digress).
When I had gotten home, I felt exhausted – but good; I felt good for making the decision to workout and do something for myself. I didn’t really think of the aftermath, mainly because I had never experienced a good workout. I went throughout the rest of the day completely fine, physiologically I felt a little weak but it was nothing I couldn’t endure.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a complete disaster. My wrists, arms, and forearms were contracted – if you’re in the medical field and you’re reading this, it was similar to a Volkmann contracture. If you don’t understand medical slang (don’t feel bad I had to look it up to be sure), I basically looked like I was walking around like I was playing baseball and I had just caught the ball in my mitt. But, it was extremely painful whenever I would try to straighten out my arm. I honestly thought my limb was going to be stuck like this forever because stretching it out was excruciating. I lucked out the next day because it was my best friend’s turn to drive to school – she thought it was hilarious. But, she told me I needed to keep stretching it out and that I can’t baby my muscles; “STRETCH IT YOU PUSSY” was a phrase I’d never thought I’d hear in this lifetime, but there I was. Each time I tried to stretch it, it never got any easier. Sometimes I’d even stretch it a little and immediately give up, I’d get glares from my friend but I didn’t think she understood that this was horrible.
I asked her later on in the day if she felt the pain from our workout, and her answer surprised me. “I feel it, but I’m used to feeling it. After you feel it for a while, it kind of just becomes normal and I just work around it.” This… made sense. I nodded, and she continued, “Just try and stretch it out and endure the pain as much as possible, it’ll pay off… trust me.” Just to put this into perspective, she has the most muscular back I’ve ever seen and it scares me – so she obviously knew what she was talking about. I sank in my chair, and sheepishly tried to stretch my arm by using the corner of the table as the force going against it. After those words of wisdom… it was still equally as painful. But, I decided to push through it each time and keep my arm stretched for as long as possible. It hurt like hell but, she was right… after a while, the pain started to wane. It’s important to note that with each time, it still did not get any better; my willingness to endure the pain was, though.
After 4 days of pain, each day getting easier and easier… I was pain free.
Would I go back to the gym with her? NO.
Did I learn something from this? Yes, yes I did.
Physiologically, our muscles need to breakdown in order to become stronger and bigger. You workout and do all of that shit to destroy your muscles, and your body goes through this process of fusing the damaged fibers in order to form new muscle fibers called myofibrils. These myofibrils get thicker and stronger, thus causing muscle growth. But, this whole process of growth starts off with something being broken down, (I’m sure you can see where this story is going already) this is the healing process. Sort of, muscle breakdown is more intricate than this but, that’s the basis of it.
Recently, I’ve been breaking down; breaking down who I am, where I see my life going, how I view myself, my priorities, etc. Getting out of a long and heavy relationship has broken me down – and getting out of it was my decision, just as going to the gym that day was. I did it to take care of myself and focus on myself because it’s what we needed at the time… he needed it too. As I did with the gym, I made a decision and didn’t really think of the aftermath. It’s scary to make a decision for yourself after you’ve spent a long time making decisions for another person. The aftermath of my decision had never really hit me until days later. Everything in me felt broken and ‘sore’; I had never experienced anything so excruciating. My mind was racing, my chest felt light, my heart was heavy, and I just looked defeated. I had run away from my problems; I didn’t want to feel hurt. I babied myself – I cried a lot, tried to fill up an emptiness that couldn’t be filled, I wrote a lot, I got angry a lot, I felt a lot and felt absolutely nothing at the same time.
I spent a month running and hiding from the pain because, well, naturally I don’t like to feel pain (does anyone?). I used people in order to get small moments of ‘happiness’, but the darkness seemed to creep back ten-fold once they had fallen asleep or wouldn’t answer me. I had thought to myself, “Bran, cling to something that makes you feel good. You owe yourself this, you need to feel okay as soon as possible”. I was running in circles, trying to alleviate my pain in ways that were only quick fixes. I never tried to push through it, why? I felt like maybe if I tried to trudge through the pain I wouldn’t be strong enough to keep pushing, or what if the pain lasts forever? I was okay with small bursts of happiness, and large dips of depression – I convinced myself that even a little happiness was better than trying to face my demons. As I spiraled more and more out of touch with myself, I had reached a new low.
We often overlook that, don’t we? That the pain will bring about strength. We’re so focused on the pain that we just want to know when the pain is going to be over – we don’t care about things being okay in the future, we care that this pain has an end. This kind of thinking, it’s destroyed my progress. I’ve realized that I need to focus and realize that the pain doesn’t last forever, and I will get stronger after this. I don’t need someone else to build me up, I don’t need someone else to repair my myofibrils – it’ll happen naturally over time. I need to endure the pain. Get through it, over it, and passed it. That’s part of the healing process, really immersing yourself in your pain and not running away from it… because the truth is, we’re stuck in a room with pain. We can try to run and hide from it, but it’s always going to be there. I need to let myself breakdown; I don’t need to pick up the pieces as soon as they hit the floor. Healing is a process that doesn’t have an ETA, it happens when you allow it to happen.
Things may not be better for me yet, but I know they will be. If you’re going through something painful, try your best to face it. I know, it’s easier said than done… but you’ll heal. You’ll be stronger and wiser. There will be days where you feel AMAZING, and then there will be days where you’ll get bad – immerse yourself in both. Really discover yourself and let the wound heal; keep yourself (productively) occupied. You’ll soon discover wonderful things about yourself if you truly accept the pain with open arms, rather than closed fists. I learned that I like to hike, write short stories, read, create poetry, listen to the ocean, watch the sky change colors, and a whole shit ton more.
I know it seems counterproductive to just allow the pain to run its course and not figure out a remedy, but it’ll pay off. I promise, I promise, I promise.
You’re broken, but we need to break in order to come back stronger.
“He will not fix you. He will not save you. You can only save yourself, and if he really respects you, he won’t disturb your healing process.“
Inhale, Exhale 